(Untitled)

[buzzylittleb]

Looking at the Armando thing and realising that somewhere along the line, you failed to close your metaphor or even attach it to the body of the narrative. Just going from desert dust to piss and turps to burning down a brothel in the desert. And non sequitur may be a stylistic tick of yours, but it really doesn't work.. since you never

Comments

[kimboosan]

Screw that last week, I would like to cancel 2010 in toto and move on to 2011, because this year is SO FIRED. *sighhh* Okay, I will try not to dump my stress on your over-pained brain.

I'm not sure I have any advice, other than you trust yourself and your instincts. You are such a great writer, all the answers are THERE inside you and inside your story and I know it will all piece together brilliantly. Stop stressing! I have faith in you. Not that it helps but eh, I do!

Also? I expect the meds you are on probably do a fine, FINE job of replicating the sensation of being drunk. But then being drunk has several stages to it, and it's all kind of personal, so who knows?

♥

[buzzylittleb]

I am not the world's greatest drinker even if I am sometimes nicer drunk than I am sober.

One paragraph of [mercifully cut] ugh:-
The boots were perfectly balanced, just like everything the Bookman touched, only there was guilty warmth to them and their butter soft leather. Like taking a leak in a bath, for that one moment relaxation and warmth almost radiating from the heart. Then you shower desperately, rubbing yourself raw with Ivory soap, half-dressed half-dry you wrestle with a bottle of Scrubbing Bubbles before splashing yourself with turpentine cologne. Uh, yeah, it's a bit like the pissing bit of Corelli (I never finished, de Bernieres south American stuff is far superior as far as I'm concerned) and well - I did ask what you clean the bath with - and it's all a bit screwed up at this point with homophones and the messed up metaphor that jumped from numbers to burning people without actually mentioning the connection - viz a map/flyer for said underground sex party in the desert

hopefully better - now to handle maps, death and numbers

[buzzylittleb]

The boots were perfect, just as Armando’s every artifice was perfect. Every ledger balanced at his fingertips and he took a moment to appreciate the boots in their hand-sewn beauty. The soft leather clothed his feet in warm and Armando felt a moment of indulgent warmth in his belly. Almost like pissing in the bath; that moment of womb-like comfort and heat only to be followed with guilt and bathroom cleaner.

There would be no guilt tonight.

Re: hopefully better - now to handle maps, death and numbers

[kimboosan]

I like the balance of the perfect boots against "Armando's every artifice." Also, the breaking into the safe pleasure of workmanship with how good/naughty it feels to piss in the tub is brilliant, it says SO much about how primal Armando really is, for all his polishing.

I have to admit I loved the "guilty warmth" phrase and the desperate feel you gave to the "scrubbing raw" part of the first draft; the second flows better, I can't really call this a criticism but I adored those particular visuals.

You. ♥