This is a poem about a pony who is dumb and his name is Scrivy and he is dumb and will not make chocolate cake for his wife.
Oh, stallion of ashes, dark charger of night,
Why do you punish that which is all to you?
Like harpy's claws your cruelty descends,
Into my beating heart your evil rends.
Oh, terrible hawk who flies when veil glitters,
You cry terrible banes from your beak,
Why must you banish the maiden to her tower,
Throw your protector into her curdled cage?
Oh, wrathful dragon, rising from mourning,
Cursing your crown, who girds you all the same,
Who sits upon your mantle, hallowed, and wretched,
But her tears will not settle your awful fire.
Oh, sinister shadow, to your dexter night-flower,
She is innocent and gentle, but still you wield a blade,
So cruelly, with such malice, cutting apart her spirit,
Denying her one pleasure, her one treasure.
Oh, terrible obsidian demon, king of hells!
Why do you punish me so, steal what I love,
And bind me to you, in punishment, in loving hate,
Knowing I cannot deny your fearsome claws.
Oh, no, my treasure is lost forever, stolen from me.
Taken by the beast which I cannot break from,
We are as the snakes locked in eternal hunger and feeding,
One steals, the other longs, and neither shall ever part.
Written By Not Scrivener Blooms As He Is Fat And Dumb.
Friday 29 November 2013
Thursday 21 November 2013
Something To Remember
You know how when you like something, it seems like a whole lot of people know what it is, and they're really into it, and it's really cool and everything, and so clearly the whole world probably gets it except for those people who are just jerks?
And how when you don't like something, it's impossible to imagine anyone liking it, or how it could even exist, and people who like that must be dumb or crazy?
Well, neither of those things are true. Crush those things out of your thinking process. All that's going to do is make you uber-defensive when you write or create something that someone hates, or you come across something that you hate. Embrace things, and try to keep an open mind, even when it's oh Horses of Heaven so much easier to just. Not accept things and make huge sweeping generalizations and keep the world simple so you never have to feel bad for anyone else and anyone who interrupts this sweet monotone bliss is a jerkhead.
Look, I'm bad for it myself. I'm also bad for taking things personally, because it feeds my bitterness. And I'm oversensitive. Or 'flowery' as Luna puts it. Not flowery like that, I think she means flowery like... how a flower bruises really easily. She was saying fruity at first, but... that was even worse to me for some reason.
Uh. Moving forwards.
So it's really easy to think along the lines of... "I'm writing a romantic comedy, who doesn't like romantic comedies?" Well. A lot of people. And it's really easy to think: "Who the hell wants to read a tragicomic philosophical treatise on the morality of medical treatments." And you know, some people. Actually would. Even if everybody dies horribly at the end and we all feel like jerks.
I'm just. Grabbing examples that come to mind here.
You should not judge the quality of either story by how much you "like" it. Enjoyment is great. But bear in mind that we enjoy many things that are bad for us or downright stupid. Look at me and Luna. Likewise, quality is not some pure mechanical construct: if you want to read something that's perfectly precise in every day, then go read a dictionary or a text on mathematics.
We should embrace things that make us uncomfortable. We should struggle to broaden our horizons, open our minds, and instead of wasting so much time either praising or hating something irrationally - and praise can be as irrational as hatred, yes - we should look deeper. We should see the meaning from it, and embrace what we find. We should strive to enjoy things that are meant to be enjoyed, even when they conflict with our sensibilities and our morality; more than that, we should try and let stories in, and feel them. Do I agree that unicorns are a noble race? Not really. If I read a story about the noble unicorns, and their plight in fighting off the barbarian earth ponies, should I try and nitpick all the inaccuracies or should I just read the story, and try and keep my mind open, and see what the author is trying to say?
Well, I'll try. But I'm really bad at following my own advice. Still... we can always damn well try. And sometimes, just... keeping that open mind, looking beneath things, digging a bit into the unknown... it can lead to finding some pretty marvelous things.
Like, you know, a black pearl, for example.
~Scrivener Blooms
And how when you don't like something, it's impossible to imagine anyone liking it, or how it could even exist, and people who like that must be dumb or crazy?
