The Writing Club

No title

Aria — Thu Apr 17, 2008 10:04 am

Author: Aria

Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 10:04 am

But how could I make it less confusing. What do you think is going on?

descriptive grammer

Aria — Tue Feb 19, 2008 3:17 pm

Author: Aria

Posted: Tue Feb 19, 2008 3:17 pm

to anyone reading this (if anyone ever reads this) at the shasta writing club. I have decided to post anything that I ever write here, boring or otherwise, as a sort of fight against the small number of posts that exsist. I hope you enjoy.

I stare at the short messy red notes lining my paper and sigh. It�s like the red plague slowly drifting over the black words, condemning what was previously thought of as a healthy and amiable attempt at a short story. A descriptive essay to be more exact. Fragment. I stare at the word and wonder vaguely how she could accuse me of using fragmented sentences in an incomplete sentence.
To me, a fragment gives the writing a enhanced appearance. A round chummy friendly shape given to thoughts that come from all angles. To be sorting these ideas out in any sort of order at all should be a commendation. Something to be proud of. �Use a semicolon there,� is the answer to my blunt and unfriendly questions. �A sentence needs to be able to stand on its own. It needs to have a subject and a predicate and a verb.� However, semicolons have always intimidated me. What, exactly, is their purpose? In formal essays I use them so that I can still use my incomplete sentences, and no one ever argues, because no one really knows what they are for. And, I find it needless to argue that my sentences do not stand alone. They are attached to my ideas. To my writing. To what I have already stated previously. That is why I am writing a story. That is why I am bothering to type out words on a page.
If this does not impress you, if you find this to be only personal opinion and bias, I press another scintillating reason. The glory of descriptive grammar. People do not actually talk in complete sentences. No, no, it�s true. Scandalous, but true. I think there would be a sort of beauty if one were to write exactly the words that were spoken by one person for the amount of a half hour. I could be talking about the brief reply, �Ya. Oh. I agree. Me too,� or simply the rantings of an angry person, separated from logic, speaking in broken defeat, or in loud blunt words. I want my writing to be able to create that mood, if it wants. To sound human, instead of prescribed, and long, and formal, and unnecessary. I want to be able to use fragmented sentences in my stories without dreading the teachers red marks. And, I want the freedom of rearranging the prescribed rules of thumb that are taken without question, to any spoken or written word.

�Essay has been purposefully utilizing fragmented sentences to prove a point. Writer could write complete sentences. Please do not detract from grade for fragments. Thank you

Shasta college newspaper

Aria — Tue Feb 19, 2008 3:11 pm

Author: Aria

Posted: Tue Feb 19, 2008 3:11 pm

I realized in my last post that I might have been a little harsh regarding the newspaper. Let me say that I grab it every time I see a new one. My favorite article was regarding the murdered Shasta College livestock. Another great article represented the love that floated this year near valentines day, in the form of personal valentines. The new format is nice. The movie articles I can't respect, due to my denial of tv and movie exsistance. I havn't seen a good movie in ages. But kudos to newspaper writers. Lots of kudos. Sometimes. Ok. Bye again.

Hello? Is anybody Out There?

Aria — Wed Feb 13, 2008 3:27 pm

Author: Aria

Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 3:27 pm

Hello community of the Shasta College Writing Club. I do suppose that you are all figments of my overactive imagination, and that there really isn't a writing club. However, that aside, I would like to extend a greeting to you all. I am a Shasta College alumnus. I take pleasure in many things, especially reading, photography, writing, and scrutinizing the Shasta college newspaper. Of which, I have noticed is rather thin as of late. If there are any recommendations for good reading, I call for something interesting to read. Yes. Alright then. Good bye

Hello

Aria — Wed Feb 06, 2008 6:29 pm

Author: Aria

Posted: Wed Feb 06, 2008 6:29 pm

Hi I recently joined the writing club. I can't make the meetings on campus due to the fact that I attend class. However, I will post things on the forum. What I was wondering was what the meetings consisted of. What goes up in the room upstairs. Are there great philosophical discussions? I am greatly curious.

