I have never written so much in my entire life. I can easily compare it all to my early adulthood, when I was writing 8 hours a day. I spend so much time in front of the computer now, its crazy. And I have nothing but a backlog of work.
Thing is, its not just the writing, it’s the photography, the blog’s promotion, the working with Lisa on her newest novel, brainstorming. I’m completely shocked at how much there is to do now that I have absolutely nothing to do.
A Brainless Nod is a blog about love and life, passionately written using articles, poetry, and serial web fiction. We are Dan and Lisa, and we both enjoy writing immensely. We hope you enjoy this look at our passions, our life together, and our opinions. Posts are sporadic due to us entering college, but expect new stuff every now and then!
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Monday, August 19, 2013
Artistic Work
Friday, August 16, 2013
(poem) - The Rewrite Struggle
There is nothing like a rewrite
To make one feel odd
Pushing text in a different way
In order to get a different nod
Different drafts
Are entirely other beasts
As opposed to writing
An entirely different feast
To keep the main idea
Is the absolute key
While removing bad content
And letting the story free
The real question is
Will it all work
Or by changing the story
Will it do nothing bur irk?
Such is the life
A writer has to live
While balancing on the edge
One cannot afford to be passive
This body of work
Is mine to tame
If I cannot work it out
It will be even more lame
But I shall not put down
This ever so epic tale
Because I believe in Deeya
Enough that I shan’t fail
Buried Secrets
Has arrived again
A new format for the tale
Is being achieved under my pen
I refuse to loose readers
Because of bad choices for a first draft
I am not sailing this ship
As if it were a raft
No,
The story will be told right
For this
Is my eternal fight
To conquer my writing demons
To challenge myself in every way
And win
Upon this very day.
--Dan
--Want more Poetry? Check out my Poetry Collection Page!
To make one feel odd
Pushing text in a different way
In order to get a different nod
Different drafts
Are entirely other beasts
As opposed to writing
An entirely different feast
To keep the main idea
Is the absolute key
While removing bad content
And letting the story free
The real question is
Will it all work
Or by changing the story
Will it do nothing bur irk?
Such is the life
A writer has to live
While balancing on the edge
One cannot afford to be passive
This body of work
Is mine to tame
If I cannot work it out
It will be even more lame
But I shall not put down
This ever so epic tale
Because I believe in Deeya
Enough that I shan’t fail
Buried Secrets
Has arrived again
A new format for the tale
Is being achieved under my pen
I refuse to loose readers
Because of bad choices for a first draft
I am not sailing this ship
As if it were a raft
No,
The story will be told right
For this
Is my eternal fight
To conquer my writing demons
To challenge myself in every way
And win
Upon this very day.
--Dan
--Want more Poetry? Check out my Poetry Collection Page!
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
The Death of the Social Pariah
One of the worst things about human behavior is childishness. I can understand it when you are a child, but sometimes, its like people never truly do. If you make an adult decision, then stand by it. Don’t get all petty later.
One of the biggest issues with this problem is the fact that kids become adults far too quickly. Girls are pushing out children at an alarmingly early age. And its very obvious to point out, they just aren’t ready for the responsibility.
One of the biggest issues with this problem is the fact that kids become adults far too quickly. Girls are pushing out children at an alarmingly early age. And its very obvious to point out, they just aren’t ready for the responsibility.
Labels:
childishness,
make fun of,
no,
pariah,
put down,
shame,
social,
social media
Monday, August 12, 2013
What to do about Near Miss, Elderly Missiles....
After being almost run off the road, ran into in the parking lot, and almost turned into while driving a straight road today, I have to ask.... Why are the old allowed to keep their driver’s licences long past the time they need to be revoked?
Many people joke about this subject when driving, some joke about it seriously, but nothing is ever done about it. Admittedly, they should still be allowed to drive if they CAN drive, but there should be mandatory testing, or something, after a certain age.
Many people joke about this subject when driving, some joke about it seriously, but nothing is ever done about it. Admittedly, they should still be allowed to drive if they CAN drive, but there should be mandatory testing, or something, after a certain age.
Friday, August 9, 2013
(poem) - What is That Smell?
There’s nothing like a smell in the house
One that you just can’t find.
It smells like a giant dead mouse
Or a moose’s putrid behind.
It lingers in every room
No matter how many candles you burn
You try to spray perfume
But your nose does nothing but yearn
For a time when there is no smell
A room that does not make you gag
Damn this place smells like hell
Or a discarded wash rag
We’ve emptied the trash cans
And searched every cranny
We cannot find the deadman
Nor his putrid fanny
But we will keep up the search
For this affront to the nose
But allowing it to continue the stench
Would not be a good way to end the prose
It’s the quest
For the Holy Grail
And I can attest
We shall not fail
Because we are sick and tired
Of this awful reek
We don’t want to be mired
In the smell of something that died last week
Help us
Oh mighty lord
Deliver us
From this smell’s deadly sword
And bring to us
Gentle smells
Of beautiful rose buds
Or other flowers of bright pastels
But until you do
We have the Scentsy burning bright
And we will leave them all on
If we have to, all bloody night....
--Dan
--Want more Poetry? Check out my Poetry Collection Page!
One that you just can’t find.
It smells like a giant dead mouse
Or a moose’s putrid behind.
It lingers in every room
No matter how many candles you burn
You try to spray perfume
But your nose does nothing but yearn
For a time when there is no smell
A room that does not make you gag
Damn this place smells like hell
Or a discarded wash rag
We’ve emptied the trash cans
And searched every cranny
We cannot find the deadman
Nor his putrid fanny
But we will keep up the search
For this affront to the nose
But allowing it to continue the stench
Would not be a good way to end the prose
It’s the quest
For the Holy Grail
And I can attest
We shall not fail
Because we are sick and tired
Of this awful reek
We don’t want to be mired
In the smell of something that died last week
Help us
Oh mighty lord
Deliver us
From this smell’s deadly sword
And bring to us
Gentle smells
Of beautiful rose buds
Or other flowers of bright pastels
But until you do
We have the Scentsy burning bright
And we will leave them all on
If we have to, all bloody night....
--Dan
--Want more Poetry? Check out my Poetry Collection Page!
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