—————> I’M BURNING DOWN THE WALLS TO LIGHT UP THE FRONT DOOR, TEARING DOWN THE HOLES TO SEE THE LIGHT ONCE MORE. JAILBIRD, NOT GONNA BE A JAILBIRD ANYMORE.
It takes creativity. It is the act of putting something on paper, that when others see it, a unique picture is drawn in their mind. All guided by the author. I definitely call that an art.
Wait, there are poeple who don’t think writing is a form of art??
The post was practically perfect in every way, and then somebody went and added Julie Andrews, thus shooting it into the realm of utter and absolute perfection.
Shout-out to all my brilliantly creative writer friends 💓
Shout out to all my writer friends and RP partners because I do classify RP as a form of writing.
Sunset wasn’t sure what to expect when she was told about The Ink and Paint Club when she arrived in Hollywood, but it wasn’t like she had anything better to do with her time. Walking up to the back alley where she was told, she knocked on the door as instructed, to the tune of “Shave and a Haircut."
After giving her password to a… Jesus, that was a large ape… She had managed to enter the club without a hitch. Old, 50’s sounding music was being played by… Holy shit, was that fucking Daffy Duck? She honestly thought he was dead.
Sunset glanced around the club as she sat down at one of the nearby tables close to the stage. It was a nice place, a little rundown, but that was to be expected. This place has been around for a really long time apparently. A few modernized touches were present, such as an automated cash register and a more advanced draft system for the booze, but other then that it still had that 50’s vibe.
She placed a drink order, a simple whiskey neat, and looked around as she noticed that a lot of men were starting to flock around the stage. She merely shrugged her shoulders and sat back, wondering what show would be in store.
TheWanderingSunset2 