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*The-Mitmit

Unabashed supporter of clowns.
About Me deviantART Subscriber Romantic Writer Sam20/United States Recent Activity Deviant for 2 Years
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The Poetry of Frederick Williams a Novella

Frederick Williams, a budding poet and secret homosexual, is confronted for once with the abysmal way he treats those who love him.

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Sam: The Excavator of Internet Knowledge

Sat Jun 27, 2009, 3:50 AM
The Frederick Williams sequel is still being planned (and researched) most extensively. Not a word has been written! Here are some of the things I've been educating myself on:

-US postage rates, both domestic and international, in the 1950's (Norman and Frederick send each other a ton of letters, so I thought I might gain some knowledge on this. Yes, it is indeed boring as Hell to research)
-Oxford University, structure, degrees available, and history of (Frederick is going to get a masters degree there. It is ordained)
-Rhodes and Fulbright scholarships, their history and criteria (I still can't decide if Frederick would realistically get one of these. He's not a leader and is certainly not personable)
-McCarthyism, its history and societal impact, with particular regards to homosexuals
-US draft during the Korean War (Norman and Frederick are of draft age when the war breaks out, so I needed to know if they would be able to defer or not)
-Aversion therapy, particularly in connection with homosexual males
-History of GLBT culture in New York City
-History of the homophile movement in the US
-Gay US literature in the 1950's
-New York City colleges present in the 1950's (for Norman, who actually manages to get accepted into one)

I'm afraid I'm in danger of frying my psyche, despite not having written anything yet. It seems ever since I got back from the hospital I've been spending my days researching for this story. I've also been day dreaming about Frederick and Norman...excessively. I can't sleep because of it; my brain is constantly being stimulated. I'm even day dreaming about stuff that I know will never even be written about.

...I wonder if there even needs to be a continuation. It won't be immediately following the events of the first, but does anyone besides me care about what happens between them? Bah, I'm assailed by doubt and wracked by fear, I guess:roll:.

Frederick's symptoms of insanity are resembling those of catatonic schizophrenia in my reveries. I must put an end to such fantasy. I don't want him to be totally unable to function at Oxford.

<MANY HOURS LATER>

I just spent my time researching eating disorders for the sequel. I hope I never develop one...the list of harmful physiological effects is staggering. Frederick's response to life's stressors is to starve himself, so I thought I might look into them. He'll definitely fit the diagnostic criteria for anorexia nervosa while he's at Oxford.

That makes me sad:cry:

I'm off to bed, it's almost 4:00 AM. I got too caught up into researching...

-TM

  • Mood: Tired
  • Listening to: Momus-Oskar Tennis Champion
  • Reading: The Brothers Karamazov-Fyodor Dostoevsky
  • Watching: Jeeves and Wooster
  • Eating: Cookies
  • Drinking: Pomegranate Green Tea

deviantID

I'm a queer fiction writer, as well as the occasional creator of pointlessly morbid poetry. I'd like to think I'm good at what I do, but that would sound conceited, now wouldn't it? I'd also like to say I write about all kinds of things, but that would mean I just lied to you. Because I seem to be incapable of writing about women or heterosexuals for any sustained length of time.

I'm working on the women.

(Don't hold your breath for any straight main characters. I don't see this as me being homocentric; I have many straight friends and relatives. I'm just not one of them, hence the noninterest in writing about them)

Devious Info

  • Current Residence: Somewhere near Hollywood in the City of Angels
  • Interests: Being happy
  • Favourite movie: Amadeus, The Great Mouse Detective, A Clockwork Orange, Almost Famous, Fight Club, Dogma
  • Favourite band or musician: Belle & Sebastian, Radiohead, The Beatles, Pink Floyd, My Favorite, Palace Music, Momus
  • Favourite genre of music: Rock, folk, classical, country
  • Favourite artist: Van Gogh, Kandinsky, Lucien Freud, Bosch, Dali
  • Favourite poet or writer: Fyodor Dostoevsky, Aldous Huxley, Flannery O'Connor, Terry Pratchett, Stanislaw Lem, G. Greene
  • Favourite style of art: Dark comedy.
  • Operating System: Mac
  • MP3 player of choice: iPod
  • Wallpaper of choice: Something I made.
  • Skin of choice: Few holes and alive.
  • Favourite game: Dungeons and Dragons.
  • Favourite gaming platform: Emotionally unstable clerics.
  • Favourite cartoon character: Calvin, Bugs Bunny, Hobbes
  • Personal Quote: "Laugh or you'll become more insane!"
  • Tools of the Trade: Coffee, my macbook, and strange characters that won't leave me alone.

