|J'ai fait une vidéo sur youtube shitty à ce sujet! (pardon my french)|
Talent-less hackI'm just a vacant writer.
A copy-cat who only regurgitates lines that are cliche and stale.
They crumble in my hands at the slightest bit of tension.
How can I claim originality when this message has been spoken before?
I'm left with a un-needed poem, and words that won't inspire anyone.
"We don't need another talent less writer.
One who simply doesn't break the mold and instead fits themselves to it.
Carving out your own is what a "real" writer does."
"Hey now don't let this sorrow hold back your hand.
You have to use every opportunity of sadness and let it consume your work.
The darkest moments will eventually shine the brightest."
"What do you mean you're not sad anymore?
Don't you realize the art world craves sadness?
Because our darkest moments should be the ones that flip that creative switch."
But there is no creativity left.
I'll keep re-writing those words, even thought the meaning has been lost long ago.
Scribbled down lines with base-less motivations.
I'm not t
Sir Inadequate And The Impasta
Here, we start out with Larry Bacon, also known as Sir Inadequate, sleeping in his parents basement at 11:30 in the morning. Apparently late for work, he woke up with a start.
He was sitting bolt upright in his bed. Larry looked around while mumbling crazily “Whogoesther- wha whereami?” and plopped back onto his pillow. He looked at his alarm clock, blinked a few times and screamed “I’M LATE FOR WORK!” then runs out of the room.
Turns out “work” for our Hero is roaming around New York putting crying babies to sleep and drinking coffee in his pajamas. Sir Inadequate noticed some screaming coming from the main part of town, he got curious and decided to see what the commotion was all about. He eventually got there and saw something very strange.
There was a crazy man floating in times square; he was shooting scolding hot spaghetti at people’s faces, “What a weirdo” Sir Inadequate said as if he wasn’t walking around town in his pajamas. He shrugged and flicked a bit of his sleeping powers at the guy, nothing happened. He tried again, looking a little irritated; still nothing happened. By now the guy had noticed our friend Inadequate and was just staring at him, amused.
Sir Inadequate was getting a little agitated. He mustered up all of his power and said his famous one-liner “Are you hungry? Because I’ve got some corn-bed!” and threw with all of his might. But the man merely laughed at this foolish attempt at an attack, and shouted over the commotion of the crowd, “No thanks! I only eat SPAGHETTI!!” and thrusted all of his spaghetti at him.
He was covered in spaghetti, head to toe. He glared at the man and bellowed “WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM DUDE!?” and he said “I, SPAGHETTI MAN, HAVE A PROBLEM WITH YOU!!” and kept on shooting spaghetti at him until he was a big,
After a while, he realized what was going on, and started eating the spaghetti until he was relatively free. He struggled out and kept on eating until it was all gone, despite it not being very good. Sir Inadequate called “Hey Spaghetti DORK! You could use a change in recipe!”. Spaghetti looked as if he had insulted his ancient spaghetti ancestors.
“YOU. TAKE. THAT. BACK!” he bellowed, deciding to tackle Sir Inadequate instead of using the spaghetti blasters. He was actually quite strong, they punched, kicked, and wrestled. Spaghetti man delivered one final blow before Sir Inadequate was knocked out. From exhaustion though, not from pain.
He woke up in a dungeon of sorts, it was dimly lit and the only thing he could see clearly were the bars in front of him. He grunted and went back to sleep. Spaghetti Man walked into the room cackling, “BWAH HA HA! I have trapped you in my secret lai- wait a second, are you still knocked out?” The spaghetti lover went up to Sir Inadequate’s cell and started knocking on the bars.
“Heloooo? Anybody home? grr… WAKE UP!” he screamed into the cell that Sir Inadequate was napping in, “Fivemorminutes…” he mumbled. Spaghetti man was really mad now, “No. NOW!” he boomed, Sir Inadequate rose slowly from where he was sleeping. “What do you want, i’m trying to sleep here...wherever here is.” he said looking at his surroundings. Spaghetti Man smiled deeply and proclaimed “You are in my secret lair, filled with traps, contraptions, and so much more!” Sir Inadequate nodded, “Uh huh, okay, so, why am I here?” Spaghetti Man stood straighter and said “Why, good question my friend. Or should I say, ENEMY. I have humbly invited you here along with the rest of your idiot crew to make you do my homework, and have my wedgie machine give you wedgies!” He laughed, “And you will finally have a taste of your own medicine! BWAH HA HA!”.
Sir Inadequate was confounded, “What? I never bullied anybody in school. Heh. I may have been cool, but I was no jerk”, Spaghetti Man took on the same look as Sir Inadequate. “Whaaaa…” he said before thinking back to his high school days.
“WAIT A MINUTE! You were that kid who always wore those spoogeblob pajamas and got F-’s in class!” He chuckled and said, “You were the biggest dork out there! I guess you could say you were, well are, Larry dumb.” He laughed and let our “Hero” back into the world to sleep in his parents basement once more. Before they kicked him out.
And That Concludes His Day, And Our Story.
Today’s lesson is: Never put your hand in a toaster.
Actually I'm not done.
Oh, keep going then.
He laid in his bed, much more comfortable than he was in the dungeon; he looked at his room for a while. He felt like he was losing a best friend, for the first time, he was sad. He thought about the great times he had in there, like when he spent 28 hours playing Camel of Duty, or the time he got dumped by his girlfriend that he had been dating for a week. “Good times.” He thought and drifted off to sleep almost immediately.
Now, before we start this part of the story. I have to tell you that this will change everything you ever knew about anything, your brain might explode. Or perhaps you will turn into a llama, whatever it is I hope you are prepared.
He dreamed about how he had gotten his powers.
We are entering the dream realm, so try not to fart. He dreamed about him dreaming, about him dreaming, about him dreaming, about him dreaming, about him dreaming, about him dreaming, about him dreaming, about him dreaming, about him dreaming, about him dreaming about eating a dancing banana.
Well that sure was anti-climactic, anyway. If your brain didn't explode, and you didn't turn into a llama, and you still don't get it; he got his sleep-inducing powers from sleeping. HA. Bet you thought he got it from a terrible accident, he was from another planet, his parents were super, or he just got bitten by a bed bug or something like that. But no, just sleep.
Um, are you done yet?
So that really concludes the story, and remember, if you sleep for 30 hours straight you can get super powers too!