Well, neither of those things are true. Crush those things out of your thinking process. All that's going to do is make you uber-defensive when you write or create something that someone hates, or you come across something that you hate. Embrace things, and try to keep an open mind, even when it's oh Horses of Heaven so much easier to just. Not accept things and make huge sweeping generalizations and keep the world simple so you never have to feel bad for anyone else and anyone who interrupts this sweet monotone bliss is a jerkhead.
Look, I'm bad for it myself. I'm also bad for taking things personally, because it feeds my bitterness. And I'm oversensitive. Or 'flowery' as Luna puts it. Not flowery like that, I think she means flowery like... how a flower bruises really easily. She was saying fruity at first, but... that was even worse to me for some reason.
Uh. Moving forwards.
So it's really easy to think along the lines of... "I'm writing a romantic comedy, who doesn't like romantic comedies?" Well. A lot of people. And it's really easy to think: "Who the hell wants to read a tragicomic philosophical treatise on the morality of medical treatments." And you know, some people. Actually would. Even if everybody dies horribly at the end and we all feel like jerks.
I'm just. Grabbing examples that come to mind here.
You should not judge the quality of either story by how much you "like" it. Enjoyment is great. But bear in mind that we enjoy many things that are bad for us or downright stupid. Look at me and Luna. Likewise, quality is not some pure mechanical construct: if you want to read something that's perfectly precise in every day, then go read a dictionary or a text on mathematics.
We should embrace things that make us uncomfortable. We should struggle to broaden our horizons, open our minds, and instead of wasting so much time either praising or hating something irrationally - and praise can be as irrational as hatred, yes - we should look deeper. We should see the meaning from it, and embrace what we find. We should strive to enjoy things that are meant to be enjoyed, even when they conflict with our sensibilities and our morality; more than that, we should try and let stories in, and feel them. Do I agree that unicorns are a noble race? Not really. If I read a story about the noble unicorns, and their plight in fighting off the barbarian earth ponies, should I try and nitpick all the inaccuracies or should I just read the story, and try and keep my mind open, and see what the author is trying to say?
Well, I'll try. But I'm really bad at following my own advice. Still... we can always damn well try. And sometimes, just... keeping that open mind, looking beneath things, digging a bit into the unknown... it can lead to finding some pretty marvelous things.
Like, you know, a black pearl, for example.
~Scrivener Blooms
Friday 15 November 2013
Why We Fall
I was a foal, and my father pushed me down.
I was a foal, and my mother pushed me down.
I was a foal, and the older foals pushed me down.
I was a foal, and the customers at the shop pushed me down.
I was a foal, and the teacher pushed me down.
I was a foal, and the stallion in the hat gave me a chance.
I grew older;
My father still pushed me down.
My mother still pushed me down.
Other stallions still pushed me down.
People I worked for pushed me down.
People I was supposed to learn from pushed me down.
And the stallion the hat was gone, but his memory remained, and it was still kind.
And the reason I was pushed down so many times was because every time, I got back up.
Many years have passed since then, and I've tasted a lot of dirt and humiliation. But now I'm steadier on my hooves, and every time I hit the ground, I stayed down a little shorter, and I learned a little more. My parents are gone. The other stallions I left behind. I work for myself now. I've learned how to learn on my own, and that if I'm willing to listen, I can learn a hell of a lot from the people around me... maybe even more than I ever learned from so-called 'experts.'
And that memory, of that stallion in the hat, is still with me.
I was pushed down.
And I learned to get back up.
And that has made all the difference in my life.
If I'd never gone through all the horrible, the hard times, spent so much time fighting, enduring, I never would have learned that rejection letters are a step forwards and not a step backwards, that I can keep pushing forwards even when the world doesn't seem to want to have me, that even when all hope seems lost, there's always someone out there willing to lend a hoof if you'll just open your mind to them. That even when the whole world seems to hate you, and you hate it back, that doesn't give you the right to lash out and destroy it... because among all the bad, you're going to hurt someone good, too. You're going to hurt the one thing that might help you through it all. And it taught me that it's all the hard times, the rough times, the vicious times that really taught me how to enjoy and prosper in the peace and the good times, and prepared me for the road ahead.
