Some writing

Yes indeed, some writing. Not this here paragraph, this is to tell you about the writing. I don't think this is awesome I don't think this is anything but writing, but if you've a mind to some commentary, tips would be useful. Expect typos and grammatical inconsistencies. I'm not good at this stuff, though spellcheck should have caught most of them.

 "It's a little cliché to start this with any sentence including the words dark and stormy night, but hey that's what this is, no doubt about it. Cloud cover is so absolute the moons were blocked. Lighting round here’s in such a poor state that it's easy to walk entire blocks in complete darkness. This area is poor, the deprivation here is almost tangible, wrecked cars on the side of the roads, houses in dire need of repair, more boards than glass in the windows. Employment rate here is measured in the kinds of percentages that the unemployment rate is measured in nationwide. Nobody works here. Just living here is a guarantee that you'll never get a job. Which means only two outs, talent and crime.

I never had any talent, unless you count breaking and entering a talent, which left crime. Now crime I can do. Not serious crime, mind you, I'm what you'd call a petty criminal, house breaking, car robbing. Convenience store robbery when life hits a low point. As it often does. Well tonight I'm hoping that'll change, I'm off for a meeting, some bloke in from the capital. Mikey, the guy who's pretty much my fixer, reckons I'll be able to get a leg up into some outfit, all I gotta do is bring him in with me as it were. I reckon I'm going to be some disposable labour for a job too far below this blokes usual monkeys. But I've never been much of an optimist, hard to be living in this shithole.

 I walk some more, hardly noticing the streets as they pass by. Eventually I get to this old club, it's out of my usual neighbourhood, little more upmarket I guess. I walk up to the door and mention I'm here to see this bloke, a quick phone call and I'm allowed in. I'm met by some guy, weasel of a man, dressed in a shiny suit and dodgy shoes. His voice grates on my ears, it's all high pitched and nasally. Driving me crazy, I try to ignore it, pay attention to what he's saying, turns out it's unimportant drivel, do's and don'ts whilst talking to this man. Kinda obvious if you ask me, pay the bloke respect and I'll be fine, street bravado isn’t going to get me any brownie points here. He'll see through any bullshit I can throw at him."

And so there it is.

I have an idea for some more ramblings today, so I'll post them at a later time.