My first novella

Title: The story of a chaotic life
You like the title?
Tell the truth I did get some help, and it was a quick one
she just blurt it out…mom, damn.

Now going back to writing, except if I get a comment from a girl… yeeeeeeeeeha!
and also to listen to this

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

P.S. If someone reads this, you think the title would be good?
I´ve been playing with some other titles but I just called her
and told her about what I was doing and she just blurted out.

My first love

My first love…I believe I forgot my first love,
she probably flew away in some crazy disarray.

I do remember and very clearly my second love
which has eventually turned into my first love….

Writing, since I´m terrible at singing.

I don´t do it very good, but is not is like is giving me any food
so I don´t worry much about ever getting published but it would
be a nice touch for that and such.


It´s an addiction, really, I´m not saying any fiction.
In the blog I write poems…I think hence I exist hence I got my groovy mix.
I also write short stories and a terrible attempt at writing a novella which
is turning out as an ugly Prunella. I don´t have the technical knowledge nor
a vast and beautiful vocabulary….that´s freaking scary.

What I have is a bunch of words and ideas swerving through my head
like a tornado which I then have to thread in some way shape or even form.


I have no clue but if I don´t write something I will fall through.

I just love it, I just enjoy it….Like nothing else in this world to the point that it
even excludes cigarettes and beer, those do elude me when I writing mostly for
whom? Me.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

I don´t know where this is going….

I have no idea where this is going I just decided to sit down and type right
so here I am riding the wagon of malnutrition a lot of ambition some times
no times dichotomy of me is the for he is me then up goes the anti and I step up
the more the anti up I step up more and more so looking for dear Lord
sometimes I´m not completely certain other times I´m absolutely certain
then comes the dogs and the family or the other way around and then me
and damn i did forget about the girls, what can I say even my mother has called
me a man whore, can you believe that shit? your own mother calling you that
but at the end it seems I´m her squeaky little rat with a golden hat or just crap
but she still loves me which is quite amazing. Another thing I have realised right now
or the other day but typing it today is that I do not care much about myself when it gets
to being in danger or unhealthy but when it gets to my parent yesterday I couldn´t sleep
i even prepared money, my backpack, with clothes in case they had to go to the hospital
for severe bronchitis and that has only happened to me when in my old job, when I was
too cool to go to school mean tough man army days, and not so much to tell you the truth
if i had been that preocupied about my guys it would have clouded my  judgement and
that´s a job that poor judgement does have deadly consequences,but with my parents
fuck me been a long time i never experience a bit of anxiety, i stay calm in this situations
don´t know why but i do, dichotomy of me, but i actually even argued with my father
who will not go to a hospital unless he´s on his death bed, telling him that he could
basically fuck off but my mother was going, eventually she feels better today
and that was a freaking relief, belief that. I guess since I have been pretty much
on my own since quite a long time those emotions of caring for others so much
didn´t really enter into the equation for me, and I´m in crutches I can´t walk
with a broken ankle and I´m suppose to stay resting with the leg up as much time of
the day i can but screw that when i have my two people sick that i care about, i´ll walk to the end of the
earth,did it in the past but for other reasons but i still have it in me.

I have no idea what I just wrote. I just started typing away without lifting the fingers from the keyboard. Although I do see now I didn´t commit grammatical errors, screwbyyy, yay!

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

Real note to ponder


This is what I call the chaos theory. Where everything seems chaotic but there is a pattern to it. And the pattern to it is……just a bunch of words, short sentenced, quotes,some quick flash falsh fiction, so not pattern at all really. So this ended up put together after three hours of jotting down the same words but into another binder and I even put this shit by categories so what you see on top ended up like this

Foto 293

and to tell you the truth I kind of like how it looked in the first place. It has a more….don´t know the word maybe a rusty kind of look and feeling to it, problem was I couldn´t quickly find something I wanted to and just went with whatever was in my head. No wonder that the poem I wrote today I didn´t have to scratch my head too much as to what type of poem I should write. Look it! I even put that yellow marker over the word-idea I wanted to write about just to let myself known that I had already written about that. Which in the first picture I would stare at all that mess and then go back to what I had written to check if I already wrote that idea, or word, or about some quote that all give me some kind of inspiration. I´m a neat freak again! (I say again since there was a time when I really was a neat freak) the freaking notes are even  put in by categories. And what I´m holding is a huge binder by the way.

Just felt like sharing my odyssey with whoever reads this.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

writers block is a myth

Definition according to Merriam-Webster dictionary : The problem of not being able to think of something to write about or not being able to finish writing a story, poem, et.c.