It's important to remember that, especially if you want to write. Because writing is about the life you live. Not the life you just sit through and let pass you by. Writing is about falling down maybe even more than it is about getting back up.
~Scrivener Blooms
I was a foal, and my mother pushed me down.
I was a foal, and the older foals pushed me down.
I was a foal, and the customers at the shop pushed me down.
I was a foal, and the teacher pushed me down.
I was a foal, and the stallion in the hat gave me a chance.
I grew older;
My father still pushed me down.
My mother still pushed me down.
Other stallions still pushed me down.
People I worked for pushed me down.
People I was supposed to learn from pushed me down.
And the stallion the hat was gone, but his memory remained, and it was still kind.
And the reason I was pushed down so many times was because every time, I got back up.
Many years have passed since then, and I've tasted a lot of dirt and humiliation. But now I'm steadier on my hooves, and every time I hit the ground, I stayed down a little shorter, and I learned a little more. My parents are gone. The other stallions I left behind. I work for myself now. I've learned how to learn on my own, and that if I'm willing to listen, I can learn a hell of a lot from the people around me... maybe even more than I ever learned from so-called 'experts.'
And that memory, of that stallion in the hat, is still with me.
I was pushed down.
And I learned to get back up.
And that has made all the difference in my life.
If I'd never gone through all the horrible, the hard times, spent so much time fighting, enduring, I never would have learned that rejection letters are a step forwards and not a step backwards, that I can keep pushing forwards even when the world doesn't seem to want to have me, that even when all hope seems lost, there's always someone out there willing to lend a hoof if you'll just open your mind to them. That even when the whole world seems to hate you, and you hate it back, that doesn't give you the right to lash out and destroy it... because among all the bad, you're going to hurt someone good, too. You're going to hurt the one thing that might help you through it all. And it taught me that it's all the hard times, the rough times, the vicious times that really taught me how to enjoy and prosper in the peace and the good times, and prepared me for the road ahead.
It's important to remember that, especially if you want to write. Because writing is about the life you live. Not the life you just sit through and let pass you by. Writing is about falling down maybe even more than it is about getting back up.
~Scrivener Blooms
Friday 8 November 2013
Today
Will be a busy day. There is writing to do, Luna and I have to go to and from Ponyville, and I have to cut some more wood to prepare for winter, among other things. I am hunter-gatherer. Well, okay, Luna's more the hunter-gatherer. Well. Hunter-raider. Apparently old habits, like stealing from people you disagree with, die hard.
Anyway, it'd be easy not to do a bunch of things on my list. Like what I'm writing right now. Like writing at all. But goddammit. I'm going to do it because I have made a weird obligation here. And not doing it will throw me off. And other things.
I currently smell like woodsmoke and fire. Thanks to the woodsmoke from the fire that nearly burned down our house thank you Luna. And in spite of the splinters, the sears, the singes, and the near-blindness, dammit, I am doing what I said I would. Before I go make dinner.
It. Helps that I have nothing else to really do today. You know. Apart from the constant foalsitting I do.
But seriously. I made a plan, and I'm going to stick to it. No matter what happens. Lacking time, dignity, and smelling like death or not. Burning death, though. I think that's better than rotting death.
Luna is not being helpful so I am going to go pour water on her. I will do something more constructive later
~Scrivener Blooms
I currently smell like woodsmoke and fire. Thanks to the woodsmoke from the fire that nearly burned down our house thank you Luna. And in spite of the splinters, the sears, the singes, and the near-blindness, dammit, I am doing what I said I would. Before I go make dinner.
It. Helps that I have nothing else to really do today. You know. Apart from the constant foalsitting I do.
But seriously. I made a plan, and I'm going to stick to it. No matter what happens. Lacking time, dignity, and smelling like death or not. Burning death, though. I think that's better than rotting death.
Luna is not being helpful so I am going to go pour water on her. I will do something more constructive later
~Scrivener Blooms
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)