first post

well guys, this is the first piece of any writing that i have shared with someone. let alone the people that read this blog. it kind of erupted out of staying home sick... well, here goes

It all started while I was waiting. You know, for something to happen. Not like the train arriving, or four o’clock to finally arrive and for the last bell to ring, but for something big. I could feel it teasing me from the horizon, and I knew it was coming soon. It felt, as weird as it sounds, as if I had been waiting my whole life for something like this to happen. I was just sitting in my cracked blue plastic chair in English class, looking at the time. It had stopped. The time had actually stopped. Fuck. The minute hand jumped back into place, and my self-pity dissolved as the clocks righted themselves. Aha! I wasn’t waiting for something: I was waiting for someone. The light hit me! It was a girl. She was going to come into my life, and I would change forever. Yes, that was exactly it. My life now had a purpose! Just like that.

The hour long walk home from school had never seemed more than a boring routine that had to be practiced, but today it was the transition from boredom to my real life. It had to happen soon. The long lonely weekend awaited me, but this time it was wrapped in the hope of her arrival. Sleep could only arrive too slowly as Saturday, yes Saturday, approached.

Maybe it was the cicadas, or the wind, that stirred me. I knew I had to move. I pulled on my jeans and a jacket while I tiptoed downstairs. Snow flurried down, and the streetlamp cast the world into an ethereal atmosphere. I stuffed my hair into a hat and climbed out the window, taking care not to wake the dog. Naturally, my normal modus operandi would be to exit through the door, but setting off alarms just don’t seem too appealing to me. Where to go, where to go… I set off at a steady run down the street that I happened to be on. As the snow began to come down harder, I ran faster and faster until I was sprinting down the road like a maniac. As I approached the exit onto the highway, I saw a lone car cruising rather slowly along Route 128. Not surprising considering it was 4am. Then a thought hit me – it must be her. It had to be her. She was driving to meet me. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, around the bend, toward the bright lights of the highway. She was almost here, waiting in that front seat to pick me up.

Please, come to me! I stood in the road, watching her smiling face. She was beautiful. It was like sunrise over the ocean. As the car sped closer, she kept on smiling. She was only a few feet away now; I could trust her. She was bringing me with her. I was ready to let go… She was mouthing something to me. It must have been, “I love you”.

how to become an author

Hey guys. There's some confusion over how to become an author on this blog. Here is how you do it! There are two paths you can take to publishing.

1. Create a Gmail account (which is very easy), and send me an email at grant.patch@gmail.com. I will invite you to the blog and you will click yes. Then you can log into the site at your leisure and upload your pictures, thoughts, stories, poems, paintings, etc. on here whenever you want.

2. Email me, and I will publish it for you. It can be anonymous. This way is slower; I suggest that you create a Gmail account.

Thanks guys. Don't forget to submit stuff for the paper-back copy of HtDC.

Also, some ways to think about this blog:

Do you want this to be a place to dump emotions in a rant? I would discourage this; this is mostly for literary purposes. Get a livejournal for that. Just a suggestion. I would also warn against becoming an author just to say shocking things because the internet allows one to become faceless. Shock value is good when done tastefully; I would warn against writing the word "fuck" a billion times. The word "fuck" can be used so many times it just becomes ugly and turns a story into something one doesn't want it to be. I don't know. It's just that it carries so much weight, and many people use it in every other sentence--it's hard to separate where the line is. The word "fuck" can carry a whole story on its back or it can make a story become ugly, or non-art.

Just watch the "fuck"ing, readers/potential writers. Submit to Whatever the Fuck you Want for that. It uses that word in the title! Go get 'em, champ.

Also, a good many of you are taking writing classes with either Mr. Dury or Ms. Crowell (right? is that the other Creative Writing teacher?). If there's a prompt that you guys particularly like, throw it on here. This is a good tool that you guys can use to polish up your stories. Yes, it's a tool. I'm a tool? No, this is a tool. Tool! Tool! Tool! Good word.

As a closing note, I want to encourage you all to be open with this. It's easy to throw an anonymous story on here. I want you guys to slap a name to the story. Heck, create a pen name if you want. Throw your dukes up!

anonymous drawing

thank you, anonymous!

Welcome and whatnot

Hello, dear readers.
Let us take this time to reflect on this website.
All right. I'm done.


Upload some writing, already.