Sharpshooter

Rick Ketchum — Sun Dec 16, 2007 5:39 pm

Author: Rick Ketchum

Posted: Sun Dec 16, 2007 5:39 pm

But the title Sharpshooter might scare people away.

Lost in the Woods

Kathryn Gessner — Thu Dec 13, 2007 4:39 pm

Author: Kathryn Gessner

Posted: Thu Dec 13, 2007 4:39 pm

Lost in the Woods

The woods is not lost�
even the tenderest cedar shoots
into a blaze of mossy manzanita,
knows its way�
and I stand here listening
to squirrel and woodpecker thrum,
heat and flies, bumblebees
at the edge of garden dream
deep into something just
escaping me, some truth coming
to the surface, essence, nature.
Absurd tension of me here
where the woods knows
where it is,
its own plot
towering
in canopies
and springing free from rocks
that crack with time,
someone�s time after my time,
the sliding downhill rockface
impervious to its plight.

A Loveless Heart

admin — Thu Dec 13, 2007 4:33 pm

Author: admin

Posted: Thu Dec 13, 2007 4:33 pm

A Loveless Heart
By Michael Jerrold

Lust, the feeling of a heart with no beat,

Brought up in darkness with zero visibility,

Choosing an angel with eyes closed,

Let lust fall below that of your heart,

Guided by your heart beat you take a step,

Your heart beat quickens as you fall to your knees,

You feel around the darkened floor,

Wanting a sign from your angel,

Blindly, you find your angel's feet,

Your heart skips a beat as you begin to stand,

Feeling for some hope from your angel,

Though you can't see you know you're eye to eye,

You raise your hand to find the truth,

You find nothing, no halo, no hope,

A light flickers as if your sight rushes back,

Blackened robe with blackened wings,

An evil look peering through your soul,

You shiver as your body becomes cold,

You can feel your blood freeze over in your veins,

Your heart tries to fight the hellish freeze,

Your path is chosen,

Not by your hope, your heart, or your destiny,

Your heart stops and your eyes close,

Lust created it, and its purpose was simple.

~Neiko Tails

admin — Thu Dec 13, 2007 4:05 pm

Author: admin

Posted: Thu Dec 13, 2007 4:05 pm

~Neiko Tails~
A short story written by Michael Jerrold

�Would you look at all the people�� A little kitten said to his fellow box-mates. The kittens all ran up to the edge of the box and peered through the glass window at the passing people. A few people stopped to take a look inside but most of them continued on with their busy lives.

�Hey Neiko, Wouldn�t it be cool if we got a home somewhere around here?� A kitten asked.

�A home? Ya, that would be nice�� A small, light-brown, kitten named Neiko answered without taking his eyes off the window.

�I hope it wouldn�t be too far away from here though�� Neiko said, still staring at the window.

�Ya, it would be nice if we weren�t all separated. I know we haven�t known each other that long but you guys are the only friends I have,� a gray cat named Jessica, Jesse for short, meowed out.

�Oh don�t worry about it, I don�t think we�ll be separated�� A black cat named Kites answered.

�Why do you say that?� The gray one replied.

�Probably because we won�t get a home in the first place� I mean, what if this box is our home�� Neiko answered.

�Why would this box be our home?� Kites said.

�Well� maybe we got this whole thing wrong� What if we were the ones with the home and those people are waiting to get a home?� Neiko inquired.

�Did you even just hear what you said?� Kites replied.

�I think he�s got a point; I mean it�s possible right?� Jesse said.

�What do you mean �it�s possible?�� Kites said.

�Well, do you see any people with boxes around here?� Jesse asked.

�Or, maybe they had boxes to live in but then bigger people gave them better houses to live in, like what happened to that cat yesterday.� Neiko said.

�Ya! That could be it!� Jesse said.

�Well, I�m just going to go over here and sleep while you two make me feel a whole of a lot smarter,� Kites said as he went to the opposite side of the box and laid down.

