Projections of Love and Sorrow: On Love and Longing /P

Critiquing the Critics

Clau; babymaking, my panties, now.

MB: "Ditto", not "Dido", Dido's a mythical character immortalized in a a Purcell opera, with her name stolen by a nonabrasive if slightly mediocre pop singer. Never mention spelling if its little typos in someone's fic unless they ask you to spell check it for them or if it's misspelled to the point of being distracting. You know it will end up being the old tome of the kettle, pot, and some kind of racial slur...

Twit: You are aptly named. Homophobia is at the very least an antiquated cowardice, one for which I may just sell your appendages on eBay, savvy? "Sorry but there it is"? Limpwristed and close-minded. Criticize a work you justify your shredding, Philistine.

Perforated: Genre is a spectrum, though, eh?

Shredding of Story itself

Evocative opening line. You have also improved upon my pet hate of the month, projecting to the gallery, though you were quite good with this to begin with. Don't hurt me, but when you do get the section of the action standing alone like that it's like the more lyrical moments of Mamet, in a good way. Ooo, nice rhythm, nice sentence flow. "Marshmallow skeleton" is an interesting metaphor, and has a nice balance to its phrasing.
Okay, sometimes you do get a little dopey-sentimental, but it works with your voice, it has this ill-fit about it that it's not quite the persona's natural suit, so it's characterization really, the blunt euphoria of the intellectual.

"Outside, the sun was beaming down in a fit of wild anticipation of flesh to roast."

One of my favourite lines in this. Your descriptions are much improved, much more observant and intricate without detracting from your voice. V good. Your choice of spankypants plus free glow in the dark handcuffs and you go in the draw to win a waffle iron, huzzah.

"He kissed me, unexpectedly and suddenly, with a force so brittle and small I thought I felt my soul crack"

Effective.

"The link between body and mind or soul, that ephemeral duality Descartes was plagued with, was not a link at all. The two coalesced almost immediately once the body was under attack by foreign invaders. Before that, it didn't€™t matter what they were, because they didn't€™t exist before then. But today things were different even more. Whereas the ages past saw the invasion, the marauded body, the age of the present saw the auto-cannibal, the suicidal body, the body consuming and consumed with itself. "

Deep, beautifully phrased, evocative, lyrical, completely divine. Sweet and cold.

Shouldn't this belong in Romantic Fiction, though?

Wait, these are two GUYS being talked about here? Gross. I didn't even read all of this properally, and having seen THAT bit, a good thing too. Sorry, but there it is.

-Twit

Dido. I dido everyone. But, I think it was kinda boring though. It seemed a little long. I think you should put it into smaller parts. There were like one typo, but no one really cares about those :). That's about it. Keep on writing!

-- M.B.Author

Even if I haven't read your other works yet, I probably will, judging from this story. I agree with Claudette, you do have some beautiful- more than beautiful, so eloquent and it totally fits in with the rest of the story- one-liners.

This kept my eyes drawn from the first line- all right, maybe I'm lying, I sort of skimmed through it then reread it again- to the last.

I didn’t understand how love could keep someone so alive when all my life it only seemed to threaten to crush every ounce of determination and resolve I had.

(just a sit would to practice religion this manner)