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midnightdiddleThe strongest passage from any piece of literature I've ever read is a single sentence. It's in Catch-22, which, while not the classic people expect for a great passage, is still a classic, none the less. When I was reading it, I came across this phrase, and I nearly wept. And I don't cry in movies, or books, or anything, really, except life. But this time, my heart shattered into what felt to be a thousand pieces, and those pieces shattered, and so on. The phrase is, and I quote:
"And Snowden lay dying in back."
That's it, nothing more, nothing less. I read this over a year ago, and this phrase, this simple sentence of six words, has never left my head. It's always there, lurking in the back of my mind, and more than once I've found myself mumbling it to myself, over and over. It's beautiful and ugly and dark and so many things, which is amazing, for so few words. I think this phrase, this simple thing, is what changed me as a writer. I now write things sparsely, trying to echo the same feelings I had when I read that phrase. And but God, what a phrase it is.
And I've come to realize I have a problem. I have this obsession with books, and it's kinda bad. I buy books like other people buy clothes, or something else. In the past few years, I've spent over three thousand dollars on books. I go the store, I see a book I find interesting, and I have to have it. And I don't really have the money to do this, since I'm a student, but I still do. More than once, this last year, I went without food just so I could buy another book that I wanted. The worst thing is, I don't even read all of the books I buy. I start them, but then I buy another, and move onto that one, and I don't finish the first one. >< Bad, bad habit. Costly habit, too, since books are exactly cheap. But at least it's not something like drugs, right?
So today, I bought a book (The Idiot, Dostoevsky) and a 'Books to Check Out' journal, to keep track of what I need to read, and I told myself I wouldn't buy another book until I'd read some that I hadn't finished yet. Did that work? Nope, because less than five hours later I was paying a cashier for Wind in the Willows. But I needed that book, for my collection. And I have these lists, this lists of hundred of books, everywhere, tacked up on walls. Lists of 'Greatest American Novels,' 'Books that Shaped America,' 'Greatest British Novels,' 'Greatest Books of All Time,' ect. And they're seriously everywhere. So now I'm going to consolidate all of the lists into my new little journal book, and then I'm going to go through all of my books, and the books I haven't finished I'll put in a bookshelf, seperate from the others, and work through it. That's my plan. And heavens, but do I have books... Far too many, but I want more, need more. God, I sound like an addict...
And in more news, a thought upon my writing. I'm beginning to lose interest, or rather, I'm beginning to feel inadequate. It's the reviews again. People say they like Tryin', that they love it, and now I'm so worried about the next chapter not being up to their liking, and that freaks me out. Alas. And then I read things other people write, and I feel inadequate all over again. I am thinking about taking a hiatus from the fanfiction world altogether, so I can read through my books and stable myself out.
Finally, the moment I'm sure people were waiting for, the drabble.
When Kakashi messed up and people were dead, when the council screamed 'treason' and 'traitor,' and Tsunade couldn't save Kakashi's head, Iruka grabbed his hand and ran. They ran for weeks, Kakashi numbly following Iruka's footsteps, muttering Genma's name under his breath again and again.
"Come," Iruka would urge, and Kakashi would stumble forward, clumsy and unsure, and Iruka would hold his hand, lead him away to safety. It was inevitable, though, that they would be found, that the Hunters would catch up with them.
"Come with us, Sensei, and you won't die," they offered kindly, and Iruka stared back at them, standing between them and Kakashi.
"You're serious?" he asked disbelievingly.
"Come with us, Sensei."
"It was an accident," he screamed, clutching Kakashi's hand, and Kakashi flinched. "It was an accident, a damn accident!"
"Sensei," they said warningly, and Iruka shoved Kakashi further behind him. Kakashi jerked, then grabbed Iruka, twisting, and the Hunters leapt forward.
"An accident," Iruka repeated, dully, looking up at Kakashi. A Hunter fell to his knees near Iruka, headless, and the second stumbling backwards, clutching at his throat, blood spraying from between his fingers. "An accident." Kakashi staggered a few feet away, muttering Genma's name, and Raidou's, Anko's, Ibiki's, Gai's. "An accident." Iruka rolled away from the bodies, climbing to his feet, feeling sick.
He led Kakashi away from the bodies and deeper into the forest, holding his hand loosely. After a time he stopped, dropping Kakashi's hand, standing with his back to the older man. "Kakashi?" he asked, staring at the dirt. Kakashi stepped closer, reaching for Iruka's hand like a child, and Iruka grabbed akunai, slamming it into Kakashi's chest. Kakashi blinked, his eye going wide, staring down at the metal protruding from between his ribs. His mouth moved soundlessly and he reached out for Iruka, wrapping his fingers around the chuunin's neck. Iruka stared back, lips turning blue.
"Iruka," Kakashi said wonderingly, clenching his hands around Iruka's neck with a snap before he fell to the ground, twitching. His hand jerked, fingers curling and uncurling, reaching for Iruka as the younger man fell bonelessly to the ground. He stared up at the sky, blue through green leaves, and his hand spasmed a last time.
And Iruka lay dying in the dirt.
And...end? If I were a lesser girl, I'd say Owari. And I just ripped off Catch-22 and Of Mice and Men. Woot! And this was written while I was on a Reese's high, so any mistakes are entirely blamed upon chocolate and peanut butter. And vague + short = this ficlet. Erg, arg.
I'm so freakin' random right now. Sugar high, I believe. So I'm going to go read, and maybe organize my books again, and then watch Star Wars, and eventually sleep, and ignore the fact that I'm still sick. Woot!
