I deleted the Reddit off my phone.* There was a bridge too far for me which prompted this, and I wrote out a whole screed as to why I did this, but it was very political. And I hate talking about politics. When I tell people that, (if they know) they say "But I thought … Continue reading I finally did something intelligent…
Author: Hetty Eliot
Sometimes a cigar isn't just a cigar. Sometimes it's a whole box of cigars. Check out my blog https://whothehellknows.home.blog/
Goodbye 2021…
I wanted to say something profound about the past year, about all my accomplishments and wisdom; or, more characteristically of me, about all my miseries and failures; but really I can barely remember the year. I had Covid and wrote some stories. Tonight I just want to close the book softly and lay it aside … Continue reading Goodbye 2021…
Happy Birthday, Mr. So&So
A fictional story Do you remember the old church next to the school where I met you? I don’t go anymore, not for many years, but someone told me that there was a feast day celebration, and I realized it was your birthday. I thought to myself, well, if this isn’t auspicious, what is? So … Continue reading Happy Birthday, Mr. So&So
Three days before Christmas
Just a self-indulgent blogger life ramble post, comments disabled so you can feel free to skip. I have nothing left to give, I'm bled dry, I can do nothing but whine. I mean this in the gentlest way possible but I don't want your sympathy, I'm no more important than a whoopee cushion... A whoopee … Continue reading Three days before Christmas
Get your mangers here
A Christmas poem And the angel declared unto us,"Mangers! Get your mangers here!"Be it done unto me, I said, give me a mangerSo I bought myself a mangerIt looked easy enough to assembleAnd I tossed the instructions to the sideSome wooden slats and a few nailsHow hard could it be?But it wasn't very comfortableGave me … Continue reading Get your mangers here
I Never Made Lunch For Mother.
A story I. It is early spring. Sunbeams and a soft breeze drift through the open window and settle on my quilt. Last night’s cup of chamomile tea is half-empty and ice cold. The tea is not the only thing in the room that’s cold. I have just awakened. I lie in bed in the … Continue reading I Never Made Lunch For Mother.
Ranch houses and cherry blossoms
A random poem. Sorry I can't be who you thought I wasI won't say who you wantedBecause I don't knowAnd that's the whole problemYellow ranch house and telephone wiresCrumbling stairsAnd an ancient carI just can't understand itCryptic blossoms, less than one percentCyber distance I still rememberPerplexedBecause I have a cherry treeWith blossomsBut no cherries.
Addicted to a waste of life.
[I'll get the update crap out of the way quick. At the outset of November, I was hoping to achieve a revision of a work-in-progress, but I quickly realized that it would necessitate a change from third-person perspective to first. While a big project, I wasn't daunted or disappointed--it's just big. I made a lot … Continue reading Addicted to a waste of life.
We’re overdue for a retail rant!
Howdy! If you're sick of all the Thanksgiving GIF's, enjoy a commercial break by reading a rant from a retail worker during one of the most hellish weeks of the year! It's gonna get ugly. First, can't really report any good news on my editing project. During this time of year in retail, pretty much … Continue reading We’re overdue for a retail rant!
Mortality lingers.
The talented blogger known as "Jewish Young Professional" (not a dating site) recently wrote about a turning point in her life when her grandfather passed away. It caught my attention and I was moved by it because the death of a grandparent was such a turning point for me as well. So I thought, why … Continue reading Mortality lingers.
Perspective (editing project thing)
Last time, I realized that the whole story, all forty thousand words, has to be rewritten in the first person perspective. I don't know that I'd say things are going "swimmingly" because it's mildly tedious, yet many issues are smoothing out quite nicely. I am happy to report that certain of the most cringeworthy dialogue … Continue reading Perspective (editing project thing)
Be still, my pounding, leaping, A-fib heart (November Editing Project)
As I go along, I've realized there are two components to my editing: the editing of the work and the editing of my mindset. At first I was going to log the needed changes, but I quickly saw that that would be a novel unto itself. To sum up what I've done so far—my first … Continue reading Be still, my pounding, leaping, A-fib heart (November Editing Project)
November Editing Project Thing (really half-ass nanowrimo)
In a recent post, I wrote about some piece of shit writings I am working on. Piece of shit the lesser is going to fall by the wayside for now except if I get bored and decide to put it out of its misery. I learned in September that having a goal that I need … Continue reading November Editing Project Thing (really half-ass nanowrimo)
Let’s keep it affable, folks.
From the spam files... I must say, as a lot as I enjoyed reading what you had to say, I couldnt help but lose interest after a while. Its as if you had a wonderful grasp on the subject matter, but you forgot to include your readers. Perhaps you should think about this from far … Continue reading Let’s keep it affable, folks.
