The kind of shit I've been writing lately:

 

A Historical Account:

            SHAKESPEARE SITS DOWN TO WRITE

                                    A Work of Fiction

 

Procure high quality paper

And some fresh California oranges

Shut door, windows, and blinds

            Turn off cell phone

Light scented candles

Scatter them around the room

But don’t look at the box in the corner

 

            Get serious

Sit down, roll up sleeves

Dip quill in ink

Write: “Thou art”

Sit back, evaluate

Stroke mustache ponderously

            For 15 minutes

Add: witticism

       Nod in self-satisfaction

       Eat fresh orange

But don’t look at the box in the corner

 

Read progress

Gradually furrow brow

Re-read progress

Utter soft profanity

            Stand up, brow still furrowed

Read out loud with deluded confidence

 

Stare into candlelight

Don’t look at the box in the corner

Lips quiver –    flame

Remains steady

 

Slam desk,

            Knock over ink,

                        Utter loud profanity,

Violently stab into high quality paper.

 

In anguish, scream:

            “Christopher Marlowe, I hate you!”

                       

Regain composure

Pace the room, make candle-lights flicker

But don’t look at the box in the corner

 

Look at the box in the corner

Open it

Smoke opium

Experience temporal euphoria

Turn cell phone back on

Call Christopher Marlowe

 

Now that I know nobody in my personal life reads this anymore, I thought I'd give in to a relapse.

Momentary relapse, of course.

I am watching Predator.  Arnie has some huge fucking muscles in this flick.  He was in his prime.  It should be known that throughout the movie, Arnie is the only one to take a Predator blast in the chest and survive.  Everyone else seem to either lose limbs, or die instantly.  That blue shit doesn't work on Arnie...

So here's the situation; I have a major essay due on Wednesday night.  So far I have my outline drawn up with a shitty introduction.  I have to write approx. 1500 words in the next 42 hours--that's 35 words an hour.  0.6 words a minute.

Looking at this mathematcially, it definitely seems doable.  However, I am not a math major, I'm writing an essay.  You can't simply sit on the toilet bowl and shit out a perfect log every day.  Those take discipline, and even planning.

You gather the right food over a few days (research), you take a few try out shits to clean your system (point form writing, rough drafts), maybe take some pepto bismol if you think you didn't eat right (use fancy writing skills and get philosophical), and then, when you're ready, you plan the right time and take a master shit (final draft).  The more you plan it out, the more careful you are, the better the shit will be. Your prof might even say "that shit stinks good".  It may even be a masterpeice you are proud of.

But in the end it's still a peice of shit. 

I need some pepto.