Benjamin Matthew Wallace's Blog, page 4

Mountain Jams

I carry my jammy-pack slung over my chest, not for the style of it, but for the feeling of the music resonating against my heart. Music is a universal love, even hearing-impaired listen to bass heavy songs to literallyfeelthe music. It's an experience we all have every day, singing a song on your way to work, or the tune that's in your head. Rarely are we so still in our mind do we find our inner radio turned off completely.

I love my jammy-pack. I love that it's a way to share my music with t...

The Things I've Seen In Dreams

This is the first, very rough first, chapter of a novel I've been working on. I have about 20,000 words down so far. It's slowly getting there. I've edited this first chapter a couple of times, though in all probability I'll edit it a dozen more and change who knows what.

Any feedback would be great!

Working title on the book is The Things I've Seen in Dreams


All of this happened, more or less.

This story isn't about Elizabeth, but meeting her did change my life. I honestly have no idea where I’d be right now if it wasn’t for her, and though this story isn’t necessarily about her she’s in it, you can trust in that. We had a brief love affair.
We first met at a coffee shop, as cliche as it sounds. I was in the process of being fired, or quitting, depending on whose perspective we’re looking at, and seeing as it’s mine, I was quitting. Elizabeth is a beauty. Olive skin, brown eyes you could swim in, smart, witty, a great painter - and she could hold conversation. We fell in love. Though we never told each other the words.

December 31st, 2011, new years eve, Elizabeth and I and my best friend Max and his beautiful girlfriend Jelaire drove up to the top of the mountains and rang in the new year listening to Peter Bjorn and John. We took pictures of the stars with our fancy cameras and we drank good wine and sang good songs and kissed happily. We all held each other in the old stick shift Saturn and warmed ourselves on each other. I’ll always remember that new years. I’ll always remember my loved ones. I don’t speak to them anymore.

Her brother Ben was a great friend of mine. We first met at a coffee shop. He came in as Elizabeth and I were working, I was still in the process of quitting, he drinks while going to a concert. We didn’t talk much, but that was the first time we met.

Ben introduced me to the girl I fell in love with. She’s a main character in this story. Ben was also in love with her. She was also one of Elizabeth’s best friends. Her name is Anne. She grew up in a small town. She is a musician, and I tell you with as much emphasis as I can possibly convey, she was the most lovely sight I had ever seen. I went to shake her hand, and she hugged me. I fell in love with her right then and there.

I don’t speak to any of the people who are in this story so far anymore. We loved, and held, and cried, and laughed, and sang, and ate, and drank, and lived together. None of them are in my life what-so-ever anymore, but I think about each of them daily, I miss them, a piece of me will always be theirs, as a piece of them will always be mine. I guess everyone is a little greedy that way. If we always take a little more than we give, after so many years, are we the same person we started out as?

January 1st, 2012, I quit the coffee shop. As cliche as it sounds.

Working away

Ah! Busy busy. It's been a weird couple of weeks. I've fleshed out a short story that I think (I hope) is finally done. I've also been throwing words at this story that has been in my head for a while.

I've also been stagnating on a couple of other stories. I find it hard to write at home sometimes. I think I really need to get a laptop, or a tablet, something so that I can just get outside and write.

I'm going to post the first chapter of one of the stories I'm enjoying most on here shortly. Read it, share it, give me feedback. Obviously it's not edited to look perfect yet. So if you like editing, I mean, feel free to edit the hell out of it ;).

Thanks!
Benjamin

Story ; winter hell and hobbit holes

The week before Christmas was the first real cold of the season. It was also the week that The Hobbit came out. Knowing this, my friend Luko and myself made sure we scored retainer at work. Thus securing our seats for the midnight screening of the movie.

The movie was great, Martin Freeman's portrayal of Bilbo Baggins was perfect, but everyone knows this, and knows the movie was great.

After the movie, retainer was cancelled. Luko and myself were called into work the following evening. Upon ar...

Story ; adventure and winter friends (pt. 1)

Working in wilderness therapy gives a unique view on the world. Allowing eight days of absolute separation from people you wish to be around, technology, and instant gratification, you quickly realize what is truly important.

Luckily, the majority of the people who work with you in wilderness therapy have the similar mindset on life, it's a strange coincidence that we all get there at roughly the same time and that we all leave at roughly the same time. Though we don't lose touch, we miss one...

The Greek Hero ; assignment

Ended up with a 99/100 on the assignment.

The ancient Greek
hero was not always a warrior. Though the mythos suggested that most
men were brave men at arms, and most women were lovely and generous,
it is in my opinion that the writers as the philosophers were the
same kind of human beings as we. It is with clarity that I can say
that those are the reasons why most heroes have flaws. The Greek
intellectuals wish to wrote them as we are, fallible. Related to us
in a way that we can look to the heroes f...

Dark Comedy ; a short (Invasion twist)

I
awoke in my dirty studio apartment washed in bright blue and pink
hues, and an annoying noise coming from the television. I grabbed for
the remote, stumbling for the channel up button with sleep still in
my eyes. Channel up, no change, channel up, no change.

"Fuck
it", I said.

Turning
off the television I looked at my watch, the Omega with leather
straps and scratched crystal that my grandfather gave me told me the
time was 5:02am. I got off the couch and poured a bowl a cereal, and
went to check redd...

The Last Stand ; a short

The smell on the air was arid, with the taste lingering in the back of my throat.
I would speak, but my men are gone. My children, dead. My wife.. I prey had a quick end.
I led this defense and suffered the fate they said I would. All I can do now is die with my sword in hand. A glimmer catches my eye to my immediate left, an old gem.. shattered in the fight sometime.
With it, I scratch my last words into a stone.
My joints ache, after days of battle. I can smell my wounds. Arid in the air.
The pu...

Poem ; untitled

Some women say they want the man of the artsy type

Some women say they want a man to protect them

This man has been given the run around before

What is this man

I am the warrior with a soul

The man who will keep you safe

I can write words to paper and make them sound great

I can break your enemies jaw without a hesitate

I can track that which is not wanting to be found

I can walk a million miles on this ground

What do you call this warrior with a soul

Hurt

To watch your lover grow towards another

I know I...