Friday, March 10, 2006. My brain, it feels the strain. I try to stop the flood. The crud is rushing in. In like a swarm of bees. Oh, my god, I am allergic to bees. I try to get away. I am covered in the crud. Do I need a shovel. Or a new pen? Where do these thoughts come from. I try to write about love, and flowers. The power to see, the brighter side of me. I long for the sun to shine.

I am a college student who likes to write to express my feelings. Monday, April 24, 2006. Chapter 5 spoke about story. A Story has to have a conflict, crisis and resolution in order to be a complete story, it shapes up what they are talking about and what they are trying to express what they are doing. I could not find a story in the Antholohy book but i found a few that I thought was interesting in the Burroway book. If you want to read it, its in the Burroway book on Page 203.

These will be blogs telling you about my creative writing class in college. The knowledge that is learned and what goes on each day. Also, i will be posting my own work on these blogs, that will obviously relate to this specific creative writing course. Sunday, April 23, 2006. You were once the Kleenex to dry my eyes. You were once the voice to stop me from my cries. You were once the arms that held me tight through the night.

Fear And Loathing In Northern New York. Thursday, May 04, 2006. I am who i am and this is my manifesto. I do not believe in God, Fate, Faith, Heaven, Hell. And if you base your life upon these things. You will miss out on all the flavor and fruitfulness that is life. Its just paper, let it go, things cost money, deal with it. People like you make people like me drink.

Hi my name is Tyler Locke. my major at suny canton is forest technology and i plan to transfer to wanakena ranger school to become a forest ranger. i like the outdoors and i like to hunt. i am also a voluteer fire fighter for Canton, NY. Sunday, May 07, 2006. With day turning to night quickly,. The moon reflected light as it gleamed. While peter played the piccolo,. He the pickle between notes. Resting on the shoulder a mango gave out a weep,. He sprung forward crying out about the pickle in his eye.