Eme Strife's Blog, page 8

Nine Cans of Red Bull and a Snow Day

Image from longislandpress.com

Hi, Scribblers!

I've been cooped up in my not-so-warm apartment all day because of this snow storm that's moving across the Mid-West. I'm always up for a day off where I can veg out and watch tons of Family Guy while eating lots of bacon and popcorn (yes, I eat them together, lol), so typically, snow days are relaxing.
However, there's nothing relaxed about my current state on this particular snow day.
 My eyes are bloodshot, I'm pretty sure I popped a vein in my neck, and if I were to randomly get a nosebleed right now, it would be Red Bull running down my nose, not blood. Lol. Seriously.
I have been writing like a mad person all week, drinking way more Red Bull than is probably allowed at one time, and I think I'm getting burned out. Unfortunately, Red Bull did not give me wings and make me fly as I had hoped. Lol, I actually pictured myself getting wings, and then having them quickly fall off, leaving me to crash and burn into a pile of empty Red Bull cans. Yeah. I may need some sleep.
 On another note, I know I had previously told you guys about the screenplay I've been working on for the last few weeks. Well, I've decided to write it out as a novel instead. The concept is a good one, but I realize and have come to accept that it's just not very pitchable for motion picture. That said, I will be doing lots of novel writing over the next few months, and hopefully have a few titles out over the summer, including part 1 of the Basilisk's Creed. I will be  sure to keep you guys posted on more developments as time goes on.
Well, that's it for now, folks. Stay warm! (^_^)
Until next time...

Much love,

Eme <3

Nine Cans of Redbull and a Snow Day

Hi, Scribblers!

I've been cooped up in my not-so-warm apartment all day because of this snow storm that's moving across the Mid-West. I'm always up for a day off where I can veg out and watch tons of Family Guy while eating lots of bacon and popcorn (yes, I eat them together, lol), so typically, snow days are relaxing.
However, there's nothing relaxed about my current state on this particular snow day.
 My eyes are bloodshot, I'm pretty sure I popped a vein in my neck, and if I were to randomly get a nosebleed right now, it would be Redbull running down my nose, not blood. Lol. Seriously.
I have been writing like a mad person all week, drinking way more Redbull than is probably allowed at one time, and I think I'm getting burned out. I know I had previously told you guys about the screenplay I've been working on for the last few weeks. Well, I've decided to write it out as a novel instead. The concept is a good one, but I realize and have come to accept that it's just not very pitchable for motion picture. That said, I will be doing lots of novel writing over the next few months, and hopefully have a few titles out over the summer, including part 1 of the Basilisk's Creed. I will be  sure to keep you guys posted on more developments as time goes on.
Well, that's it for now, folks. Stay warm! (^_^)
Until next time...

