Playoffs Round 2: 1. Certain vs. 8. Zen \\ Certain wins 5-4

[Certain]

http://i.imgur.com/ve4aXeF.gif

Round 2


The Basics | Read the full rules here (http://netcees.org/showthread.php?t=96884).

Verses are due Monday, April 6, at 11:59 p.m. PT. There will be no extensions.

Votes are due Wednesday, April 8, at 11:59 p.m. PT.

Verses may not exceed 48 lines or 650 words unless agreed upon by the opponent.

Topic


"Everybody changes, not just me." — Eldridge Cleaver


Good luck, Zen and Certain.

[Zen]

I used to be around more often. Happy, the clown to talk with. Hopeful. Out of problems and smoking pounds of chronic with dope fiends. That was awesome.

Then I noticed it became a problem. Binging for days on blotters. Trip, and say it’s for knowledge, like that’s something that can actually be accomplished.

We’d ash weed on the carpet when it was you, me, and Ashley in the apartment. Damn, this past week’s been retarded. See, she had me with “Good morning”, and nothing else was important. Yeah, you must’ve felt ignored, but I still loved you, god damn it. Sure, I wasn’t there for you more, but you wasn’t any better OR I would’ve been there for sure.

Don’t you remember when you “borrowed” my car? Next morning, wake up, and it’s parked in the yard. You didn’t even remember because you were hopped up on charge. You told me when I asked you, “Where the fuck are my doors?”

Okay. That’s exaggeration.

We used to fight when we were bored. Half the time we were busted up with black eyes and bloody knuckles, but we’d act like it wasn’t something.

And my mama used to whoop our asses every time we’d come home.
“Where have ya’ll been!? I’ve been calling on the phone!”
(“I didn’t know it was three o’clock.”)

Yeah,
the time, it sure goes. It’s been years since I’ve seen you last, and I never will again. Let’s just bask and reminisce. We were all we ever had as kids.

Yeah,
sad is Zen.

You’re gone.
So am I.
She’s just over there rolling her eyes.

[Certain]

Twelve Oaks Recovery Center, Mobile, Alabama.

Day 8.

Roommate again. Had been a week.
Johnny stepped away. Spinning head. Spinning deep
back into the litmus pleas. The rhythm pleas.
He begged for mercy. They gave him ibuprofen.
But Johnny’s gone now, leaving behind the silence broken.
I never saw them wash his sheets before Greg walked in, weak.
First-timer. Lost and bleak.
He still chews his nails.
He still shakes a bit. Shakes the bed. Tosses, creaks.
It’s OK. It’s been an awful week for my own awful sleep.

Day 13.

Therapy days are the worst. Explaining our thirsts
to some sycophant who entered this field,
without ever experiencing the strain of the urge.
I’m getting better. They said I could be out of here by May or, at worst
hopefully by the start of summer.
You loved the summer.
Didn’t you? Sundays at the church, you in your favorite skirt,
me in your favorite blazer.
The only days we never would cover our faces with makeup.

Day 29.

I haven’t written. I know.
Regressing, tracing my bad steps, refusing their wrongs.
I’m getting brutal to calm, they said it in passing.
Who are they? Not you.
Fuck. The devils are dancing.
Not you. I fucking can’t … I can’t.
Even.
It’s odd. I’m pressing them on. They’re never remanding.
Motherfuckers don’t know how to be angry these days.

Day 32.

I just wanted to tell you I love you.

Day 37.

We went outside. Eighty-four and not a cloud in the sky.
They say fresh air can open our lungs, open our minds.
But I’m drowning inside.
I need to escape. Houses of lies.
Lies I’ve never told. But I’m down with denial.
Surround-sound music binges, through cordless headphones.
My sentence unfinished. Fragmented. Broken English
that’s what Anita the maid speaks when the guys are trying to flirt.
But I know she isn’t illiterate.
I smile, she grimaces.
I keep my quiet and limit my contact
out of respect.
To her, to you.
Forty ounce of regret.

Day 45.

I’m getting out.
I’ve been working my fears,
turning new pages
in the same book you authored.
A better me, certain and clear.
Earnestly here. Focused.
But I don’t know.
You’ve read these thoughts for long enough
to better grasp the entire world inside my tiny mind
than any trained shrink who tries to climb inside.
I’m getting out, though.
They set me up with a job, factory work,
down in Birmingham, as a packaging clerk.
For that I’m grateful.
It used to be that release seemed painful.

Day 1.

We do this again.
You’ve sent me here,
by never being there,
by never being.
Elusive and yet,
something never stupid.
We couldn’t be because you changed, drifted, sneered.
We both decomposed.
You disappeared.

