Comments Posted By Ian

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I still can’t see through the window. I press my face to the glass, the frost freezes my cheeks, but I wanted to see through the mist, through the ice, through the closed curtains, and into the warm inside. I closed my eyes and for a second I thought I could smell the fresh bread. It warmed my skin, my heart beat faster. I heard my grandfather say, “Nina, come,”

» Posted By Ian On 05.18.2019 @ 1:27 pm

I couldn’t stop, even though everything was in slow motion. Everything. I should’ve moved, I should’ve done something, anything, but I couldn’t pick up my feet, I couldn’t scream into my phone, I couldn’t say the things I’d always wanted to say because I couldn’t stop looking at it. Coming toward me, the thing showed no mercy, it showed no interest in who I was, the only meaning was what I was to it. Dinner.

» Posted By Ian On 05.17.2019 @ 2:45 pm


I wanted to go, but Jonathan said no. He hated the movies. There was never anything good. Oh god, another remake? Oh GOD! Another sequel? Doesn’t anyone have original ideas anymore? There are millions of books published every year, but all the cinema knows how to do is rewrite the same stories while they reheat the same popcorn, leftover from last months feature showings.
Last months feature showings, huh?

» Posted By Ian On 01.31.2019 @ 8:22 am


The stars are a natural nightlight that come over the black tarp of sky. I wish I knew more about them, every individual speck of light just gets overshadowed by the ones that have names. Orion’s Belt — do those stars have names or are they only recognized in the group of three? I guess I sort of feel sad for them after all.

» Posted By Ian On 11.10.2018 @ 7:12 am


I hate this fucking shirt.
I pull at the collar, loosening it. My skin is sweaty underneath the layers of polyester.
What kind of cheap suit is made of polyester?
I clench my jaw and stare into the mirror, looking myself over. My button-up is tucked into my pants, the blazer is too big and makes my shoulders look broader than they are, shrinking my head.

» Posted By Ian On 02.19.2018 @ 5:26 pm


There was a team called the Astros. The Astros won the game. Then one of the players bonked over the gate. His name was Astro just like his team. Just like the name of the team. The end.

» Posted By Ian On 11.06.2017 @ 8:51 am


I clutched the doorknob. I didn’t realize my mouth was hanging open until I felt the saliva slid down my chin. I wiped at it with the back of my hand. It was a few moments longer before I recovered. I blinked a number of times, thinking that maybe by resetting my vision, everything would become right with the world; but I was wrong, it didn’t go away. Blinking just made my vision clearer.

» Posted By Ian On 09.02.2017 @ 4:33 pm


Sitting at the table, it turned again.
I wasn’t what they wanted.
I saw every face again and again.
The colors of the room melted together into one long stream of messy finger painting.
I was never what they wanted.
I think I’ve been on this ride more times than anyone else.
I don’t know why you’d put paprika on the table. No one sprinkles it casually on supper.

» Posted By Ian On 06.25.2017 @ 8:05 am


I can’t stop myself. I can’t look at myself in the mirror.
I fucking hate what I see and I hate what he sees more.
I know–I fucking know he thinks I’m disgusting, but he won’t say it. I know I’m disgusting because I think I’m disgusting–I know I’m disgusting.
I look at my hands, I look at the bruises on my neck, my arms, my legs. The bite marks. The smell that I’ve been spent.
I can’t stop. I need it.
I want to stop. If I don’t… If I can’t…
I don’t want to know what’s going to happen to me.

» Posted By Ian On 06.22.2017 @ 5:55 pm


I looked at the dirt. There wasn’t much to it. It covered my hands with a dark, dirty film. The cracks and creases in my skin were darker than the rest of my hand.
There isn’t much to it, I thought again, “but it’s all I have.” With a cupped hand, I brought the dirt to my mouth.

» Posted By Ian On 06.16.2017 @ 5:06 am


We use it to cook. I put bacon in it; the sizzling sweet apple wood fills the air.
In the evening we use it for steak or stir fry or some kind of casserole.
Today we use it for defense. It goes ‘spang’ as it smacks a decaying human in the face. Their teeth go loose and a glob of their nose goes flying off. Blood drips from the bottom of the pan like bacon grease seeping through the pan and I think, “‘I’m so hungry. I wish I had some bacon right now…”

» Posted By Ian On 06.13.2017 @ 5:09 am


I’m getting another one, I say. They told me I shouldn’t.
I drank a lot, but I can still count, so I don’t think I drank enough.
It’s not really about the flavor–though I say that it is. I like the marshmallow vodka. I like stickin’ that in the twinkie and eatin them together. I know my friends think it’s gross, but man, it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.
You’d understand if you tried it.

