The following is the first part of a brand new blog based writing project by myself and rigiddigits. Her own introduction can be found here.
The series announcement can be found here if you are looking for more information. Thank you and enjoy.
I know I'm a writer, but that doesn't mean I like writing. Honestly, I think all of this 'vent on paper' crap is bullshit, and that you're a waste of my time, but you're the shrink, so you might as well get on with it.
I met Kay about a year ago. I was drunk. As I remember, so was she, but she does tend to change her mind about the little details like that. I'd just been dumped by Maggie after something like three years. I can't remember how long it was; I was never good with birthdays or anniversaries or anything. That might be why I'm crap with presents and that. When you get dumped, you tend to get that drinking urge. I certainly do, but she was always a big fan of the sauce anyway, so pretty much everywhere I used to frequent was off limits straight away. I left Cambridge behind and just jumped on a train into London, but drinking there meant that I had nobody to drink with. I guess I jumped at the chance to talk to Kay; she was the only person there who actually seemed interested in what I had to say.
I was a lonely figure. It was the first time I’d really gone out around there, and I didn’t know anybody. I suppose this was part of the appeal though. I could leave everything behind, sit in a bar somewhere and scribble things down on my notepad. I’ve always been a man eager to work when there’s nothing else keeping me too busy. The sad thing was that I couldn’t find anything to write about. I just sat there, admiring the flesh that wandered back and forth. Most of the women there were boring for me. They looked just like everybody else, Maggie included. I ended up drawing things on my arms and drinking more and more colossal amounts. It was a down point - I’ll admit that. Kay did make me feel a lot better when I got talking to her.
She looked angry. I didn't know her name when we first started talking and she didn't know mine. It's not that we were trying to be deliberately mysterious or anything, we just didn't mention it. It seemed unimportant somehow because we both just had so much to say. She was newly single as well, very newly so. She had that little flash of red in her hair when she turned her head, and there was a focus behind her eyes that really drew me in. She was enticing; almost intoxicating in her own presence. Kay literally stole my attention straight away.
I suppose it was great just having somebody there who actually knew exactly what I was going through. We ranted, we yelled and we swore, all the time drinking copiously. She told me about her work and I told her about mine, but we kept it brief. It wasn’t something that I wanted to concentrate on, what with some of the magazines I write for shutting down slowly. By this point Honestly, she would talk until she needed a drink, at which point I would jump in and vice versa. It wasn't really a communication, and how can a connection form from that? I don't know...I guess it did. I barely even recall what we talked about back then, it just seemed to flow so easily.
I honestly have no idea how we ended up in bed together, but I think the hotel room was a brilliant suggestion from whichever one of us made it. It wasn’t planned; we just sort of left together with the same idea. You see, neither of us were willing to back down. We wanted to go to our own homes with the new fuck piece, and we just couldn't win each other over. This is a trend that we set there and then, and it was something that never went away. I was a fan of that though. That's pretty much exactly how I like things. She always kept me on my toes, she certainly did that night. It was like an outpouring from both of us: emotionless, loud and actually more fulfilling than any time with Maggie. Everything about the night was just so different, and it flowed easily. Then again, it's only really been difficult in the last couple of months.
It's never felt that much like a real relationship I guess. I mean, I've never gone off with somebody else, but I've never looked over her shoulder and told her not to do whatever and whoever she wanted to. I don't think we've ever actually given gifts on an anniversary; we've had sex on them though, though we did have plenty of sex. I suppose it was just an easy distraction from actual relationship bollocks. We didn't talk much, or cuddle much. You know, I think this is actually helping. I can see why we might be having 'relationship issues'.
I'll wrap it up here, since you only asked up to write down something on the first meeting. I could go into feelings and crap, but mostly I felt drunk and horny, so why should I bother?
I’ve seen a lot of people die today. God knows how many any died, but I
don’t even want to think about it. At times like these, in the movies,
people start talking about government conspiracies and you start
hearing about secret radio broadcasts by some sort of resistance, but
there’s nothing. We fled for the whole day. We couldn’t find a working
car anywhere, it was like the planes were targeting them so that they
could round us up. It’s a lot harder to get somewhere without a train,
especially when most of the signs on the motorway have been ripped down.
