I just wanna write a blog post update with my new projects, tell you that Secondhand Memories is still on its way to publication, it has not been abandoned! haha, but going through long processes of waiting and editing and onwards. and I was also checking out my old projects on textnovel and I realized there were some gems in there… to kind of celebrate my returning here’s a bunch of things to look at! 😀 Old things at the end
My newer projects of course also visible on my Writing Projects Page:
Project 2: The Fringe of District 24
[Fantasy / Sci-Fi]
What lies outside of The Fringe?
No one has ever made it to the edge of the “World”
– or made it back to tell the story.
For District 24’s Shizuka and Yuji,
they’ve always dreamed of reaching the edge of the world.
But what exactly is the “World”?
Who constructed it? Why did they build it?
What was outside of its walls?
An epic journey into the unknown,
to test the limits of humanity and the reason for existence.
[NEW!] Project 3: Move「旅」
[Semi-Autobiographical / Slice of Life / Music]
The life of a struggling musician in a cruel world with no room for dreams.
I realized I had to come to terms with some of the things I’ve always wanted to express in writing for years, but never had the courage to do so. With inspiration from other cell phone novels that others are writing, I am going to attempt something I’ve always wanted to do. Express the passions and dreams and struggles in my life, and also write out a fantasy of an alternate reality if I were to follow my dreams whole-heartedly.
Hope you enjoy.
Project 4: All’s Well That Ends Well
[Apocalypse / Thriller / Slice of Life]
Sekai no owari.
The end of the world.
The story of the apocalypse
through a Japanese high school student’s eyes.
The final days are counting down.
A story of what’s truly important in life and how to fight for it.
Project 5: Multicolored Syndrome
[“An-Anything-Goes” / Sci-Fi / Abstract / Poetry]
A weird colorful world of eccentric random fun
where our worst nightmares and our most bizarre daydreams come true..
Story of a life painted over in an array of multicolours,
journeying across the universe, the seas, the mountains and the meadows,
slaying dragons, waging wars and conquest before returning to bed
after a cup of coffee, a conversation with a keyboard and singing to the moon.
Project 6: Itsumo Arigatou
[An experimental Instagram Novel / Slice of Life / Romance]
Told in pictures and words, a new form of a “picture book”? Pictures will be newly taken photos, old photos and some reposted pictures, blending reality and fantasy.
Thank You Always. Itsumo Arigatou. いつもありがとう
A tale of a girl who had always been alone, seeking meaning and love in her life.
FOLLOW THE STORY ON INSTAGRAM HERE (Make sure you get on the app and have fun!) Hashtags #itsumoarigatou #instanovel: Instagram.com/ItsumoArigatou
For Other Projects Visit My Textnovel Profile
Here’s a few pieces of writing from another project on textnovel that collected blog-like posts…. I’m going to dump a bunch of them here to reminisce…. there’s some nice little thoughts here…
—
A Journey on the Bus
“Inspired from the twitter posts I made while I was on the bus.
I seem to be able to focus on the bus. It’s odd. I love commuting, the scenery flashing by; the quiet atmosphere as if I was in a library. It’s like being in a inconspicuous place where no one cares what we’re doing, and we simply blend into our surroundings — like Starbucks. All we’re missing is a cup of steaming coffee. Or perhaps we brought it on to the bus with us.
I love the muted tones of the ride, the hum of the engine, the soft plush seats, the interior that absorbs all sound. There is the occasional staticky beats we overhear from an earphones, or small talk, barely audible. Hush. Quiet. It’s like finding peace in the motion. Its almost like being in murakami’s dreamlike writing tones, breathing all around us.
We are on a journey. Traveling, and immediately it becomes an existential and mystical experience. Inside the bus is a world where time doesn’t move, everyone is seated, motionless, silentl, captured by their own thoughts. Everyone in their own worlds — what are they thinking about? Yet outside, time is flying by, our destination is drawing closer.
What is our destination in life? So many things can happen in between point A and B — during our lifetimes. Even just now, our spirit soars with the bus, and points of epiphany occur along the way as we ponder on this and that; a release of emotions, the connection between human consciousness and the unconscious.
On the bus, we are in a dream state, hurtling through reality.
Hush. Quiet.
There is so much to a bus ride.
Next time you take the bus, take some time to think and absorb in your surroundings. Move with the rhythm of the bus as it shifts up and down on its springs like cushions. Observe what others are doing. Enjoy this world of itself.
Wonderful huh?”
—
Winter is Coming Part 1 & 2
“It’s getting cold.
The air crisp and airy; the skies a canvas of grey.
Silence.
Silence is deafening in the stillness.
Autumn is here isn’t it? Then comes the sure sign of winter around the corner..