[NYCSPITZ]

really enjoyed zen's approach. It was refreshingly different. Liked the variety of its moods and your delivery. I'll say that I wish it was more though. Beyond the cool narrative there was just the story of a drug addict who misses some chick.

Certain I'd say had more to chew on. Delivery was more powerful. some pretty dope lines:

Therapy days are the worst. Explaining our thirsts
to some sycophant who entered this field,
without ever experiencing the strain of the urge.

and ended emphatically. Good job.

V/ certain.

[Split Eight]

Certain. Was this 500 Days of Summer but for drug abuse? I don't understand at the crux of your verse, right at the reversion of the number scheme, what the driving cause was or even what is being referenced. I'm not sure I understand the reason for the relapse, the nature of the relapse, or the impetus for the relapse. Alcoholism? Not sure why attention was drawn to the mother. There were some standout lines, I just couldn't quite wripe my head around the overall theme. Even when I stopped reading without preconception and tried to suoperimpose the given topic.

Zen. Zen has steadily becoming a force to be reckoned with, as his narratives become more and more strongly tethered to the given topics. He has to be one of my favorite writers on the site by now. I thought this story of three friends who lost their chemistry was effective, not as potent as it could've been. The melancholia was strong without being stifling, which I guess probably accounts for my last sentence.

The total absence of the 3rd party was unsettling. I felt as if each character could've been developed more than just as tangential objects of misplaced nostalgia for the main character, it would've really strengthened a verse built on an excellent backbone.

Would just like to say that initially, I interpreted this the ending as Zen's friend overdosing, and the dissociation between the significance of the danger and the casual drug use was fucking beautifully represented by "She's just sitting over there, rolling her eyes" and now i want to write a story with that conclusion. Fuck.

My advice for Certain is to have more time to write you fuck. My advice to Zen is that his barebones style is aesthetically pleaisng and effective, but also is the perfect base for additional consturctions of plot/theme/character/atmosphere what have you. Sometimes I feel like your writing would come ALIVE if you weren't so witholding. And like, obviously you have to be careful in case of overdoing it & losing that style, but everything in moderation.


V/ Zen.

[UnbornBuddha]

Zen: You've adopted this style, and it is becoming your coin of choice to expound on the emotional side of journaling which you excel in. As soon as I see it, it strikes me simplistic but in a flawless way. It reads like a short story that grasps the reader with the content that Zen is feeling. Or perhaps you may not be feeling, but have traversed those emotional imprints at one point. And so you use them like any reader would, but what sets you apart is that it is one of your primary fuels to try to explain whatever it is you are trying to, by focusing your attention not so much on the language, but on the resonance that you can pour into the writing. Also I found the ending comical, considering the contents of last week's magazine. "Sad is Zen". If you are sad, cheer up my friend.

Certain: There are some things you did not do a good job at explaining. Perhaps I missed it, I am quite sleepy at the moment. But, who is the narrator sending those letters to? Also, I'm questioning that if the last new entry is really a relapse or is it just a reordering of the events so that you showed day 1 last. Instead, of beginning a new numeration. If it is the latter explanation, I think that is quite a cunning way of delivering such a platonic account. Albeit, some of the writing was strong and did manage to oppose many of Zen's strong suits. The format almost did a mimicry of your opponent, and both reads blended well, when read back to back. Although, this is definitely not you at your strongest ability, the content itself and its rearrangement was still sometimes impactful, in a greater scope than Zen's. Although, both were personal yours had more relatability to me.

Vote: Certain

Thank you both

[Soulstice]

Certain - Another piece and another demonstration of a sound grasp on writing techniques that give storytelling a bit of a flair. It's pretty clear that you subvert the constrain of rhyme flow and rhythm for emotion, character development and stylistic expression, the latter of which is applied in moments of repitition (please, awful, etc.). It doesn't have to rhyme insanely dope to be great (see Definitive Content, etc.), but there was always an aura of rhythm to defcons pieces that flowed well. I didn't see much thought put into the rhyme, it was more of a last thought kind of thing, rather than an effort to fire on all cylinders with the rhyme, story, and writing -isms. The natural language of the journal was fluctuated for me, I think the repitition was very human, but then it dipped toward some high-poetic stuff which didn't all fit together, especially over the course of a single day. Tone and style can work across different days, but not mixing.

So I thought this piece was the development of an unreliable narrator who misses someone who may or not have existed, it was like some shutter island shit or something. I must be right, the never being bit was so obvious. Let me know. An approach like this is something that would only even be considered by few writers, I think, chief among them being you, the editor.