I’m not even sure where we are right now. I know it’s not safe, and
it’s not even a building. Along the way, we ran into some people in
military uniforms. They were getting people together and giving us a
direction to follow. Dad seemed to think they knew what they were
doing, so I followed and, before it even got dark, we ended up in this
little bunker thing and were told to get some sleep. We’re supposed to
be moving as soon as night falls. It makes sense. I can still hear the
planes flying overhead trying to find us. They don’t look alien. We
can’t even tell if they’re ours or not until they start blowing each
other up.
Dad wanted to talk to the woman in charge, but they wouldn’t let him.
The excuse was that too many people already wanted to talk to her and
find out the plan. I only saw her at a glance, and I didn’t really
expect to see a woman in charge. She doesn’t look like the old heroes
out of stories. She’s a lot shorter, with greasy hair and one of the
most battered uniforms I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what she does
exactly, but they all seem quite happy to do whatever she says, so she
must have a high rank.
Tomorrow, she’s heading to safety, and since a ton of us ended up
following her here, we’ll be following her there too, whatever it is. I
feel much better knowing that we have these people to look after us,
but I’m not looking forward to the trip. There are so many of us. The
last time there were this many was outside of our house just before the
missiles started flying. So many of those people were my friends, I
might never see them again. Some of them I know for sure. I saw the
bullets fly through them. I won’t be able to sleep. I can feel
nightmares coming, but I have to try. Captain Banner’s orders.
I suppose that the best place to begin would be the beginning.
I have always been somewhat talented when it comes to obtaining relationships, but somewhat incapable at maintaining them. Up until my first relationship I had no interest whatsoever in females. Companionship, sharing a life, sex, children, all of that I was looking forward to at some later date, but my intention was to focus on work. This all changed during my second year of college when I met Paty, who would become my first girlfriend. She was at the same college - an exchange student who was originally from Mexico. I would call her interesting, but, looking back, she was actually quite straightforward. We had seven months before she was due to return to Mexico, and that created something of a barrier between us, but we fought through it.
I was a child back then, and hopelessly infatuated. I used to make her Cds which told a story of my feelings. I would go and knock on her window to deliver them, which she always enjoyed. I would always spend the hour walking her home every night, then take the hour in return quite happily too. At one point, I made her a calendar using pictures of us. For her birthday, five months into the relationship, she was away in Paris, so I spent my time behind her back creating an hour long DVD of friends, experiences and my own little messages for her to take home with her and remember us all by. Of course, she spent her birthday in bed with a Frenchman. That was nice. I don’t think I’ve even gotten over that, and it’s the source of many of my problems. I remember the pain that came with this, but she would always blame me, and she never actually told me it had happened, she just ignored me in favour of him and alluded to it. I was devastated.
Still, hopeless and impetuous, I took her back. I watched her leave and broke into tiny bits when she did, crying my eyes out in the arms of a friend at something stupid like five in the morning. As it turned out, she did it again, and the relationship ended after exactly one year, and yes, I mean exactly. She broke up with me.
Within four days I had somebody else lined up, having had sex for six hours in the first night. This girl arrived in my life and I snatched her up; it was that simple. There was no love there though, and that made me feel guilty. The first relationship had changed me to no end, but I still wanted to be an honest and worthwhile person. Guilt, sadly, is a powerful tool, and it made me stay with her. That’s an issue of mine; even if I’ve lost interest with somebody I find it very difficult to break up. I don’t like being alone, but I am an inherently solitary figure. Anyway, she made it easy for me. She announced that she’d been taking drugs, and that she had ‘tried’ to cheat on me, but the man in question had proven too drunk. To this day, she doesn’t see how she was in the wrong, but I was so glad to be out of it.
I was alone for a while, pursuing somebody who I wasn’t really that interested in. I enjoy the chase much more than the result I think. You see, people tend to bore me very easily. I’m pretty much independent by this point, and nobody really caught my attention until Bridie; female three. Now she was an interesting one.