What does winter mean?
The trees loses its colour, and sheds its radiant life onto the ground below.
Flowers wither and die.
Grass turn brown and are covered by the falling snow.
The geese fly south; animals return to their hiding places.
To hibernate.
To sleep.
It is a season of sleep. Sleep.
Sleep and death.
The air is becoming colder; an icy touch on the skin,
creeping slowly, slowly up our thighs, along our fingers, beneath the skin.
We feel the numbness eating at us. One day at a time, we become numb to the world.
Each breath we take burns our throat, our chest, our insides.
Watch that white cloud puff of our breath drift up into the air, to join the grey sky above.
With each breath we lose a little bit of the warmth in us.
One cringes when the sound of wind howls and wails all about, like the sound of a pack of wolves — chilly and eerie.
Winter is coming.”
—
“Winter is coming.
Watch as the snowflakes float and flutter down, slowly, dreamily.
Outside, a soft blanket of white, pure and clean.
Inside, the hearth of the fireplace grows warmer;
blazes of yellow, orange and red, fluttering about, all around the room.
Curl up beside the fire.
Curl up underneath a hot blanket, hiding away.
Curl up with a cup of hot chocolate and a book.
Curl up on the armchair.
Our home grows warmer. A sleepy warm.
A comfortable warmth that creeps up our body and coaxes us to sleep.
Christmas is coming.
The season of celebration.
Do you see the lights outside?
Do you see the Christmas tree? Glowing, decorated with thousands of glittering balls and jewels.
Children go caroling.
Parents hide presents.
It is a season of family warmth.
It is a season where people feel the closest together.
Winter is a season of love, joy and peace.
A warm, sleepy peace.”
—
The Acoustic Set
“You are sitting on stage.
With the solid comforting weight of your acoustic guitar resting on your lap.
It is your confidence and your joy. There is no other companion greater than her.
You ask her, are you ready to sing?
She responds at your slightest touch,
anticipation vibrating throughout her entire body.
It is just you and her.
On stage.
The lights are dim but multi-coloured.
A purpler here and there. A red over there. A green over here.
The muted tones of peace and relaxation.
The air is sensuous because of the stuffy warmth, thick with fragrances.
The fragrance of music. The aroma of music.
It wafts by you, swirling in the slight breeze from the ventilation.
You hear the soft dull sounds of quiet conversation. Whispers and soft laughter.
A tink of a glass of beer; a rustle of a waiter’s apron.
All is good and quiet. The audience is polite and well-mannered.
You smile at the audience and adjust your microphone.
Then you crack a few jokes.
They laugh and chuckle. With you — not at you.
You make a few gestures as you talk and interact with the audience.
Here and there your hands brush against the smooth wood of your acoustic guitar.
Then it is time to begin.
There is the sound of a fresh wave of applause; a hoot here and there.
They’re cheering for you.
Some of them are your friends, and they give you encouraging smiles.
You adjust your position on the wooden stool, and rest your hands on your guitar.
Then.
She sings.”
—
Write
“Words flow on a page.
Artfully crafted.
Masterfully woven.
Magic, spells and enchantment.
Yes. Create.
Create. Oh, nimble fingers, create.
Create in me
a new sea,
a new land,
a new world,
a new galaxy,
a new universe,
a new dimension.
Eight and a half inches spans two and three quarter oceans.
Pencil to vessel, ink into dragons.
The power of words spill from fingertips.
The power to invent, imagine, inspire.
The power to touch lives, souls, minds.
The power to change the world.
We are dangerous wizards and conjurors.
We are potent diviners and potionmasters.
We are psychologists and doctors.
We are dream interpreters and prophets.
We are gods and superheroes.
We are beasts and monsters.
We are angels and demons.
We are everything.
God gave us the power.
Wield it wisely.”
—
The Universe Around
“There are so many places in the world that I haven’t been to.
And just thinking bout it hurts my mind.
Each place is it’s own world..
Each with their own climates, cultures, style, and so on.
The vibrant and lively urban cores of mega cities like Tokyo.
The quiet rolling countrysides in the prairies of Saskatchewan.
The great jagged mountain peaks of the Himalayas.
The elegant arches and carvings of
The cobblestone paths of Europe.
The ancient islands of Greece.
The beaches of the Bahamas.
The sprawling grandeur of Chinese palaces.
The giant pyramids of Egypt.
The redwoods of California.
From the urban, to the suburban, to the country, to the mountains, to the beach, to the sea.
Each with their own beauty and majesty. What is it like to live in a different place?
They’re like parallel universes…
It is mind boggling to think so many different people in different worlds exist at the same moment.
Halfway across the world, do you ever wonder, what they’re doing?”
—
teehee!
-Takabird