"And Snowden lay dying in back."
That's it, nothing more, nothing less. I read this over a year ago, and this phrase, this simple sentence of six words, has never left my head. It's always there, lurking in the back of my mind, and more than once I've found myself mumbling it to myself, over and over. It's beautiful and ugly and dark and so many things, which is amazing, for so few words. I think this phrase, this simple thing, is what changed me as a writer. I now write things sparsely, trying to echo the same feelings I had when I read that phrase. And but God, what a phrase it is.
And I've come to realize I have a problem. I have this obsession with books, and it's kinda bad. I buy books like other people buy clothes, or something else. In the past few years, I've spent over three thousand dollars on books. I go the store, I see a book I find interesting, and I have to have it. And I don't really have the money to do this, since I'm a student, but I still do. More than once, this last year, I went without food just so I could buy another book that I wanted. The worst thing is, I don't even read all of the books I buy. I start them, but then I buy another, and move onto that one, and I don't finish the first one. >< Bad, bad habit. Costly habit, too, since books are exactly cheap. But at least it's not something like drugs, right?
So today, I bought a book (The Idiot, Dostoevsky) and a 'Books to Check Out' journal, to keep track of what I need to read, and I told myself I wouldn't buy another book until I'd read some that I hadn't finished yet. Did that work? Nope, because less than five hours later I was paying a cashier for Wind in the Willows. But I needed that book, for my collection. And I have these lists, this lists of hundred of books, everywhere, tacked up on walls. Lists of 'Greatest American Novels,' 'Books that Shaped America,' 'Greatest British Novels,' 'Greatest Books of All Time,' ect. And they're seriously everywhere. So now I'm going to consolidate all of the lists into my new little journal book, and then I'm going to go through all of my books, and the books I haven't finished I'll put in a bookshelf, seperate from the others, and work through it. That's my plan. And heavens, but do I have books... Far too many, but I want more, need more. God, I sound like an addict...
And in more news, a thought upon my writing. I'm beginning to lose interest, or rather, I'm beginning to feel inadequate. It's the reviews again. People say they like Tryin', that they love it, and now I'm so worried about the next chapter not being up to their liking, and that freaks me out. Alas. And then I read things other people write, and I feel inadequate all over again. I am thinking about taking a hiatus from the fanfiction world altogether, so I can read through my books and stable myself out.
Finally, the moment I'm sure people were waiting for, the drabble.
When Kakashi messed up and people were dead, when the council screamed 'treason' and 'traitor,' and Tsunade couldn't save Kakashi's head, Iruka grabbed his hand and ran. They ran for weeks, Kakashi numbly following Iruka's footsteps, muttering Genma's name under his breath again and again.
"Come," Iruka would urge, and Kakashi would stumble forward, clumsy and unsure, and Iruka would hold his hand, lead him away to safety. It was inevitable, though, that they would be found, that the Hunters would catch up with them.
"Come with us, Sensei, and you won't die," they offered kindly, and Iruka stared back at them, standing between them and Kakashi.
"You're serious?" he asked disbelievingly.
"Come with us, Sensei."
"It was an accident," he screamed, clutching Kakashi's hand, and Kakashi flinched. "It was an accident, a damn accident!"
"Sensei," they said warningly, and Iruka shoved Kakashi further behind him. Kakashi jerked, then grabbed Iruka, twisting, and the Hunters leapt forward.
"An accident," Iruka repeated, dully, looking up at Kakashi. A Hunter fell to his knees near Iruka, headless, and the second stumbling backwards, clutching at his throat, blood spraying from between his fingers. "An accident." Kakashi staggered a few feet away, muttering Genma's name, and Raidou's, Anko's, Ibiki's, Gai's. "An accident." Iruka rolled away from the bodies, climbing to his feet, feeling sick.
He led Kakashi away from the bodies and deeper into the forest, holding his hand loosely. After a time he stopped, dropping Kakashi's hand, standing with his back to the older man. "Kakashi?" he asked, staring at the dirt. Kakashi stepped closer, reaching for Iruka's hand like a child, and Iruka grabbed akunai, slamming it into Kakashi's chest. Kakashi blinked, his eye going wide, staring down at the metal protruding from between his ribs. His mouth moved soundlessly and he reached out for Iruka, wrapping his fingers around the chuunin's neck. Iruka stared back, lips turning blue.
"Iruka," Kakashi said wonderingly, clenching his hands around Iruka's neck with a snap before he fell to the ground, twitching. His hand jerked, fingers curling and uncurling, reaching for Iruka as the younger man fell bonelessly to the ground. He stared up at the sky, blue through green leaves, and his hand spasmed a last time.
And Iruka lay dying in the dirt.
And...end? If I were a lesser girl, I'd say Owari. And I just ripped off Catch-22 and Of Mice and Men. Woot! And this was written while I was on a Reese's high, so any mistakes are entirely blamed upon chocolate and peanut butter. And vague + short = this ficlet. Erg, arg.
I'm so freakin' random right now. Sugar high, I believe. So I'm going to go read, and maybe organize my books again, and then watch Star Wars, and eventually sleep, and ignore the fact that I'm still sick. Woot!
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Date: 2005-05-18 09:13 am (UTC)I'm pretty sure I complain about writing at least as much as you do, more likely more than, so don't worry about it at all.
And I'm not seeing Star Wars till Saturday but for some reason I'm still getting all hyped up about it for tomorrow. Now I'm the strange one, hehe.