2/23/21 + short story: time travel romance

I’ve got like 30 pages of fanfiction and there’s no sex yet. I think I’m doing it wrong. Anyway I think ONLY of time travel. Do not bother me with other thoughts! I’m reading a lot of manga. So far only Yu Yu Hakusho and My Hero Academia/Boku No Hero Academia but the latter is so popular in the digital library that I’m reading them completely out of order. Volume 8 was first, then 6, and 12 is now available. Please don’t spoil either of these stories!

I started reading Haruki Murakami’s “Wind/Pinball” and halfway through I was like “that’s it, I know what I have to do” so I put the book down and have thought about picking it back up the past few days. How fascinating!

There was a novel in the works about a school for psychics but I got stuck writing it because everyone knows what’s on the test and my MC was too powerful but so very boring. You ever write a book and can’t put a plot in because everyone’s too nice? Now I’m into time travel (meme: two astronauts in space, one gazes at the earth and asks “You’re into time travel?” and the other astronaut floats behind him with a gun to the guy’s head and says “always was”) & fanfic and don’t have energy for these psychics!

first draft story about time travel romance – I’m trying to write more casually. Getting caught up in being literary makes my writing stiff.

Since the aftermath of the disastrous party, Lilac couldn’t bring herself to go back to the coffee shop, because he might be there. He looked just like her former unrequited love. Well, just the outfit. Tell me, how does a woman so strong and charming end up chasing after the only men who are most difficult to break through?
Expert Michele Tiery (her expertise is in being a best friend) speculates she’s after The Chase. She’s after the feeling of winning a difficult battle.
Oh, there’s a handsome man who rarely smiles and won’t open up his heart? Well well well! Looks like a job for Lilac Valentine!
Lilac Valentine loves playing games with these men. All she’s after is their pure spirit to leak through, to bubble up to the surface, creating a ripple effect in their lives. And then, like a sexy Nanny McPhee, she leaves. Why stay when the jig is up? Most of them end up being shitty anyway.
A long time ago, however, there was one man who she chased. Caught. And couldn’t let go of.
He was a skilled swordsman, a half human half bird who wore nothing but black and white. Making out was a little troubling, as he had a beak. But that was all right with her.
In the end, Lilac realized the bird man pulled the very same trick on her as she had with so many others. But they fell in love together. They made tea, ate bugs (mostly him), watched television. Tried to build flat pack furniture. And then one day, she accidentally stepped into the future, leaving everyone she ever loved behind.
The future was mostly glass, grass, and ass pottery barns. Not the store, actual barns for pottery.
In this new time, how would Lilac Valentine utilize her skills at cat and mouse romance to force life itself to chase her? For lost time to catch up?
She was out of ideas. How could she flirt with adventure? How could she tell jokes and make the mountains laugh? And most challenging of all. How would she learn to love life itself again?
No love interested her. No man, no woman. No cuties.
She wandered through her new city, her new time. What’s a girl to do when she’s thrust into the far future with no job, no friends, no family? [author’s note: lol burn notice]
Lilac goes for a cup of coffee everyday and writes everything down. Spends her whole day catching up on the last few hundred years of music and culture. And everyday, there’s another regular she runs into. Waves hello most times.
Today she didn’t wave hello. Just a head nod. Catching on that the interactions were getting less personal, he had to do something.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s your name?”
He wore only black and white. What’s this guy’s deal? What is he, some type of minimalist?
“Lilac Valentine. I’m not from around here.”
“I’m Leif. I’m not from around here either.”
“Where are you from?”
“I’m from the future. It’s weird living so far in the past. None of the music I like has been born yet. I guess you could call me an aspiring fan.”
“Oh really? I’m from the past. Everyone I ever loved is dead. And the music I like was written so long ago, nobody remembers it.”
“Wow, we’re really a match huh!” he said with a smile, rubbing the back of his neck, which was free from feathers. “Wanna sit at the same table for coffee tomorrow?”
And so they agreed to meet the next morning. They talked about music, about culture, how much has changed, how weird it is to be the only two time travelers in the city, how the online groups for time travelers are never reliable because the longest ones only live for a hundred years or so.
Life as an accidental time traveler is tricky. Everyone’s moving and going. You never know when someone’s going to stay or leave. Every day could be your last.

So I Leave

Hello,

This one’s possibly two years old now. Since I’m writing so many new poems a day for NaNoWriMo (and my book), I thought I should share a few of my older poems.


 

What he said was good grammar
good tone, good smile
How much does an artichoke weigh
How much Truth Do You Want

How Hard do I Tap my Feet so he Hears I wanna be light
as a dancer on a drum
Do I sing or scream through my window
& how sweet do I make the sound?
The longer I stay the faster my forearms feel dumb

From him I inherit a thousand
tiny vases of jagged glass
in my gums and stutter
on the first word I think to say
and find there is nothing to express

-So I Leave

Wensleydale

1.
you are warmer than fever in
me that was
the wing-ed beast
of legend in
me for
a moment that soft
pressing
every where I felt
light
sun
it was how light
is so fast and
blind to itself.

2.
Holy shit. My body is made from cheese. I’m cheesy. So much so, in fact, that the Earth’s gravity will let go of me. It’s happening tomorrow. The moon will take me. I’ll stick to it like bird shit on the bench you’re trying to sit on. 

The Moon. The Mothership. A whole giant rock made of Me. I’ll throw the man on the moon a retirement party. He’ll ask what the final straw was that made the Earth eject me. I’ll show him part 1 of this poem and he’ll say that’s not so bad. Watch this. 

From the Notebook: King Arthur was a Tragedy

“In the age of romance and chivalry, steam seeped through open hearts now it’s a gas leak up the nose and on fire. Love is now combustible. Love is now the library. Love is now the golden gilded spine of ancient text.

July 1st 2017.”

like: “love is now the library”
dislike: “ancient text”

Here’s the new version. As you can see, I’ve added a title and altered the imagery. This poem did not undergo a heavy edit, and that’s okay. Sometimes, I write a long poem only to keep one or two lines, or images, or ideas. Other times, like in this case, I keep it mostly the same.

King Arthur was a Tragedy
In the age of romance and chivalry
steam seeped through open hearts
now it’s a gas leak.
Up the nose.
On fire.

Love is now combustible.
Love is now the library.
Love is now the golden
gilded spine of mildew books
that bury in your head
songs and hatchets alike.

Eva

Honey

you only commit to illusions like me
pulling fists from my pockets
but they’re bees
in your stomach

your mouth is full with the honey of my language
yes, it’s Crimson and Clover
dripping over and over

you ran up the alp to whip your heart in shape
but worked too hard
it’s over zealous

you caught a bird in your hands
who flew you south for the winter
now your blood’s with the crows
and you’ll never learn my syntax

In Subplot, Seeking Help | From: Damsel Underwhelmed

In Subplot, Seeking Help
From: Damsel Underwhelmed

Dear editor,
all my poetry is about romance
isn’t that totally gross?
i mean, i run my phone down to 24% in a day
for a notification or a gif or a meme
with this that the other person’s charming face
good god when comes the part where i don’t look for trouble, it finds me?

and Wait there’s more, i have no blood
i have no herbs to add in my tea
i have no spellbound trickster leaves
i have no flapping stomach bees
i have this sexy actor meme

i want to be the meanest woman and i want to be forgiven immediately.
only one person can fall hopeless and it’s the guy in the produce aisle.