I’d try to peek through the gaps between his fingers, attempting to piece together images through the tiny trickles of light and color that broke through the gaps between his knuckles. But that didn’t work very well, so I’d have to use my imagination to fill in the blanks.
And this is how I was corrupted, you see. Not because of the movies, exactly. But because I had to account for what I wasn’t seeing, based solely on everything that lead up to the darkness, and everything I heard while it encompassed me. I had to imagine what led from one of Dad’s “cuts” to another. —Mike Arnzen
—What Corrupted Me (ReallyScarry.com)
My colleague writes about his father’s habit of taking him to scary movies and covering his eyes during the most extreme parts affected his development as a creative writer.
This is manageable. Far better than some semesters.
Creating textures for background buildings in a medieval theater simulation project. I can always improve…
Nothing in this stack is pressing, but they do include rough drafts of final papers,…
Here’s the underlying problem. We have an operating image of thought, an understanding of what…
Representing the Humanities at Accepted Students Day.
The daughter opens another show. This weekend only.
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I applied to college when I was thinking about medical school, and first semester freshman year I deliberately didn't take any English courses, to see whether I would miss my favorite subject. Second semester, I took a Shakespeare seminar, and never looked back.
Thanks for sharing the news of this. I invite others reading this to answer the question, "What corrupted YOU?"