Thanks, that did the trick! (Additionally, moved the file from downloads to a new folder in windows)
Keep getting an error when I go to download - "Cannot write file - access is denied", and this is after it says that login is successful.
That was a great read! The descriptions of the Pale Wood and dark forces, and the reunion between father and daughter stood out. Would love to read a continuation! I'll PM you a poem I've been working on.
Would love to read either horror or poetry, whatever you got! One recurring topic in my writing is teaching, since it's easier to write what you know. And I also some editing in my work, simplifying texts for students to make them more accessible.
A lot of classical dirty limericks employ similar vocabulary, was writing in that style. Appreciate the input!
I'm down. You're racking up a good score with multiple partners! That's great. What do you tend to write? For me it's poetry and short stories.
Another Lazy Sunday
As another Sunday draws to a close\ I wish again for more time to repose\ There will always be more goals to meet\ Chores to be done, promises to keep\ But I postpone all of those\ For the weekdays' hectic throes\ And slide back under warm covers to sleep
If you haven't already explored the literary genre of Afrofuturism or Caribbean futurism, it would be good to read some exisiting literature. The Deep by Rivers Solomon depicts merfolk as the descendents of pregnant African women thrown overboard from slave ships. Tentacle by Rita Indiana doesn't explicitly contain merfolk, but it does focus on water deities and mystical properties of the sea (as well as time travel and colonialism) in order to represent indigenous perspectives.
Strange Stirrings in the Sticks
I trudge down long dirt roads with my dog nearly every day\ we often wander far and wide until twinkling stars appear\ Last night something lurking out there bade us come and play\ Shadow tried to turn tail but I clipped the leash and pulled her near\ \ Onward we strode, crossing overgrown trails\ Shadow dragging behind while I silenced her wails\ Stabbed by thick underbrush, I strangely felt no fear\ driven by fierce desire, carving into that wild frontier\ \ Faint moonlight crept through branches\ but shifting shadows made it hard to see\ A sudden rustling in shrub patches\ again sent my brave bitch trying to flee\ \ Then bright red eyes burst through the dark\ appearing, encircling, and congregating\ Gleefully returning Shadow’s frantic bark\ their numbers rapidly accumulating\ \ As my breath was ripped away\ recalled old nighttime terrors\ Forced to kneel and pray\ beaten for unruly errors\ \ But Mama, it wasn't my mistake last night\ making me the bloodthirsty beast of now\ All those admonishments borne from spite\ compelled me to paths you did not allow\ \ Shadow at first fought our transformation\ finally submitting without further fuss\ to forest freaks facilitating our aberration\ with sharp-toothed slices and claw cuts\ \ Tonight we are reborn, and lumbering towards your house\ hopefully the horrid howling drowns out your fearful shouts\ It will be good to kneel and pray together as a family once again\ and we'll remake your humble home into a lycanthrope's den
A stack of unfinished poems
A stack of unfinished poems\ strewn across dusty floorboards\ Discarded dreams denied homes\ briefly adored but now ignored\ \ Upon scraps of crinkled papers\ scribbled stanzas so sincere\ In time whose promise tapers \ leaving their memory to disappear\ \ By damaged windows drift in drafts\ for this forum of found phantoms \ Judging the absent authors' crafts\ with attempting awesome anthems\ \ One distressed edge curls to reveal\ faint recollections of fragrant flowers\ At an age when trifles were ordeals\ and the greatest goal was superpowers\ \ Underneath are found a pair of elevens\ with a short ode to harmonic symmetry\ Sending this sentimental slice of heaven\ launched upward into air from obscurity\ \ Love conquers all but for the unblessed\ in this tale with ending not yet met\ Though will be revealed once possessed\ after abandonment delivers regret\ \ Below lies broken tender hearts laid bare\ that tried-and-true but typical display\ Tears soaked through sheets without a care\ words shrouded by smudges wiped away\ \ An angry roar as a bastard child is scorned \ on a floating fragment of inferred imagery\ Then a woeful wail for a parent mourned\ as an outcast orphaned simile\ \ This lonely land lies barren now\ its secrets seeking to be reclaimed\ Hoping someone someday somehow\ breathes life anew into affect unchained
Post finished or unfinished writing here
There are no rules other than being respectful. Anyone with a creative urge, or an urge to read others' creations, is welcome!
True, most Salvadorans support Bukele at the moment. However, several I've talked to in the US are hesitant to go back and visit relatives because their (non-gang) tattoos would make them targets for arrest.
Sure, control an oppressive and evil gang with an oppressive and evil government. That should work out well. Populist leaders with the power to lock up anyone seldom abuse their powers /s
Thanks for the input! I do like the busyness, but agree that the remains could definitely stand out a bit more. Tweaked the levels to try and strike a better balance. 
- Call upon Lemmings
- to graciously lend a hand
- with motivation
(I obviously can't figure out formatting on Liftoff) Into the idea of a writing partner if anyone wants to collab on that!
Call upon Lemmings to graciously lend a hand with motivation.
Doorway in the woods
A doorway opens
in the charred remains of home
through which new worlds wait
Canon EOS 5d mark ii Ef l100mm f/2.8L macro ISO 400 f/13 1/100
What are some of your ambient recommendations? I was just listening to Tim Hecker's Konoyo, also dig stuff like Global Communication, Boards of Canada, Grouper, Human Mesh Dance, Stars of the Lid, Biosphere.
Really into a electronic psychedelic cumbia genre that goes by Psicodelica Selvática (and other names) : Dengue Dengue Dengue!, Chancha Via Circuito, Yeahman, Son Rompe Pera, El Remolón's Selva really hits the spot too.
Interested as well if there's still room.
Alice made a face. Bob had seen faces before. He had seen Alice's face before. But not this face. This face was one he had not seen before.
Love the repetition in this paragraph too, like bad poetry, and breaks the show, don't tell rule so much that the shattered pieces become a thing of beauty.