�What did he mean �make him feel smarter?�� Jesse said.

�I don�t know�� Neiko said as he stretched out his front two paws on the glass window. Then, with a big yawn, he laid down on the cardboard floor. A few people stopped to see Neiko�s little �tired� act. Kites opened one of his eyes to see the people looking in towards them.

�It�s like we�re a show to them�� Kites said as he closed his eyes once again.

�Are we really worth watching?� Jesse wondered aloud as she fell recumbent next to Neiko and began cleaning herself.

�I wonder what channel we�re on�� Neiko said as his mind fell into slumber and he found himself dreaming about floating television sets plugged into boxes with people in them. Pictures of kittens of all colors and sizes appeared on the televisions, sometimes with twenty kittens on the screen at one time. Then, all at once they would meow in perfect unison before jumping out of the television screens and into the white floor before them, which seemed to turn to water. A smile grew on Neiko�s face and Jesse could tell he was enjoying his nap.

�What a nice dream��

Trafalgar Square London

Rick Ketchum — Thu Nov 29, 2007 8:34 pm

Author: Rick Ketchum

Posted: Thu Nov 29, 2007 8:34 pm

I grew up in the sticks, kind of like Abe Lincoln, and am a little bit country ... no I think it is more like a whole lot countryside. I did manage to get to college and learn a couple of things. When I first went to college I didn't really know anyone, friends or family or neighbors, who had ever been to college, with the exception of the couple teachers at our little school.

In my first year of college I went to London with some friends and other students from Chico. I had never flown on an airplane before. We were like 15-4 girls, with some older people along, so that was cool for me. It was Christmas and colder than I had ever imagined, and I was freezing to death the first day. I didn't have much extra money, besides the trip and school costs, so I bought a really nice soft thick wool sweater to wear that was really really warm. Then I wore 2 pairs of pants each day. My cackys underneath my blue jeans, and 2 pairs of socks. So that kept me warm.

It also worked out well keeping my wallet, passport, etc. in my inner pants pockets. We were warned a lot about pickpockets and all, and a woman in our hotel actually lost her purse. There was a mugging too, that we heard about. So we all went places together and watched out for each other. Every evening we would all gather together on the large winding stairs in the hotel (they were carpeted) and talk about everything from that day. Back to the story ...

On new year's day some of us wanted to go to Trafalgar Square to ring in the new year. It was freezing outside, 5 degrees or so by dark with a 30+ mph wind off the ocean; so I dressed really really warm. There was 7 of us, 5 girls and myself and another guy. We went and had dinner at a restaurant and then hung out at the pub. Everyone ordered hard drinks and refills, and I wasn't going to just get a beer in front of all the girls, so I drank about 3 double whiskeys. I was only 19 and had never drank a whiskey before. And we were all having a great time!

Then we went to Trafalgar Square about dark and hung out for hours, visiting and waiting for midnight. It was wall to wall people across the vast square. We had a great time. The firetrucks came just before midnight, plowing through the crowd to rescue some people who had been pushed into the freezing fountains. After the new year was rang in we went to the subway station to catch a tube back to the hotel.

The crowd was so thick we actually held hands to keep anyone from getting lost. As soon as we were inside the station it was really really warm. The station was crowded and we carried on rather loudly, actually, still having a blast. We were loud enough that people were giving us some room. We talked and waited for a train, which was taking awhile.

Anyway, the girls mostly all needed some things I had in my pockets. Some money for something Kelly bought for me, and for some I owed Kathy, theatre tickets we were trading and a couple of things I was holding for them because they didn't want purses or anything in the crowds that might get swiped. So I said okay.

So it was really really hot out of the weather, and the other guy took his coat off. I had to get out of the sweater and get at the things in my pants, and so I took my coat off, and one of the girls held it. And I took a big warm sweat shirt I was wearing, and gave it to someone else. Then I took off the sweater and gave it away to hold. I only had a black sleveless T-shirt on then and felt really cool and nice.

