Fruck
Last night I got an email from University of Iowa asking if I was still interested in the writing community. Apparently I missed the deadline for submitting some sort of written work to prove that I can write. I had no idea I was supposed to submit proof of writing ability, so I had no idea that I had missed the deadline. Anyway, I have until wednesday now. They said it could be fiction, or an essay, or something like that.
Right now I am home from school, oscillating between procrastination and pulling short stories out my ass. I'm working on this overly sentimental, tripe filled story that takes place in New York and involves ex-lovers meeting after 27 months only they weren't lovers because he was married to her sister before she got hit by a truck, but they had an affair while the sister was living, and now they are sad people. Also, he has a prosthetic leg, and an eye patch, and he thinks he is an alien, but he isn't an alien, he just thinks he is one. she could be pregnant, but really she just stopped eating because she read the way of the pilgrim, and the internal rhythm of her heart is all screwed up because she keeps reciting that prayer and he wont get out of the bathtub even though he knows he should, and he keeps pretending to be his brother Seymour, and slowly everything becomes a J.D. Salinger story.
watch it.
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