Some Text for the Plagiarizer.

Here are a few sections of rough starts I made on a fiction writing project, where I looked at a black and white picture of a person in a questionable or strange situation and wrote about it. Neither of these came to fruition. Ideally I am hoping for a search engine hit for some of the words herein, a student steals it, and later it is discovered I was the writer. So, feel free to steal them and use them for your own purpose.

–The picture was of a young punk rock kid shooting up. 

“This kid came over earlier today, ugly little shit… He was wearing a Clash shirt and had red leather pants on. He said he was friends with Michael, I knew he was lying. No one is “friends” with Michael. You aren’t “friends” with your dealer… anyway, I told him to get fucked because Michael wasn’t here. He just sort of turned around, like he was in slow motion, and walked down the hall…And it was like the weirdest thing, It was like each step got heavier as he made his way down the hall. I just watched him walk. He never looked back. Just kept walking.”

“Did you ask his name?”
“No. Why do I care what his name is? He was some grubby shit who wanted a fix. Anyway, why do you care? The only thing you have for him is a blowjob.”
“Very funny…
“Actually it is kind of funny, because if all those guys knew how much dick you’ve had in your mouth, they would either a) run and hide or b) get turned on because they’re fucking freaks.”
“Not to mention the herpes…”
“Hey, Michael! We were just talking about you. Some little grubby shit was here about an hour ago looking for you.”
“Red pants?”
“Yeah! So you know him?”
“He’s a new supplier.”

The rush I get. That feeling of life for the first time, of walking the line of death and anguish, and shame, and tragedy, and love, and feeling, and time. Looking around the room and smiling at the wallpaper, and screaming at nothing until I slip deeper and deeper into the eye of the storm, swirling, twirling, reeling, losing my mind… losing my fucking mind… losing my fucking mind… Not replaceable. Nothing is, actually. Not Darby, not Mike, not Sarah, not replaceable, but you laugh. You see us, turn away, pull your child close, clutch your bag a little tighter, but you got it all wrong… we don’t care about you, we only care about getting high.

–The picture was of a man laying in the park and a couple walking in his direction.

‘Today had been a good day;’ he thought. The booze tasted just right. Everyone smiled and shook hands, and the glow of the fire kept us all warm from the night’s chill. Christmas is soon, and you know what that means… free booze, oh and maybe some turkey. But mostly the booze.

Oh, there’s the snow… I remember how I used to like snow. I used to revel in the delight of the cold and how we could never get angry with each other. How so much of our life we stand in front of so many things and use it to our advantage, to what we can and can’t do in this world.

What’s stopping me? Nothing I like it here. You’re the one who’s fucking shackled to something. I am free. At no cost. There will always be suckers and there will always be moochers. There will always be people who help other out of the kindness of their heart and always assholes like me to take advantage of it.

Remember last year when we had the huge snowstorm. Guess where I was. Sleeping. Worry free, because I don’t own a single fucking thing so I didn’t care if it snowed or if it fucking rained rocks. And if the power goes out? No problem I go to another shelter, and sleep there. I think I have it pretty good in spite of what you think. You’re so sad.



~ by Shawn M. Young on November 9, 2011.

13 Responses to “Some Text for the Plagiarizer.”

  1. 1) I kinda want to steal this, but now you know who I am, so I can’t: “You see us, turn away, pull your child close, clutch your bag a little tighter, but you got it all wrong… we don’t care about you, we only care about getting high.”

    2) The snow in the second fragment made me think of two things, both worth stealing if not just enjoying:
    a), and

  2. Simply put: I love The Pogues. My mom used to ask me if the man singing was retarded, and ask why I liked something that sounded so awful. My mom is sweet.

    Thanks for checking out my webblog!

    • Shawn, your mom’s comments are hilarious. Shane McGowan is certainly one of the least photogenic humans that ever walked upright. I don’t know if you had already mentioned the Pogues, but somehow I knew you’d appreciate them.

      Unfortunately, in some ways, my prognostication for 2011 in my blog post below was offbase (for my family) but this song–and the fact that McGowan is still alive!–gives me hope for humanity.

      • Yeah, she has her own way.

        Further, I have had that exact Shane Macgowan mortality conversation with every Pogues fan, ever… and as humorous as it the sentiment is, it is quite difficult to not consider him a god among men, not just in regards to his uncanny ability to compose poetry/lyrics while under the heaviest usage of alcohol by any living person worldwide, but that he didn’t develop a life-threatening abscess from his putrid, rotted teeth and die when he was 35; I wish I were that cool. Also, have you see this: ?

        (Yes, I mentioned the Pogues in one of my IMA “lyrics” classes.)

      • Thanks for the tip. Yeah, he seems to have some amazing constitution, perhaps otherworldly, because it doesn’t seem human.

  3. My husband reminded me you might want to check out this book, too, if you’ve not already:

    • Oh my, what an interesting looking book (tell him I said thanks), It will be on my next buying spree (this month it was Lord of the Rings; probably should have read that 10 years ago).

      • Cool. I haven’t read it, but my husband enjoyed it immensely.

        I read LOTR (what geeks call that book, and they call it a BOOK rather than three books) late in life, too.

  4. I didn’t feel cool enough to use LOTR (I finally watched all three movies last week for the first time, so I am now inspired — I was a huge D&D dork, so any high fantasy or medieval fantasy appeals to me, I just hate falling victim to hype; my friend cried during the final movie at the theatre, I was turned off until now).

    • I will never be cool enough to use LOTR. Those movies were good, though. I read “the” book after seeing the first of the movies. Enjoy!

  5. Hi Shawn,
    I am reading Flann O’Brien’s _The Poor Mouth_ and for some reason (maybe the hyperbole, maybe the Irish) I thought you might like it. I can’t recall if you’ve read Flann O’Brien, but in case not, this is a fun one to start with. It’s actually rather hilarious. Enjoy!

    • I have not read Flann O’Brien, but I will definitely add it to my list. My respect for the Irish runs pretty deep, and I am a huge fan of their poetry as a whole (is it possible to be fan of an entire island’s catalog? If so, I celebrate it. Obviously, as well as their music (and beer)). Ahem… anyway, thank you for the recommendation — noted!

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