Thinspread's profile
AGE:
24
LOC: Nashville, TN
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: July 20
LOC: Nashville, TN
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: July 20
myspace.com/ungerdoun
It is most interesting to me how word processing, that is, typing that you can see and edit with paste/copy/cut/indent, how this has all affected writing since it’s development in the late 80’s. Imagine how different our writing would be if we were limited to typewriters or pen and ink. It would be less edited and more raw, perhaps.
I’m a writing major at UT Chattanooga, and I hope to move as far away from Tennessee as possible. I need the ocean, namely; anyway I won’t be here long.
Writing will always be a hobby, probably never a profession. This business-centered culture is not conducive to my goals. I don’t want to warp my craft for anyone due to exhaustion/”selling out”/burning-out. I write when I am …
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Conquered college: qualified to quell qualms
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II The clouded sky was purple above the city. The neighborhood was pitch black. Kya Holland rolled up the window of her white 1992 Civic. She brushed ash off her tee shirt. Sprayed air-freshener. Sang. A delivery girl on a laid-back mission. Trees and blurred mailboxes moved by left and right visible only under the shine of her headlights bright under the night. This twenty-two year old child refused to think too hard. She made love with the moment yet had never danced in public. The digital...
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She She, cold blind and empty, moved and felt her own heart. There was, a curious thing forward, a beckoning speck ahead, Light. Illuminated movement, distance; her birth cave and the funnel path out. Pasted with air she coughed and sprawled, mouth in dewed grass, Stood up straight opened her eyes glued down upon a flawless circle spread of the colored visible; inhaling, gulping the sweet, clear invisible, Standing, everything graciously attached, under the first rising sun. She knew nothing,...
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Version 4
8 Reviews
3 Comments
The moon was as thin as lightning on a warm and windy January night in Chattanooga, and throughout the hilly residential neighborhood on the north side of town, the power was waiting to drop out as the skeleton trees, emaciated witches, teased the measly power lines, arteries of progress. Inside the swinging doors of his screened-in porch, with narrowed eyes and nervous knees 30-year old Jude Calliston sat and stared suspiciously at a large, slick brown-recluse emerging from underneath the w...
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I am a man who once said he could stand to settle down Made my bed beside the fire These days my eyes are stretchin’ beyond this settled town One last call for heroes… There was a redhead girl who liked to make her rounds She was a Superman collector I spied her wine soaked lies she was hidin’ underground, and I Didn’t have no bags to pack when I left I hit the mountain highways, ran the western sun I traded music for my bed Deep in the desert’s where I was my maker’s son, and I got high on C...
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This piece has remarkable potential in terms of suspense, mood, and setting. I found myself very involved with it, so I gave a long review. I hope I didn't come off as bossy; these are just subjective, opinionated suggestions. I would change "their lack of utility" to "the lack..." I would be tempted to say that no matter how much of "a shrine to comfort" his chair is, it's still an ordniary piece of furniture unless it speaks or cleans the carpet. At any rate, "the x was no ordinary x" is a ...
Great first two sentences, it takes talent to hook the reader that fast. This is one of the best pieces I've read on Urbis, and it's very masteful writing overall. I'll tell you why (not that you need to know, after all you wrote it, but because I hope that by spelling it out I can take it with me and make my own writing better): the symbolism can be any number of things. The story is true and honest no matter what the representations are, no matter what petty nouns (petty by nature, not by y...
This is really good writing, so my review may seem nit picky in it's attempt to try and give constructive criticism. "I often healed those the doctors felt to be hopeless." "To be" should read "were;" and, as it reads now, it comes across that the doctors felt the patients themselves were hopeless people, instead of their medical conditions being hopeless. I'm a little confused as to what "such matters" refers to at the beginning of the third stanza: the non conventional healing practices, or...
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