Project Whale: Prologue
I’m making a publication, here’s the story:
I have trouble being punctual and making my writings flow like clockwork. So I thought I make it a necessity — it isn’t that of which will give me any sort of extra cash to help aid me in devouring food every two hours, yet — but more like a way of channeling my silence into things that would make noise inside heads instead of ears. Simply put, I need an ego-boost.
Let’s see how this unfolds before me.
- How would I call it
- How would I describe it, and
- How would I allow anyone to explain it
How would I call it?
First order of business: the name. Well, I would call this the Thing, but that would not go well when a court case come from Marvel would it?
I turned my head, and try to think of something that would stick, without being clingy. I obviously can only turn my head so much as I am not an owl, but the slight movement of my head along the x-axis reminds me that this should sound effortless despite me having to flop my head around thinking about how would I call it.
I like whales, hence the title of this entry. I love the idea of flying whales, how the big defies the existing. My Instagram is filled with quickly edited posts of me posing around as whales fly in the backdrop (or background?). How hard would it be for the word Whale to be associated with a page made by a kid with issues instead of big swimming mammals? I’m in for a surprise.
But incorporating the idea of Whales is still in the bag, so let’s try to find another word. (You don’t have to, I already took the liberty to find one).
*drum roll* Whales and Porpoises, The Cetaceans.
Because whales and porpoises are classified as cetaceans, and because pronouncing cetaceans is close to pronouncing “citations.” Lovely.
How would I describe it?
The main idea of how The Cetaceans came to light is bitterness. I admit to defeat that the thoughts circling within me tend to lean on the bad side. On top of that, there seems to be very little of me that are willing to let that go just yet. Don’t get me wrong, they would want to go away, but they would like some theatrics, a spectacle, seems like a benign exit is never of their liking.
This is what The Cetaceans wants from itself: it want to channel bitterness theatrically, to be able to say “fuck off” in utmost grace, and to be able to exploit negative energy into beautiful negative energy.
The fear, the anger, the hate. These are unacceptable, but at the same time fundamental. Their existence remains unworldly, and their form of expression remains liable. They do not need to come out as tantrums, they can come out as raindrops. Soothing, but can be just as destructive.
This is here, to embrace unworldly voices.
How would I allow anyone to explain it?
Let’s see if I understand how publication works.
The Cetaceans would be open to public, of course. We hope to broaden our audience and our writers and to create a community of unworldly writers. We welcome entry requests and promoting existing pieces from known folks or otherwise.
What is, then, entails a writer as unworldly? Simply put, the wit and the grit.
We are about publishing pieces that embody the enigma of basic human emotion: anger. But a lot of us out there and for a big portion of our lives channel anger in a way that never generally benefit either the giving or the receiving end of the energy. The Cetaceans therefore provide a way for people to let out their bitterness sweetly. Through stories or prose, through jokes or poets, however way you channel that abundance of energy, we are there.
Just like the whale gracefully strokes water molecule to move through oceans despite its size, The Cetaceans’ will embrace every bitter ideas of unworldly origins.
Thank you.
This project will be here for awhile, and I’m laying down grounds for basic guidelines for future writers and contributors.
Stay floating,
D.