Then I undid my belt and took my jeans down and started getting the various things from my pockets and giving to the girls. Well, about this time one of the girls, Allison, totally turned red with embarrassment and was covering her face with her hands. Somehow, she had never really caught on before that I was wearing 2 pairs of pants, although we had all talked about it on the stairs, and they had been giving me things.

So I, and a couple of the girls started kidding her a little, quite loud actually, and I did like I was doing a striptease. Suddenly everyone was getting embarrassed. And Kelly, who I liked a lot, whispered, which was easy to hear, for me and a lot of other people, "Please put your pants back on!" I was the last one to realize that about 500+ people in the huge subway station were all silently watching and listening to us the best they could. And here I was, a young American guy taking his clothes off and giving them and some money and other things to a bunch of young American girls in a crowded London subway station on New Year's Eve. Do you think they ever figured out what that was all about???

Rattlesnake Story By Rick Ketchum

Rick Ketchum — Thu Nov 29, 2007 4:56 pm

Author: Rick Ketchum

Posted: Thu Nov 29, 2007 4:56 pm

The perfect day in the perfect home movie summer began with a simple motorcycle ride around the loop. With a 12-year-old heart and my armor from helmet to boots, I had perfected my invincibility. I preferred my rattlesnakes buzzing then, as a foil to test all those willing to ride with me. Like the hills, thorns, ruts, rocks and heat, rattlesnakes absolutely delighted me.

My uncle from Nevada had heard we were seeing a lot of rattlesnakes while riding. Now he's a real horse-riding, cow-herding, old-time Cowboy. And he wanted some of them rattlesnake skins for hatbands and belts. So the cowboy took up cycling with us that summer.

We had found a couple in short order, in sandy places near the small creeks where we rode. One was a huge one with 14 rattles and a button, and 15 1/2" wide when he skinned it. We killed them easily and they skinned fast enough.

There were five of us that day. So while they all rested after going around the loop, before heading up in the mountains, I fooled around on my Yamaha on the hillside. We had stopped for a drink at a little spring, with a small ditch flowing off to the creek in the distance. Finally, they had recovered and yelled at me to get a drink so we could take off again. Setting my bike down, I ran up, helmet still on, for a quick drink.

I bent down and cupped the water to my mouth. Everyone screamed at me now, but with my helmet on I couldn�t hear what they were saying, over the strangest noise. I stood up and a rattler lay coiled up on the steep bank right in front of me, in the shade under a small Manzanita bush, buzzing. He struck in a blur. Then hung suspended right in mid air, fangs wide in front of my eyes! Then he fell into the little spring at my feet. I jumped back and stumbled away.

Well, there were no rocks around, so we ended up getting after that rattler in the little creek with sticks. Never drowned a rattler before, but five guys with sticks sure can do it, Chinese fire drill style, 30 yards downstream. My uncle�s infectious laughter got us all going, and my dad slapped me on my helmet like I was an idiot. We cut the head off and buried it. I still marveled that he hung right there, inches from my nose. And he had lay quietly coiled in the shade of the little bush while everyone drank!

Now my uncle went to skin him. The rattler still moved around some, headless and all, the last twitches. So my uncle put a foot on him, and started to cut with the knife. Well, the rattler just swung his tail around and peed right in his face! My uncle turned white. Sucked the laughter right out of him. Thought he'd been poisoned for sure!!!

We all let loose and couldn't stop laughing. No, the poison comes out the other end!!! He wasn�t getting it, and we started telling him he was looking pale. Did he feel okay? Then he washed his face in the little stream. We couldn't but help point out that that was where all the poison had come out when we drowned him. Boy, I sure never want a rattler to pee in my face! Finally he decided he wasn�t dying. Still pale white and almost shivering, my uncle skinned the rattler like a trooper. After a few swats with a stick to make sure no twitches remained.

Years later, we visited my aunt and uncle in Nevada, and were surprised to learn that she had to go out and kill the rattlers that came into the ranch. Because my Uncle was terrified of them and wouldn't go near a rattlesnake �