What or who should I write more about? (This is purely out of curiosity and boredom)

50%
7 deviants said Fantasy/science fiction
21%
3 deviants said Sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll
14%
2 deviants said Women
7%
1 deviant said Poetry
7%
1 deviant said Comic scripts
0%
No deviants said Heterosexuals
0%
No deviants said Bisexuals
0%
No deviants said Gender

Comments


I'm having a recurring dream in which cops are pointing their guns in my face without justification.

And then I mouth off to them because it pisses me off.

It starts out I'm parked by the side of the local bowling alley, minding my own business. Suddenly, they burst into my car with a rifle pointed at my face, screaming, "Out of the car, now!" and I'll be like, "Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" and freaking out. Eventually I get out, explain things, and they say, "Sorry about all this, we've got a serial killer on our hands and we've narrowed down his pattern and found out the next murder will end up on EXACTLY this spot. You know, they ought to make murder harder."

And I think to myself, 'They? Who the fuck is they?' and say, "They ought to make it a really bad idea."

The cop then says, "You're in a no parking zone. But we'll let it slide this time." and walks away.

--
If anyone asks, I said something poignant here.
Another one I had that springs to mind,

It was the fourth of July and I was at work. Except nobody was working but me, everyone else was drinking and eating brats. When it was time to go, one of the drunk girls being sent home laughed at the boss and said, "Well, I'd go, but I'm kind of not allowed to drive while drunk.”

My manager said, “Alright. I'll find a worker to take you home.”

I raised my hand.

“Haven't had a drop, sir.”

It was either volunteer or clean up after everyone.

“Well okay then," he said, "Owen'll do it.”

I knocked over several large garden plots and they all broke. Even the plastic ones. This is because I'm a klutz, not because I'm drunk. Big boss saw it, pulled me aside and said:

“Son, I expect you to get a zero on any breathalizer test. Hell, I'd get a zero and I just drank nine beers. Good luck.”

So I went to my vehicle and another drunk lady was there, needing a ride. So we drove a while, and eventually we pulled over so one could throw up.

When she was done she saw these frogs and wanted to catch them, and I had to convince her to leave them be and get back in the truck and when we turned around, the truck was rolling down the hill with the other passed out drunk girl inside. We ran after it until it crashed into a pole and shattered into a million tiny pieces all over the place. The other girl was alright though, because she was limp. Then the cops showed up in a squad car. Three of them came out. One of them was really cocky and had a mullet. He was all the way on the right. The one on the left was quiet and pointing his gun in my face. The one in the middle didn't say much but whenever he did say anything it was by the book. "Evening,!" Said the cocky one, "Why do we have this mess here?"

I tried to explain.

We pulled over here--”

"Why'd you do that?"

"I don't even remember. See, we pulled over because—oh yeah, because we wanted to capture a frog. That's what.”

“Get on with the story.” a 1950s car with a bunch of punk kids whizzed by.

“Damnit!" said the middle cop, "They're getting away!" But the cocky cop didn't want to chase after them. He kept staring at me waiting for me to get on with the story.

“Oh, well, I forgot to put it in park, we kind of stalled out. Me and name here got out with name to get the frog, other stayed in the car passed out. She'd been drinking.” (DOH) “Anyway, it rolled down the ditch and crashed into this tree here. Good thing no one was hurt.”

“You been drinkin, boy?”

“No, no, I'm just a bit disoriented from the crash.”

“I thought you sed you wasn't in the crash?”

“I wasn't, but--” the one with the gun in my face was smiling now. He was smiling at his gun, polished, shiny revolver, not standard police equipment. He was bothering me.

“I wasn't in the car, but...” I sighed and tried to turn my attention back to the more reasonable of the three. But I couldn't quite manage. “I wasn't in the car. Pull the trigger, fuckstick!”

his face jolted away from the trigger and towards me. He looked unhappy for a moment and put his gun away.

“He don't like you doin' that,” said the one with the mullet. “Getting all in his face about his gun.”

“Yeah, well, if you don't like it you can shoot me in the face.” I said, casting a slight glance at the cop that had the revolver.

“Yeah, well maybe I will!” the mullet one said, pulling his police shotgun into view. "Kapow! Kapow!" he said.

I looked over at the middle cop. “Hey, you, tell Moe here that he's a stupid cunt.”

He looked over at the mullet cop.

“Uh. Stan. Our public citizen safety target say's you're.. uh... He wants you to be a little nicer.”

“What? No! Tell HIM that he's an ASSTARD!”

“Uh.. I'm really not comfortable with this...”

I let out a loud laugh. The guy looked startled.

I was getting nowhere.

The nineteen fifties car full of punk kids whizzed around the corner. This time a girl took off her shirt and tossed it at them and they finally gave up on me to chase after them.

It was a strange dream.

--
If anyone asks, I said something poignant here.

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It's June 3rd which means it's your special day. Hoping you have a fantastic birthday, get some nice gifts and generally get to enjoy it lots.

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