First off, how in the world can you not think of anything to write about? I can write right now, look it I´m doing it now so  let me see…. I see a bottle of water right next to my computer why because it´s almost 30 degrees celsius, my heart is pounding at the thought that if temperature keeps on rising, and by the way it´s 12:25 a.m here in the land of the wild bulls I might get a heart attack. You know how screwed up it would be to die right now typing away. What in the world would my toombstone read, “he died doing what he loved, although at that moment he was hot as hell he was uncomfortable and had writers block so not really, he was actually miserable doing what he loved” This just came out of the top of my head. And with this I can probably write a short story. Now, if it´s a good one or a bad one that´s entirely different thing. But not being able to think of something to write about…come on. Is not rocket science. Just type away about whatever you see, a picture, a post in a blog, something you saw on t.v. Just hit the damn keyboards is not that difficult. I do have ten fingers and only use two to write. I´m that cool. I can write something right now about a writer who has typed so much during his life, a failed life of writing because in his mind he can´t finish a story and now that he is able to do so his other 8 fingers are not working so now it´s a tragedy, since it´s a painfully slow process and then just put some strange weird obstacle for that character to overcome.

Not being able to finish a story or poem? I can´t see that happening. Look:
Roses are red
Violets are blue
who are you
don´t know,
so screw you.

There it is, I just finished a poem. And a great one, at least for me, don´t care about what others say. How can you not finish a poem? Plus who in the world knows when somebody has finished a poem, if you don´t see an ending to it, I don´t know, just call it abstract poetry and write something random like this:

I don´t know
maybe you do
who you?
thinking of you
dark sea blue.

Makes any sense….maybe, maybe not. Maybe it has some insight in human nature or I´m just playing with words and playing with myself. Not in that sense though. Playing with my brain, so that´s part of me, therefore myself. And this piece of art is so cool that it won´t even go to school.

Writing a novel, that´s another science. But I can finish it, whether it turns out goo or bad, again that´s a whole other thing. But you sure can finish it, and if not move on to write some poetry or write some random stuff. Have fun, and once you have it, sort off has to come a bit more natural to write just about anything. So by strict definition, there is actually no writers block. I´m actually starting to think that somebody had to invent that to make people doubt themselves, then he or she created a bunch of miserable writers and he or she made a business out of making them take his or her classes to overcome the so called writers block. Sort of politics, you create a turmoil and then you enter the scene as the saviour.

Just a thought from an experience writerimages I have no clue who that person is, just stumbled upon it on google, while I was actually doing a research paper on pornography. I know, it´s kind of weird but I do  have to maintain by imagination open to all types of writing. Jesus, if there are porn scripts…do those guys ever have writers block. Never mind this last thought.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.


A Love letter from a new nominee.

I´ve been nominated for the 2013-Best short/long story post called

I´m a fucking Hero, and you are a dummy.

I´m that cool, I´m too cool to even go to school.

So the nomination I just saw in my little thing up there that pops up when you get messages? Anyways it comes from a person, I´m sorry he is not a normal person he is the MYTH the LEGEND men want to be like him and girls want to be with him he is…..



Mr. Kendall F. Person, I will like to tell you something out here in public. I don´t write about serious things so it´s kind of hard. But you are great guy. I remember you where one of the first people that I met and followed and then you followed me when I started with this blog thing about 6 months ago. I remember the encouraging words you write to me, not only in public but in private. I remember when you wrote the post about bullying and you asked  me to e-mail you with my experience and I did. I remember the good job you did at writing that post like so many others. I remember the encouraging words you´ve send me not only in public but through e-mail, specially the one “Where the fuck are you?” when I spend 2 months at the hospital. That meant a lot really, I´m not the best writer but I must be doing something right for you to give me your words of wisdom. So my friend, I´m really happy I´ve met you. This sounds to gay.

Sorry I only talked about this man, but all you people(81 people that´s fun, who would´ve thought)that follow me or read me, why? Don´t have a clue, but don´t think I don´t appreciate you reading and some comments. This blogging experience is probably the most positive one in my life, the most productive one, also the writing stories sending them to magazines to get rejected. But the blogging experience wouldn´t have happened without YOU people. So thank you.

You know what frustrates me? I want to read all the blogs that I follow and that they follow me in one day or two days and I can not do it, there should be days that last 34 hours to cram up all the reading my fellow bloggers, because their damn interesting to read.

Stay Frosty gents, and thanks again.