Swell, Son Bo-Mi, translated by Janet Hong
Cold air rushed through the door. The day was already bright, mustard light pooling in the cramped living room.
I don’t think I’d ever use the phrase mustard light pooling but I can picture it so perfectly. I love it so much.
Each time, she stayed up all night crying. After crying for hours, she felt wrung out, almost calm.
She felt wrung out, almost calm is a perfect way to describe the sensation you feel after crying.
That year, I couldn’t write. At night in bed, my body would fade while what was left of me swelled like a balloon—so much that it seemed it would go on expanding until it burst
Yes yes.
The thought tormented him. He was seized by the sense that some of the bonds within him, the ones that had always held his principles together, were beginning to snap. He was lonely. Unbearably lonely.
This probably describes everything I write about which bums me out that someone else did it better!
Almost all of Audrey Hobert’s album, Who’s the Clown but in particular:
Shooting star
'Cause he's perfect
He treats me like shit, but I promise you, baby, it's worth it
'Cause it hurts me
And I'd rather be hurt when I'm drunk at the club on a Thursday
It consumes me
And I'm totally loving the music
And I like it the best when I'm losing, baby (Oh)
All of my short stories are about people who love being with someone who treats them kinda like shit but they think it’s worth it.
Sue Me
Just me or does he look amazing
When he's all in his Amazon Basics?
Let's rip 'em off, top to bot', let's rock
Suddenly all the lights are on
Taking it as a sign from God (Sign from God)
And I'm saying it over and over again
If I could ever capture the spirit of the modern American man this way I’d die happy.
Sue me, I wanna be wanted
In my bones, yeah, I know it's platonic (Platonic)
But fucking your ex is iconic (Iconic)
Basically because the biggest story I’m working on right now is centered around the idea that fucking your ex is iconic.
Wet Hair
Overthinking, but it's okay
Didn't think that I'd see the day
No, I'm not even nervous
Nothing hurts, just burn me at the stake
'Cause I know that I broke your heart
But you could've guessed it from the start
At least you picked the bar
Ugh
Showed up with wet hair
I assumed you were there but you weren't
So I stood full of shit like I'm scared
Some dude asked me my name
What a rush, what a shame
'Cause I've been alone the whole time, I swear
Then suddenly, you're like standing right there
Your shirt's too big and you dyed your hair
And you're taller than I can recall
Like, when did you get so tall?
I’ve done this before.
Chateau
I don't care that I'm at the Chateau with thе whole A-list (Sorry, God forbid)
Can't lie, but I'm thinking, like, high school was better than this (Yeah, it probably is)
Are we legally bound to stand in this circle, looking around? Oh
Like, shit, how’d I even get in? And I’d love to get out, oh
Taylor Swift wishes she could write lyrics this relatable and twee.
Pheobe
And most of these days, I feel the dull ache
But then I say, "Stop," and then I feel great
Cause it could be worse, I know, I know
Know it in the worst way
We rehearsed this, mm
Everything's okay 'cause my life is so enticing
I love the line “I say, ‘Stop,’ and then I feel great. Because it represents the particular type of therapy I can’t fucking stand. Oh, I’m feeling a dull ache all the time? Life feels like one long stretch of never ending dull blue? Yeah CBT is really going to help there.
The first few chapters of John of John by Douglas Stuart
“Warmed by his congealing self-pity, he felt an oily resentment towards his father, a disgraceful rancour towards his grandmother’s ageing body, but marbled through this ran a vein of shame, that he should be so selfish, so reluctant to care for those who had once cared for him.
Congealing self-pity and marbled through veins of shame. I want to scream!
The locals called it the ‘ribbon road’ because it unspooled like grey grosgrain and collected the scattered whitehouses like a string through too few pearls.
What a way of describing a sense of place.
Here, at the edge of Scotland, he had been happy as a child. The shore and the hillsides were his to roam. And even if he could not believe every word of the scripture, he could feel how small and insignificant he was, and understand how all this must have been created by a God much larger than him.
In contrast this terrible passage from Dungeon Crawler Carl
longer, finger-like with extra joints. A flickering, horned skull sat amongst the smokey mass, its eyes made of glowing red fire that poured smoke. It was the skull of some sort of animal, maybe a colossal badger, but with curved, goat-like horns. It roared, and the ground shook.
Here to dissuade you from reading this book. I don’t care how many people say the audiobook is better or how the plot makes up for the bad writing. It doesn’t! It is bad writing and the plot is a paper-thin isekai. There are plenty of other versions of this that are better written or more entertaining.
Sins of this paragraph alone:
Smokey mass that poured smoke
It was a skull of some sort of animal (just commit to what it is. Is it colossal badger? Or a goat? You can make it up, be confident about what you write!
The entire story is written that way. The author isn’t confident about anything he describes!!