writes about nerdy things celebrates those things as an English teacher, and is the co-founder of the production house ADK MOGUL. He lives in the mountains. Thanks for reading; feel free to leave a message, and please don't ask if he's D(e)Press(e)d.
I’ve gone slightly unorthodox with my writing prompts, and did a somewhat edited version of this tweet to my class. I had them write the scene, dialogue, whatever behind this one, because Joshua Allen is hilarious and the kids would get a kick out of him. To go along with it, I wrote my own scene. Here it is:
Joshua Allen saunters into Colgate Elementary School in Boulder, Colorado dressed in nothing but grey sweat pants, a ketchup stained wife beater, and his grandmother’s tattered pink bathrobe, a bottle of Tequila Sunrise mix in his left hand, and a pair of green flip flops in the other. He’s singing:
“Oh I’m walking up the dock of the bayyyyyyy / sipping some jjuuuuuiiiccceeee with mah trousers down to my knees…”
“Shhhh!” from the classroom Allen is passing.
He stops, lumbers/staggers towards the door, picks his wedgie, and bellows “YOU SHUSH!” a toxic cavalcade of Chicken McNuggets and peppermint candy erupts from his spittle into the classroom, which responds with nothing but a “EWWWWW!”
He continues on towards his meeting with Little Timmy’s math teacher. He staggers in the door to the classroom where his wife—a staid, sterdy blonde woman in a cashmere sweater and glued (read: moused) hair looks shell-shocked at Joshua. He plops himself down on the plastic orange chair, removes his Ray Ban sunglasses from tangled grey/brown hair and puts them on.
He then addresses the teacher, “What the hell is up.”
It’s 104 degrees out today and the city is nothing but tit-sweat and ball-reek. Our minds are blasted blank. Our souls are the black flakes peeled off a charred wiener. Our bodies are damp bags of gross. Our feet are like some kind of goddamn barf apocalypse.
Hey it’s that blog I update semi-annually! I just dislocated my shoulder patting myself on the back!
Oh my God, I just reduced my parents to tears reading this aloud. Welcome back. Oh, it’s also a perfect 72 degrees here in the Adirondacks.
I’m planning on something of a road trip this summer. I have a thing going on in the Grand Canyon, followed by San Diego Comic Con, and I’d like to drive up the coast. Visit my brother in LA, go to San Francisco for the sole purpose of meeting Mills—the source of my ridiculous Tumblr fanboyism, and did you check out this essay? I’m probably going to spend the week trying to wrap my brain around it. Check out Portland, and maybe go as far as Seattle.
We’ll see if any of this actually happens, I’m going to say probably not, but when it does I’m totally going to do something like this.
I think I’ve written about my Secret To Great Writing before, but I’ll lay it down again: The repeated image. Just pick any image and repeat it here and there throughout your story, wherever you want but be sure to have it at the beginning and the ending. The more unrelated the image is to your story, the better, because it gets the reader thinking and making up their own wild interpretations that you never would’ve thought of, and it makes your story seem like there’s some deep subtexts pulling it all together if only the reader could crack the code.