» Posted By Ian On 06.12.2017 @ 5:07 am


ITS THE SAME DAMN THING ASS TWO DAYS AGO OMFG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

» Posted By ian On 06.08.2017 @ 3:56 pm

When I first read this word, I saw the word ‘butt’ and I was prepared to write about ‘butts’ for the entirety of 60 seconds. I immediately thought of very round, very perky butts. Then, of course, I think of excellent looking guys with very attractive dairy-airs. You just can’t help it when you think of butts. But then I saw ‘er flies’ and I couldn’t help but wonder, at least for a second, what is a ‘butt er flies’?
Kinda like that one time in school, I wondered, “What is an ass ass in?”

» Posted By Ian On 06.07.2017 @ 6:07 pm

hmm, you sleep with butterflies? well I sleep with butter and fries. Said by: the food truck guy

» Posted By ian On 06.07.2017 @ 5:16 pm


its the same thing as yesterday so I cant write anything

» Posted By ian On 06.06.2017 @ 11:37 am

When writing a scene, you want to focus on the details. Not everything.
Don’t talk about everything in the room or every large detail on a person’s appearance, but what makes them special? If you walked into the room–if you were the narrator, had the narrator’s personality, what are the things that you’d notice?
What personality does that person have? Would it affect their face?
Memorability is in the details.

» Posted By Ian On 06.05.2017 @ 5:42 pm

I have no details, I have never gone into detail before

» Posted By ian On 06.05.2017 @ 5:11 pm


He asked me what I wanted. I didn’t think he was making a list. I thought he was being rhetorical. he just wanted me to think of all the things I didn’t have so I told him–I told him everything that I ever wanted and I shit on everything that I didn’t have.
He told me he’d fix all of that, I just had to give him one thing in return.
I snorted, “What? My soul?”
“You sound like you’ve done this before,” he said.
I thought he was joking.

» Posted By Ian On 06.04.2017 @ 8:27 pm


Glowing on my camera screen, I saw them in the bottom right corner. They sat in a cluster on the chair.
It had to be dust. Something.
I went to the next image.
The little orbs became a line in front of the chair, a mismatched, messy line, closer to my lens.
I went to the next image.
It was just dust I said.
But in this image, the orbs weren’t there anymore and instead I saw a smoky figure, disfigured, mouth wide open and large, jagged teeth. It was screaming at me, whatever it was.

» Posted By Ian On 06.03.2017 @ 10:47 am


#yolo #bossaf #myandmycrew #almostthere

» Posted By ian On 06.02.2017 @ 3:08 pm

We used to call them pound signs. Because typically when you called the 800 number on the back of your credit card or the manual in your Chevy or on the back of a freaking cereal box, all you’d get was a prerecorded voice that said “enter a number, then press pound.” And every time you called you got an automated message, not a person, and it’d always say “pound” to get to a person. “Pound. Press pound. Thank you. Pound.” The frustration would build up and because you couldn’t, you just wanted to solve the issue on your account or with your car or get your kid the stupid toy that was supposed to be in the box and you couldn’t even find a person. You beat the phone. POUNDED it to get to the next menu and make your way through the labyrinth of numbers and hold music, and “please wait” to finally talk to a person on the other side of the world who’d say, “Sorry, we can’t help you.”
It was a pound because once you hung up, that’s all you wanted to do: pound whoever created this ridiculous trick.

» Posted By Ian On 06.02.2017 @ 6:42 am


ammo cartridge

» Posted By ian On 06.01.2017 @ 4:42 pm

I can’t get it in. I can’t get it to work. No matter how much I take it out and put it back in, it doesn’t do the job. I blow on it, hoping it’ll work, but still, it fails.
They tell me technology will fix this–soon, we won’t need to blow it to make it work. Soon, taking it in and out will become obsolete, but I think I’ll miss the action of doing it all myself; of getting it to work.
I’ll miss the feeling of accomplishment when the screen lights up and says, “Press Start.”

» Posted By Ian On 06.01.2017 @ 4:57 am


its the same thing as yesterday. stupid.

» Posted By ian On 05.31.2017 @ 3:30 pm

I sit up when my alarm goes off. I hit it. Across from my bed there’s a window and when I look into it, I see another man, sitting up, hitting his clock, but I know it’s not me. I can’t be me. His hands move with mine. He yawns when I yawn, but my hair is black. His skin is pale. He doesn’t look like he knows what ‘jovial’ is.
He can’t be me.
He can’t.

» Posted By Ian On 05.30.2017 @ 3:34 pm


» Posted By ian On 05.30.2017 @ 2:49 pm


i don’t know. i quit.

» Posted By ian On 05.26.2017 @ 3:22 pm


I wish I had sisters so bad and if my parents would adopt a sister my age for me

» Posted By ian On 05.25.2017 @ 4:41 pm


scuba… hmmm… i don’t know… what?

» Posted By ian On 05.22.2017 @ 2:59 pm

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