We were very alike, and, in fact, we still are, both physically and mentally. She was originally a long distance partner, but, due to issues with her family, she ended up moving my way. It was all very dramatic for a while and, for her migraines, she lost the job that had been lined up for her up this way. Now, Bridie has a previously broken spine that has healed on her nerve endings, so it has always been difficult for her finding work. Due to this, I ended up being the sole supporter of both of us, working quite far away and working very long hours at times. Also, because of the back and certain neurological conditions (very interesting woman) Bridie habitually either kept me awake or woke me up at stupid hours of the morning. I have literally never had such a low point, but I felt that she needed me, so, even as the love died, I stuck at it. I ignored my feelings to the point of turning them off, while working constantly, keeping Bridie from her suicidal tendencies and trying harder than I have ever tried before to get some sleep.
When she actually came out of her depression and started a new job, she suddenly didn’t need me anymore, which left me to actually sleep. This led, quite quickly, to the realisations that the situation had killed any feelings that I had for her. I tried to hide it again, but I couldn’t lie, and she could always read me quite easily. There was another attempt at suicide before the end, during which she offered me a few year of experience insults and accusations. It’s another thing that I just can’t forget.
Again, at a rush, I found another girl, the complete opposite of Bridie. This was Amy, a woman who would stop to check her hair in mirrors and had never had an orgasm before. Personally, I considered this a challenge. That’s a huge issue of mine; I’m drawn to the challenge of something to overcome rather than the female herself. I also seem to do things in pairs. After every woman that I love there’s one the complete opposite that I really don’t. Amy was a challenge beaten in a month and, after that, I ended up looking for new challenges. Not in other women, but from Amy herself. The problem was that there were none, so I was bored faster than I’ve ever been bored in my life. Of course, when I did finally escape the guilt to tell her this, she accused me of abuse, attempted rape and physical damage. Turns out she was using me as an excuse to get out of her issues and, when I left, she was annoyed that I couldn’t do it anymore.
I don’t have any prospects that hold my interest right now, though it is nigh impossible to actually hold my interest at this point. My emotions are nicely buried where they’re difficult to harm, but that also makes them difficult to reach. I’m okay with that. Life goes on, and I’ll just go back to my work, just like I always do.
I used to have a home to go to. Honestly, I don’t remember it that well. There are some things that stand out quite strongly, like what paintings my father had put on the walls, but other things, like the positioning of the telephone, just make me wonder. The truth is, we always hold on to the little things because they make us feel safe and whole. We’re all a part of something, but said thing is quite enormous and we’re anything but. Life goes on without us, but we can’t go on without life.
In time, you start to expect things. People are like that. Give them a cake every day for a month and, the moment it stops, they’ll kick up a fuss. They won’t just be grateful for the gift; it’s far too late for that. So, when you have a home, friends, a family…well, you start to expect that they’re going to stay. You expect your stories to have happy endings. You expect to have a shower waiting for you whenever you want it and a hairbrush and maybe a razor to shave with. You don’t expect that anything can change in a moment, and yet you still see it happen every day. Life is just a series of moments strung together, each one available for you to make the most of. Most of all, you expect that, when you wake up in a morning, it will be just like every other day. Maybe you’ll do something special, but you’ll still fit the same routine.
I remember the day that it happened. That wasn’t like any other day. I had always been a bad sleeper, but the sounds of screams roused me just before the explosions began. I watched my building being smashed apart. It all happened so fast, and every time I blinked I was hoping so hard that I was going to wake up from some horrendous nightmare.
I just thought I'd announce something new that I've just started working on. It's another novel named 'Battleships'. Disbelief is up to one hundred and fifteen thousand words now and it's rapidly catching up to the column, so while I'm slowing down and adding material that I missed in that, I've been putting together ideas for this new piece.
The base plot is about a modern day Earth that has been targetted by an external enemy who need our core for fuel and energy. Instead of bothering with a trade or a costly invasion, they simply nuke the fuck out of it. Battleships follows the stories of the survivors who make it to the Battleship, which is a mobile air fortress capable of bearing almost a thousand people in the event of nuclear war. Originally, it was designed as an evacuation vehicle and control centre, but it also has all the traits of a naval aircraft carrier. Unfortunately, it's neither finished nor perfect. (It has a railgun placement, but the railgun prototype was traded with an enemy country in exchange for the release of prisoners of war) It also needs to make constant stops for water, food and new recruits.
