tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-294472422011-04-21T12:19:39.368-07:00    The literary pretensions of a frustrated college student.Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.comBlogger181100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-16038725247292581822008-04-21T23:58:00.000-07:002008-04-22T00:06:09.650-07:00

Well. There it goes.I haven't uploaded anything these past few months, and removed my stories. Writers Cafe became a sad disappointment, the creative juice stopped flowing, and I've knocked myself off a pedestal. Or three.Last semester I enrolled in a creative writing course, thinking that, while it won't be a breeze, it would be thoroughly enjoyable. Well, I got the first part right. The

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-43752456704314365942007-10-31T23:46:00.001-07:002007-10-31T23:54:49.405-07:00

My professor is my father's partner in his law firm. It doesn't give me any preferential treatment--quite the opposite, in fact. Dad becomes privy to a lot of the things I don't quite want him to know.Anyway, the semester's ended, and I still don't have the grades for that subject. But what I got is even better.That professor told him that my favorite professor, the journalist everyone in the

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-20756902728531091872007-10-25T07:03:00.000-07:002007-10-25T07:10:00.519-07:00

I just realized, I can't write when I'm NOT-ENOUGH emotional. I can write when I'm deliriously happy, or extremely despondent, or cow-eyed at the thought of love and princes and fairytales redone, but when my mood is mediocre, so is my writing.Which fairly sucks, since I've got three writing things to worry about.There's a contest for a short story, the submission date in 6 days. I still don't

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-74768378647761334042007-07-06T03:34:00.000-07:002007-07-06T04:30:44.343-07:00

I've been feeling so strangely about my writing for the past two weeks.    My stories, according to the comments on Writerscafe and people I show them to, are great. Intelligent. Wonderful (though still need a little tweaking). I am a 'talented' and 'promising' writer. And on a certain level, I guess that's true; but getting esteem for stories I freely put on the web isn't going to be my life

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-31075394276147025702007-06-14T05:14:00.000-07:002007-06-14T06:07:44.723-07:00

Hi.I've been busy. First, soaking up the last vestiges of summer (which ended spectacularly, with tears and 5-year-old bridges burned. Fun times, my birthday). Also, there's that whole college thing, and my majors, my org, and the requisite drama will either draw time away from me and mmine (writing), or further fuel creative juices.Writing. I've been depressed lately, under a sanguine mask (

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-4147807857660523222007-05-05T05:23:00.000-07:002007-05-05T06:19:36.492-07:00

Note: this is a rewrite, since the original accidentally got swallowed up two hours earlier.      Writing's in my blood. I've been making up stories, and putting them down on paper ever since I've learned how to construct sentences. I've always thought I'd end up using the pen in some way when I grew up. True to form, I'm studying journalism now. Yet there's still the dream of becoming an

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-5523000935621250672007-04-20T17:49:00.000-07:002007-04-20T17:55:17.574-07:00

Grr. I can't get into Writers' Cafe for some reason--has it suddenly become extremely popular over the two days I haven't checked it? At the meantime, I'm researching for a story.See, I have this idea, one that features and awful lot of cheesy puns about food (the idioms, in fact, are really my motivation for doing the story). But developing it is starting to become a massive headache.That's

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-91208991864726683762007-04-11T06:12:00.000-07:002007-04-11T06:16:10.565-07:00

This should be emotionsRecollected from tranquilityBut serenity doesn't comeWhen one is free-falling.No reason, no rhymeNo beautiful linesAnd the subject Is rather vague, too.Because how can you sayElegantly with symbols(For that's all words are,Elephants to nine blind men),That your mother called you fatAs she had for a score,And all the heavy issuesAttached to it--ignored completely.You can't,

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-12227650808977948592007-04-08T20:53:00.000-07:002007-04-08T21:19:05.390-07:00

I was out on a week, exploring some pretty exotic sights. Lots of inspiration came, however the fruits of my sojourn are thoughts that no virginal semi-convent-raised 19-year-old girl of supposed moral fiber should have. Not to mention that manifesting such thoughts into stories really won't fit into the mood of ths blog.    How can one right erotica, after all, when one hasn't experienced the

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-77568956212370978092007-03-27T23:36:00.000-07:002007-03-27T08:27:02.152-07:00

In the silence ofA screaming hundred thousandAs witchlight played through the nightYou greeted me with a kiss.

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-66747508593756294082007-03-25T10:54:00.000-07:002007-03-26T23:15:24.105-07:00

(At the risk of discovery, I'm reposting this) He has nothing to sing about, nothingTo write—his dreams are all of dust.He fills his journals with mad denunciationsAnd colors their faces with jade.The works he weaves are women worshipped,Naked, and sadly aware of their gloryThe women and he have stale sex and beerTrying—and failing—to revive their dead hopes.He sits, the image of bitter youth.She

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-22956009763543345862007-03-12T03:50:00.000-07:002007-03-26T23:19:50.862-07:00

It’s burning white vision bursting at the tops of my eyes.    It’s nausea, shivering and plunging at ten thousand feet. Pulsing, pounding pressure, starting from the low centre of my body and radiating downwards until I can’t move, can’t do anything but lie limply on the bed. Every step taken is an epic battle in itself. Cold sweat becomes rivulets pouring down my spine.    Considering this

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-87660119359013051652007-03-08T03:34:00.000-08:002007-03-26T23:35:55.199-07:00

You feel your heart sinking within the first few minutes of the meeting. Though the stone table is round, it’s possible to discern edges—and you’re on the fringe of two boundaries.    One side spins out rhetoric like bullets, aiming for the more impressionable young. They’ve found their marks on quite a few, and riddled with wounds the few limp off the battlefield.    The other camp suffers

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-41733242929120725122007-03-07T05:39:00.000-08:002007-03-14T08:27:44.934-07:00

I've been under a lot of pressure lately--academic, filial, amicable, aesthetic, and yes, even physical expectations. Strange as it is though, the more work piles up the more story fragments drift into my head.I'm going to try to write more...at least once a week.Shouldn't be too hard, since I'm pretending to be anonymous.Here's to professionality, and the shaping of a new persona.Here's to the

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-1162228995669046252006-10-30T09:22:00.000-08:002007-03-26T23:38:48.674-07:00

The room is bare and still, waiting for a life to saturate it with character--perhaps pictures marring the perfect blankness of the walls, or maybe clothes and shoes strewn haphazardly on the wooden floor. But no books crease the folded bedsheets, and dust decides to linger in the corners.She enters, carrying nothing in her hands but a music player. The door is locked. Gauzy white curtains

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-1152794374728039592006-07-13T05:18:00.000-07:002006-07-13T05:39:36.446-07:00

Mordant Coffee I confess--I haven't gotten around to making this a real blog. As of right now, it's crap (if I may say so). Blog layout and other such superficialities aside, what concerns me is the content. I have three other online journals (that are active) besides this, and each with their own sets of audiences and personalities. This is another attempt at hiding in plain sight. But

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-1150291959322111462006-06-14T05:57:00.000-07:002006-06-14T06:32:39.346-07:00

A question that has been plaguing me all day: Do I ooze with responsibility? Is that why people find it in them to saddle me with these new position? Or is it that I'm so-called rich-girl? Or, by some chance, they've discovered my neurotic compulsion to do everything when I'm assigned a task, despite my inherent laziness? Cue not-quite-verbose gargling. Here's another thought.

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29447242.post-1150250607042913462006-06-13T19:02:00.000-07:002006-06-13T19:03:27.050-07:00

Yay for pretentiously scintillating wit.

Mordant Coffeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09974193302079979970noreply@blogger.com0