Much love,

Eme <3

Kinked Ch. 01

You walk out of the medium-sized gallery simply knowing in your gut that you had just wasted a good hour and a half of your time. They weren't going to display your work. You really feel like you had practically thrown away that copy of your art portfolio.Ugh. Fucking sea biscuits. Six months out of college in this bloody city and you still can't even get a local gallery rep to pay attention to even one piece of your work’s compilation. How the hell were you supposed to get any exposure with well-known galleries like Lehmann Maupin and the Parisian Gallery chain with this kind of beeswax going on? I mean, come on! You pretty much expected it to be difficult getting your paintings out there, but this had turned into another mission fucking impossible sequel. They might as well have named you Ethana Hunt or whatever the fuck the female equivalent of Tom Cruise's character is called. Goodness gracious.You really didn't think things would be as competitive in San Francisco as they were in LA, and had seriously underestimated the rough streak of the lovely Bay area. You have quickly learned that being a starving artist is an understatement here, more so than in the so-called City of Angels. You have been able to sell just two of your paintings since getting here; one to your step-dad— and he only purchased it as a gesture of his support for you—and the other to your best friend, James, for his fiancé’s birthday. Again, he was doing you a favor. So, yeah. In reality, you haven’t sold any of your paintings as an independent artist. You find this utterly discouraging. You’re beginning to think your work is really crappy, and you start to doubt myself as an artist altogether. You spent years studying art and practicing your craft, and yet couldn’t manage a single merit-based sale. You had graduated with fucking honors and couldn't even pay your rent on time now! Being a starving artist isn't fun in the least. You can never understand why people think it’s fascinating. It flipping sucks! Jeez. You really needed to get a steady job. You don't want to add being homeless to your list of growing troubles. You recall seeing a hire flyer in the Forever Twenty-One store on 39th street. You figure you'll go check to see if they still have an opening. Maybe you'll get lucky. For once.You get the store. As your kind of luck would have it, the position has already been filled. Great. Just randy-dandy perfect.You look around the block in frustration. Even though your mind is boggled with how unfortunate your circumstances have become in the last few months, you take time to relish in how beautiful the street is. There are several retail stores and restaurants lined up, and even a food market on the corner. You glance across the street and easily spot a bright red and pink Cirilla’s right in the middle of everything. It’s interesting that there’s a sex shop here. It’s not the most conventional spot for that kind of business, but hey, it’s a free country.  Despite your dimmed spirits, you can appreciate the beauty and glow of your surroundings. It’s even better that it’s summertime. The sunlight makes everything look better. Makes you kind of feel a bit better, too.You let out a deep sigh and take a minute to breathe and to try not to worry about your livelihood. It's going to be fine. You keep telling yourself this. You have to. You would go find and secure a job, and by the end of the week, too. You were determined to. You wouldn't let yourself sulk. You take in another deep breath, and with a somewhat renewed sense of encouragement, you begin walking down the block, looking through the glass windows for signs and posters that indicated the businesses were hiring. You walk by a lovely little boutique and get caught up in staring at a chic outfit on one of the mannequins. It’s a lovely orangey-taupe ensemble that you think is perfect for the fall. Man, you wish you had more money. You really want to get some new clothes and a bright red pair of converse for—Suddenly, you feel your face collide with something hard, and in your daze, stumble backwards, trip on your now undone shoelace, and fall flat on your ass. The remaining copy of your portfolio escapes your grip and tumbles down with you, splaying its pages and nearly coming undone on impact to the asphalt.“Ow!” you groan. You clutch your face with one hand and reach for your bum with the other. You probably look like a circus rabbit with your hands all over the place, but you can’t be bothered to care. You are more focused on trying to not feel so much pain. “Fuck,” you mutter. Ah, crud, my butt hurts so bad. You regard your busted portfolio in front of you. You don’t even bother to look up. You get pissed instantly. "What the hell, dude?"A deep voice echoes in your ears. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?" You see a hand reach out, presumably to help you up, but you ignore it. Instead, you move to gather the pages of your scattered work and piece them back together as quickly as you can. You feel like cussing again. Your portfolios were limited, goddammit. You can't afford to waste any of them. You finish gathering all the pages and realize you are missing two. You look up to see this stranger looking at them intently. You can tell it’s a man, but the sunlight is blurring your vision of him from the position you’re in.You can’t stop yourself from huffing as you place your hand out for him to return your drawings to you. "Do you mind?" You try getting up by yourself and instantly feel a sharp twinge of pain in your tailbone. Oh, Christ in heaven. You definitely landed terribly."Here", the man offers his hand again. He helps you up despite your reluctance to accept his aid. You want to be mad at him for causing your fall, but you also know that it isn’t entirely his fault.  