Another aspect of the story is the non-air survivors. These are forced to live down in the wastelands, under constant threat of attack from the enemy. Due to the radioactive territory, food and water is scarce, and just living down in the scattered towns means that people are slowly dying from breathing in the air. Of course, the Battleship is their only defence, so they have to be the ones to supply the food and water, so they have to move into the few territories still capable of sustaining life and risk their lives with the enemy there looking for them all of the time.
One more point to add is that they're much more technologically advanced. Humanity can not break the atmosphere, nor can we move at the speed of light. Our weapons are inferior, and we only have one military craft capable of repelling anything, that being the Battleship itself. Thankfully, the admiral is not only daring, she is suicidal.
She's also hot.
Expect extracts from the diary of the main character to appear in this blog. Each extract precedes each chapter, so you'll get those, but you won't get any of the actual work for free.
This week I have something very special lined up for everybody who is a fan of Disbelief. For one time only, I'm offering the first chapter of the final novel form to the public, all 10,704 words of it. That's more than five times the length of the original piece, or any part of Disbelief for that matter. It's stupidly improved and ready to be seen because I'm after feedback.
However, once again, I'm going to be keeping it somewhat rare, so not everybody's going to be getting it. I'm also told that there was some mild underhand dealings going on with my last piece, as well as some high tensions, so I'm going to be charging for this one.
Yes, you read right. I'm going to be charging 20p (roughly 30c) to purchase the novel form first chapter. I'm not going to release my paypal information just yet because I know what people are like. I'd get flooded with money before I actually bother telling anybody how to do things and, if you do that, then you're not getting anything. It is imperative that you pay attention to the deadline this time folks. Otherwise, you could end up losing money. No exceptions.
If you're interested, put down a comment confirming here. I'll be creating a group later in the week to act as a mailing list for anybody who wishes to continue receiving Disbelief special additions. It will be a private, invite only group where only group members can view your e-mail address and where I can hopefully get some extra constructive criticism from people who are definite and appreciative fans of my work. I love anybody who reads Disbelief, even though a lot of them bitch about it in other pieces.
Have a sneak preview:
The frosted windows, witness to the cold November chill, showed a bleak and dreary view of the beer garden outside. The few occupants that dared to brave the downpour were huddled in the limited shelter offered by the tall walls of mismatched old brick; taking long inhales from their cigarettes in order to hurry through them. The wooden benches and tables, still bearing a glass or two from when the day was light, had been abandoned the moment that the first droplet of rain had fallen. Now, with the shine of the moon running through them, those forgotten glasses were overflowing with the water from the sky. The view out of the window may have been bleak, but it was preferable to examining the inside of this dilapidated little bar. The faded colouring of the cushioned seats were just the tip of the iceberg. The tables would wobble dangerously unless the drinks were balanced perfectly, the floorboards would creak and bend when walked on and certain places, obviously the less favourable seating positions, were so thick with dust that they stood out from the doorway. The years of grime and filth on the windows were as unmissable as the years of damp and mould that were both on and in the walls. Without a hefty bribe, this place would never have survived a health inspection. Unfortunately for the four members of the rock band Disbelief, this was where they were booked for their first performance. Paul Taylor, bassist and vocalist for Disbelief, was currently sitting in the function room of the dingy little bar, his eyes focussed on the sights out of the window. Other than the creak of the floorboards when somebody wandered towards the beer garden, the only sounds came as the thick and heavy raindrops smashed against the thick windows. On a bracket, high up in a corner near the stage, there was a small portable television on mute. Paul may not have been watching it, but the display on that little screen had caused his band and himself a great deal of concern. The reason that the function room was all but deserted was that everybody within a mile's radius was currently crammed into the main bar, their eyes glued to the little white football bouncing back and forth on the big screen, high definition television. Even the nicotine addiction had taken a back seat to the local team's bout with the current league leaders. Barely anybody was venturing through to their designated smoking spot. The game was just too important to them.
Stay tuned for more developments. You have until midnight GMT on Friday night to respond.
Ladies and gentlemen, the erotica variant for Disbelief part five is complete and ready for viewing. It is going to be distributed for free in the time between now and forty-eight hours from now. This blog will not be publicised, it's just for the particulars who are paying attention.