Zen - A journey through memory, man once those days are gone even the bad times seemed good. Who needed doors anyway, you could brush her windblown hair out of her eye for her. The ending was cool, I feel like she got roasted on drugs too much, and is a shell of herself, but the narrator seemed pretty fond of drugs while reminiscing so, like, he would have a negative association with drugs if they fucked up his girl. Maybe its another girl, and she can't bring him the same satisfaction. Not sure, butit didn't really affect my view of the piece, just more of something I'm thinking about while voting.

One thing I didn't like was when you mentioned Ashley. That is such a thing a chick would not appreciate. Just remember her. The piece was enjoyable though, I like this style. I would say, like I think split said, work in some more, yknow, writing stuff. Prosaic nostalgia is the trope of tropes and is always evocative but evolution is always appreciated.

Dope battle, I think both pieces were extremely similar and Certain displayed a higher level of writing with what I think was an unreliable narrator. It was really close.

vote - certain

[dead man]

certain i was not quite sure who you're intended audience was either. i was steadily torn between an old flame and a female family member. i'm more inclined to go with the former, since it seems like a verse heavily hinged on romanticism.

forty ounce of regret.

your favorite blazer at church.

these were all great. your choice of alabama as a setting for this was interesting. maybe just the mood you're in. listening to all that bluegrass bojangles or whatever the fuck. i think the actual rhythm of your verses leaves me hanging sometimes, where im looking for maybe a bit more than you're willing to give. you're not one who wastes words, i assume your profession keeps you very on task as far as that goes. theres only so much column space. i can respect that. i think sometimes the phrases you turn may not have the impact behind them you wish they did. things like 'head spinning. spinning deep' and 'an awful week for my awful sleep'. maybe its your minimalist tendencies overpowering your better judgement but to me that just reads like lazy writing.



your entire progression was well done. i especially loved the final 2 stanzas and the contrast between them.

day 32 was my favorite though.

zen --

this felt deeply personal. like a memory youve been sitting on and maybe havent talked about. or at least not in this context. as someone whos been in some pretty sketchy living situations i really loved the image of the cigarette ash on the carpet. it gave me a larger insight into not only the kind of place you were in, but the comfort of your relationships and a general glimpse of your lifestyle at the time. friends of mine have held down apartments without furniture for months. just tvs and foldout chairs and tables for rolling. for that idea was really powerful.

if this is a real sentiment to your sister, i'm hurting for you cause those are relationships that can really die hard.

im very torn between the 2 verses right now. aesthetically, im so much more drawn into zen's because of his natural fluidity and emotive connection. everything down to his prose is an organic touch. im really liking it a lot. certain was, well, certainish - very pedantic almost to the point of rigidity, with a careful attention to detail and technical elements that make a topical verse great. its truly a clash of styles here. both with their faults and benefits like anybody.

i gotta run with ZEN here. with the fear in the back of my mind that he continues to write sad odes to this apartment for the rest of the tournament and we may miss out on some of certain's epic works.

but thats how it crumbles folks

thanks to both of yous

1

[CopyPat]

both were emotional little poetic gay faggots that wrote some sobby ass homo shit to get writer votes u fucks

zens rhymes were sick nasty. short but sweet verse, painted a lot of pictures with such little writing. well done indeed

certain was telling a story with names like greg and anita which i truly fuckin hate. just seems so fake to me. if this was a strictly story telling competition than i would have appreciated your verse more

i think this was close because zen teetered dangerously on the edge of not writing enough, period, while certain just went into story telling mode and i did not feel engrossed in the story at all, just felt like i was reading something manufactured the whole time while with zens it was soooo much more honest and real.

voting zen in this one for 2 reasons, first just personal preference in the writing style (rhymes and flow destroyed certains) . and secondly for the sincerity of his verse over certains

[Certain]

Next vote wins, period. Adonis?

[Adonis]

Editing now. In the future Certain. You know my email, just let me know what you need and I'm there, it goes straight to my phone/office

Zen - short verse that had time jumps. You built one character up, the main druggy male. I wish you painted a clearer picture of the counter part while drawing a bond using a few extra examples, because as is she seems like she should be the focal point but is under utilized. I still dig the paragraph structure even if it wasn't as fluid as last weeks Verse. All in all, not your best work in all honesty. Not as much build up as a verse centered around emotion and connection deserves to be successful.

Cert -not a fan of the rhyme structure and execution overall. Did enjoy the flashes of emotioN. The verses highlight was the short spurts of imagery though. The sweaty twitches on a squeaky mattress. The begging for drugs and getting the legal kind. The return.


This can be a tough vote because you both went similar routes in attempting to encapsulate a verse with emotions of a couple. Certain had the better imagery while also utilizing more lines to draw a stronger connection between me as a reader and his main character.


Voting Certain for a slightly more rounded and advanced style/execution.