You weren’t paying attention, either. As soon as you are on your feet again, you reach for the pages in the man’s hand, but he quickly and swiftly dodges your grasp. You look at him incredulously. "Um, those are mine, you know. I'd like to have them back if you don't mind"He just keeps staring at them. It’s weird. As he gets lost in the pictures again, your anger subsides and you finally take full notice of him. He has really dark hair, and pretty green eyes, and...tattoos. Lots and lots of tattoos. You are not a tattoo person at all. Never have been and would most likely never be, but you admit that they look good on him. Great, even. Heck, you think maybe it’s just him. He is a handsome man, and you are momentarily lost in admiration of his appearance.In your brief trance, you notice he seems…kind of familiar.Your observation of him doesn’t last long. You figure he is more than likely your typical good-looking, arrogant douchebag who knows he’s good-looking and thinks he can get away with crap because of that.He abruptly nods in what you can only assume is approval. "These are really nice. Can I see the rest?"The calm of his voice makes you feel...uh...you don't even know how to describe it. It’s weird. It makes you nervous for some reason. He doesn't look threatening at all despite the tats, but once he speaks it’s like you are under some kind of bizarre obligation to heed what he says. You just blink stupidly and give him the ledger. This is a bit bonkers for your liking. You were literally fuming seconds ago and now you’re feeling giddy like a middle school girl. Fucking hell."You a professional?" he asks.You shrug nonchalantly, partially trying to get yourself out of this stupefied daze. "Depends on what you define as professional"You see him cock his brow and then look at you. "Elizabeth Celletti?"Oh god...the way his eyes twinkle in the sunlight...the way he says you name...Your heart jumps at the thought that he knows you from somewhere, but then you quickly remember that your name is on all your artwork, including those in his possession."Ah, yes. Yes, most—most people just call me Izzy". Um…okay. You realize you just totally weirded yourself out with that last part. Izzy? What the hell was that?  The only person who calls you Izzy anymore is your fucking grandpa, you lunatic!He just nods, and then proceeds to ask, "Have you ever done tattooing before?"You’re a bit unsure of what he is asking. You’re getting caught up in the depth of his voice and its tone. "What? No, I don't have any tattoos. Yours are nice, though" Again, you don’t even know why you added that last part. Ugh. Stupid, stupid, stupid!He smiles, revealing great-looking teeth. And you think your brain just let out a gigantic fart. He goes on. "Thank you, but I was asking if you had ever tattooed someone else"It’s a weird question. At least to you, it is. You don't have any tattoos of your own so why the hell would he think you’d try doing them on someone else? "No, I uh, I haven't. Before. Ever, actually" Fuck, why are you stuttering so much?"Hmm", is all he says. Jeez, is that even a gesture of approval or disdain? "Are these types of designs your forte?" he gestures to the pages in his hands.You shake your head ‘no’. "I actually focus more on portraits and canvas art"He looks at you again with a smirk on his face. For a second, you finally know what it was like for the Wicked Witch of the East. It’s beyond stupid and school-girly, but you seriously feel like melting. But in a good way. A very, very good way. "That's a shame. Your patterns are intricate and beautiful". He goes back to looking at the pictures again.You have had lots of fans and supporters of your work in the past, but never has anyone complemented your work to the point where you blushed so hard that I feel they are complementing you directly.He looks up at you again, and his eyes are a bit too intense for you to handle at the moment. "I have a few clients who would love your designs. Are these for sale by any chance?"You slightly avert your gaze, "Uh, yes," then quickly shake your head. "I mean, no" Christ, what’s wrong with you?He smiles that cute, boyish smile again. His voice is ever so calm and you love how it reverberates with you. "Well which is it, Miss Celletti?"Miss Celletti? That sounds way to good coming from him. Jesus. You can’t help yourself. You really can’t. You start to feel hot, and Lord knows it’s not the sun’s doing. You manage to give him an answer that’s somewhat coherent. "Well, these...I dunno, I just use these designs to showcase as past projects. I've been more, uh, focused on getting my canvas art out there that I haven't really thought about selling these guys"He nods, and his eyes twinkle in the way eyes twinkle when someone’s engaged in conversation. "That's understandable. However, I can assure you that these designs are still canvas art. Just think of the canvas as people's bodies"After hearing him say this, you are ashamed to admit that while he is here praising your work, you are busy ogling his body. Although, you suppose that’s not something you can help even if you tried. His body looks great; toned and proportionately lean. You hadn't even realized just how tall he was until this moment. Goodness. Suddenly, you feel small, and kind of annoyed, too. You hate standing next to tall people because it makes you appear all the more short. You don't fancy being short. You actually kind of wish he could give you some of his height.Gosh, what the hell are you even rambling on about height for when this man is talking about possibly buying your drawings? This is money coming in. Just the break of luck you’re looking for!You shrug in acceptance. "You know what, what the heck. I'll be glad to sell them to you if you want to buy"He looks excited, almost like a kid. It’s weird, but in an adorable sort of way. "Awesome. My shop's right up the street. Would you mind sparing a few minutes so I can go through some of these in more detail with my staff?"You don't see the harm. This sounds like a promising gig. It was certainly playing out to be more productive than going from gallery to gallery and throwing your hard work at people who didn't give a frog's fat ass about it. "Yeah sure, why not?""Good. Pardon me, I'm forgetting my manners. It's nice to meet you, Elizabeth. My name is Caesar, by the way" He extends his hand to you, "Caesar Caldwell"You feel your eyes become as wide as saucers. Did you just hear him correctly? “I’m sorry, did you say Caesar Caldwell?”He nods. “Yeah”“Of the Caldwell Art galleries?”He exhales and wears an expression you can’t quite put your finger on. Skepticism? Irritation maybe? But he answers anyway. “Yeah, that’s me”You can’t believe it. Right here in front of you…after all these years…It’s him.The guy you had unexpectedly given your young and naïve teenage self to.The guy who broke your heart the summer before you left for college.The guy you didn’t expect to fall so hard for…Caesar.

Happy Bang-Till-You-Drop Valentine's Day!

Hi, my lovely Scribblers!

I know it's been a while, but I hope you're all having a wonderful Valentine's day; whether you're a lucky-go-happy singleton like myself or a boo-ed up pupil of cupid.
I know the day's already over for some of you--maybe not so much for others ;)--but I wanted to stop by to spread some love to you all, and in addition to that, congratulate Tommie Picklez, Jelesa Williams, Roland Lytle, Megan Wertz, and Lucy Dash on winning their free copies of my children's ebook for adults, A Weasely World.
 Congratulations, you guys, and Happy Val's day once more to you all. Hope you're all having fun, whether you're sniffing roses, munching on candy alone, munching candy off someone else, or banging till you drop :)
Until next time...
Much love,

Eme <3


      My stuffed animals, Popo (left) and Iku (right), send their love as well!