Before you flood me with your e-mail addresses you should know that that's not going to work and I will continue to tell anybody who does that to bugger off. Once you have read the following disclaimer then post your e-mail as a comment here and, once the time limit is up, I shall begin sending copies out.
In supplying your e-mail address you confirm the fact that you are eighteen years old or older. You are of legal age to view such material, regardless of what country you are in, nor will you further distribute this piece of work. It is for your own viewing pleasure and is not usable for broadcast, re-publication or any use beyond your personal. This work belongs to the original author Tom Colohue and will only be distributed by him.
Keep your eyes peeled for an upcoming sneak preview of the Disbelief revision that will be on forty-eight hour alert this time next week.
Happy reading.
People who want the porn, but are underage: c-rob6422 hbk24 @!@(no dob on your profile to verify) woody42(no dob on your profile to verify) skanderbag(no dob on your profile to verify)
He could still remember the expressions of the four young musicians as they had listened to him play. Their mockery had stung and their eyes had been almost accusing. They had laughed at him.
Walking down the busy street that led him home, his white Fender in its case on his back, the only thing that Ed had to focus on was the abysmal interview that he had just failed.
Many were the people that passed him. Some smiled, some frowned, while some glared at him as though he had just raped their daughter. His carefully practiced expression of neutrality typically resulted in this range of returns.
The band that he had auditioned for were a group of three boys, all aged fourteen, who had been looking for a second guitarist for almost five months. Though admittedly two years their junior, Ed had turned up for the open call. He had said nothing, as usual, but had kept his attention entirely on his playing. He had pushed himself to the absolute limit, running through a hoard of original riffs before making up a solo on the spot. They had laughed at him.
The guitarist that they had eventually chosen, after criticising almost everything that Ed had done, had impressed them by playing the Blitzkreig Bop.
Silently seething with every step, Ed was quite surprised that the fake self that he presented to the world was holding. Inside, he felt beyond furious.
I just thought I'd give a few quick updates and give out some fresh information, so here goes.
1. My article on the life of Ritchie Blackmore has just been uploaded. It will be there for exactly one week and one week only. So be sure to read it. I've tried my best to make it as worthwhile and professional as possible, and I think that comes across.
2. Disbelief is still going strong. I'm almost up to part thirty and I think I've finally introduced all of the major characters into the story. We're ready to actually get started now.
3. The third Disbelief snippet will be done soon. This one will be featuring your very own Edgar Finn, by popular demand.
4. The alternative ending to Ally and Paul's encounter is also almost finished. However, for the sake of ensuring that it gets to a mature audience, I will be charging anywhere from a penny to twenty pence for it via paypal. I'll explain the system when it's done. I'm also doing it this way because it will thus be harder to obtain and hence a rarer piece of work from me.
5. My next series, 'The Modal Approach' is now up to part four of six. So I'm two thirds done with that too.
6. The UG story first piece is also half done. That will be receiving my undivided attention over the course of this week and hopefully it will then be done. It's been a lot of work and I only get paid for it if lots of people rate/comment, so please make sure that you do.
7. I went to see Transformers 2 recently. I loved Jetfire, so I was very glad to see him in the movie. I was also very pleased with the context in which he was used.
8. I will also soon be uploading a tab for the Disbelief song 'Thrillseeking.'
So anybody reading this please rate/comment on my work and read it while it's available. Feel free to leave comments on this blog too. I want to hear from you about what you think concerning my current, past or future works. How else could I possibly improve?
Greetings readers and a big thank you for reading, as ever.
I'd like to guage your opinion on a potential little project of mine. Having read part fifteen you'll note that Paul and Ally don't really get things going. I'd like to know if any of you are saucy enough to be interested in reading an alternate version where there's no phone call.
It would be rated R, and therefore unsuitable for UG, so it would be distributed by e-mail. It also stands a chance of being quite long.
If I have enough people interested I'll begin to write it, then consider distribution. Depending on the length and quality of it, I may be charging up to £1 for the piece, or I may not if I don't think it's deserving of it.
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Colohue's blogs, last updated : November 19, 2009