When to save it, when to kill it?
What prompts me to write this is that I am sitting on a piece of shit--actually, a few pieces of shit. No, not literal shit--well, sort of literal--I mean stories I am trying to write. The biggest piece of shit I'm sitting on I started in 2014. I was going through a very difficult time … Continue reading When to save it, when to kill it?
Late night epilepsy rant with a little of my boss thrown in.
I've written about my life with focal epilepsy here and there, I'm sure anyone who's been on this blog before is tired of hearing about it. My boss is at it again. (She's not the main focus of this post for once, nor does she deserve to be at this hour, but she got me … Continue reading Late night epilepsy rant with a little of my boss thrown in.
Random crap so I can say I blogged something.
Warning: Diary dump.... scroll away as fast as you can. For some reason I can't get the emotional energy up to finish writing the five or six things I started in the past week. A friend dilemma, issues with my parents, life changes, stories... It's too heavy and I can't make the effort. It's the … Continue reading Random crap so I can say I blogged something.
Do I keep the book or return it? You decide.
Yesterday, I was browsing in Barnes & Noble and saw the collected poems of Anne Sexton. I read her short bio on the back and thought, this looks interesting. I'm going to put her on the shelf next to Sylvia and Virginia. Anyways, later on I decided to Google her and discovered she freaking molested … Continue reading Do I keep the book or return it? You decide.
Ch 30. High School Ritual: Epilogue (SepSceneWriMo)
Four high school students encounter an evil spirit. Thoroughly cliched and hopelessly derivative. Once we got home, Natalie told me everything I missed. The rest of it I pieced together myself. Sadly, I couldn’t tell her about my own adventures, because I don’t have the ability to do so in this dimension. I must say, … Continue reading Ch 30. High School Ritual: Epilogue (SepSceneWriMo)
Ch 29. High School Ritual: The Sacrifice (SepSceneWriMo)
Four high school students encounter an evil spirit. Thoroughly cliched and hopelessly derivative. The flame steadily grew in size while Natalie, Vanessa, and Mikhail stared at it. Chadworth, on the other hand, was absorbed in scratching out some calculations in the ashes. He got up and paced back and forth. “I have been studying quantum … Continue reading Ch 29. High School Ritual: The Sacrifice (SepSceneWriMo)
Ch 28. High School Ritual: Reunion (SepSceneWriMo)
Four high school students encounter an evil spirit. Thoroughly cliched and hopelessly derivative. Natalie did not know if she lay there for hours or only minutes. She thought about the hospital. She, at least, had had hope of getting out, unlike many of the inmates. Why lose hope now? So she stood up and resumed … Continue reading Ch 28. High School Ritual: Reunion (SepSceneWriMo)
Ch 27. High School Ritual: Lost and Found (SepSceneWriMo)
Four high school students encounter an evil spirit. Thoroughly cliched and hopelessly derivative. Mikhail’s father paused by Mikhail's bedroom in the morning, carrying his mug of coffee in one hand and a newspaper under his other arm. The kid hadn’t even bothered to get up for school. No wonder he didn’t make it through a … Continue reading Ch 27. High School Ritual: Lost and Found (SepSceneWriMo)
Ch 26. High School Ritual: Final Preparations (SepSceneWriMo)
Four high school students encounter an evil spirit. Thoroughly cliched and hopelessly derivative. Vanessa sat at her vanity table with her usual arrangement of the items required by the ritual, although she had since invested in higher quality stones and incense. She stared at herself in the mirror and brushed her hair for a moment. … Continue reading Ch 26. High School Ritual: Final Preparations (SepSceneWriMo)
Ch 25. High School Ritual: Up in Flames (SepSceneWriMo)
Four high school students encounter an evil spirit. Thoroughly cliched and hopelessly derivative. Chadworth’s stepmother picked him up from the hospital in his own Corvette. He barely said hello; he only opened the driver’s side door for her to get out so he could drive. He dropped her off and sped away. With both hands … Continue reading Ch 25. High School Ritual: Up in Flames (SepSceneWriMo)
Ch 24. High School Ritual: Home Sweet Home (SepSceneWriMo)
Four high school students encounter an evil spirit. Thoroughly cliched and hopelessly derivative. When Natalie's seventy-two hour hold ended, her mother picked her up from the hospital. She handed Natalie her bag and they checked out, not without prescriptions they had no intention of filling. Natalie turned her drained face to the sun and closed … Continue reading Ch 24. High School Ritual: Home Sweet Home (SepSceneWriMo)
Who the Hell Knows? 