I love writing... I want to write a novel but I don't have a clue what would make an interesting book. How do I get ideas to write a plot line? How did you come up with the plot line for fight club?
WILL YOU LOVE ME FOREVERRRR Answer:
Consider that the core of ‘Fight Club’ is a man (eventually a man and a woman) who can’t reciprocate love and must fool others into loving and nurturing them. ( really, don’t we all? ) Start with a deception like this and know that in the second act ( of a three-act structure ) the deception will be discovered. That gives you two solid acts, and the third will be dictated magically by the momentum and the characters you’ve developed. It’s so easy!
they’re such an evil band
demonic in fact
My dad does the same thing every night when he comes home from work: he goes upstairs and changes out of his work clothes and into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, he takes the dinner my mom microwaves for him, and he sits in his spot in the living room and watches TV.
One day, instead of just watching TV, my dad put a disc in our Playstation/Blu Ray/DVD player. It was a video DVD of a My Chemical Romance album (Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. This was before The Black Parade even came out).
I was sitting on the other end of the couch and hearing My Chemical Romance for the first time as my dad stoically watched their music videos, nodding occasionally between forkfulls of pork and rice. I was probably about fourteen, so then my dad must have been about 38 or 39.
Finally, at the end of one music video, he announced, “I fucking love this band. They’re from New Jersey.”
And that’s how I discovered My Chemical Romance.
I’m glad that Bilbo Baggins exists
Because in the book, the dude was pretty firmly middle aged when his crazy-ass adventure started
He was settled down in the house that belonged to his parents and had done precisely jack shit with his life
It gives me hope that maybe some nutcase wizard will eventually show up and be like yo
you’re a burglar now
don’t even care that you didn’t roll rogue homie we got dragons to slay and kingdoms to save
I waited ‘till it was all done to see what I looked like. Marie had brought her eyeliner, concealer, foundation, mascara, and bright red lipstick when she came to visit me last weekend, and she put them all on my face.
“Okay,” she said after she applied the lipstick. “Go look!”
I’m really struggling to come up with a way to describe what it’s like seeing your face in full makeup for the first time. I hate to use this word because it’s kind of cheap and meaningless. But it really is breathtaking. It’s awesome. It’s more than you could possibly expect. You know when you smile so wide that you have to cover your mouth? It’s one of those things. I looked beautiful. I felt beautiful.
(I guess Marie looked okay too)
Months ago, when Marie was still in France, I agreed to let her do my makeup. I don’t remember exactly how this happened or what we were talking about. I think we were on Skype. I know I was curious; she didn’t pressure me. I was not blackmailed. I wanted to do it.
Now that I have done it and there have been pictures and everything, a lot of people have asked me why I agreed to let Marie put makeup on my face. At first, my response wasn’t much more than “Well, why not?” But then my brother said he would NEVER let anyone do that to him. My oldest friends said they were “appalled” and “disturbed.” I should have asked them why, because I think their response to me wearing makeup is weirder than me actually wearing makeup. I’m not saying every dude in the world needs to try makeup, but you would NEVER “let someone do this to you”? That’s what you say when someone asks to pour a bottle of hot sauce down your throat. A photograph of your friend in makeup disturbs you? Maybe ask yourself why. What are you protecting yourself from?
In separate conversations, my brother and my mother both asked “Is there something you wanna tell me?” Because I guess wearing makeup means I lost 87 straight points or something.
Now it feels like I was literally wearing my frustrations with my gender on my face.
I think it’s weird and am kind of grossed out by how the majority of straight dudes feel like they have to be beacons of straightness. Makeup is isn’t masculine. If it’s not masculine, it’s gay (or girly). And if it’s gay it’s bad. Because lord forbid anybody ever thinks you’re gay.
Hypocritical disclaimer: I’m a straight dude. But I like to do things like get my eyebrows done and have makeup on my face and sing the girl part of Paradise by the Dashboard Light and reblog pictures of Benedict Cumberbatch looking gorgeous in a suit. I’ve done all of these things way more recently than I’ve made out with a girl. If straight points were an actual thing you could lose, I’d so be out of them by now. My Straight License would have been revoked and the Straightness Police would have shown up at my door and beaten me senseless for embarrassing the regime.
But that’s not how it works—even if it feels that way sometimes. I remember sitting at a dinner table one weekend with a few friends. I’d just said something that would have remotely alerted the Straightness Police and caused 32 points to be deducted from my account. I wondered, since these were fairly new friends, if they knew that I’m not gay. Then I thought, “Wait. Why do I care?” It seems like a lot of people don’t get to that second part; straight dudes like for everybody else in the room to know they’re straight. I could post pictures of me kissing a girl on Facebook and that would be totally okay. Plus 46 straight points. Everyone is comfortable. But a dude in makeup? That’s just horrifying.
I wish we could all just do what makes us happy and determine on our own what those things mean about our identity. I wish everybody’s identity was valued the same and that this gross “no-homo, look how straight I am” mentality didn’t exist. I’m disappointed that my oldest friends chose to be disturbed and horrified rather than accepting and supportive.
“The only and I mean the only reason I would accept for this is if you get pussy tonight.”
In other words: “You’ve got to no-homo your way out of this situation.” I can’t even count the things that are wrong with that. I guess, though, it explains why they’d act embarrassed: maybe they feel like accepting makes them look less straight. No-homo your way out of the situation.
I don’t regret taking those pictures. A lot of people did like them. But I’m sad that people who I thought were on my side hated it so much. It just feels like we’re way behind where we ought to be.
Oh well, David Bowie wore makeup and he’s way cooler than my shitty friends.