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10 March 2008 @ 10:28 am
On occasion, I like to check my email's spam folder in search of words that could potentially be interpreted as machine-generated dadaist prose. Sure, most of the time I just find pretty blunt [and often quite laughable!] offers to increase the size of my man rod, invest my hard-earned money in a foreign bank, or dapple in the business of illegal prescription drug purchases. And while all of these sound like opportunities I must be a FOOL to pass up [cough, cough], sometimes the semantics tickle the creative part of my brain's fancy-- it's true that with enough bending and shaping, any collection of words, no matter how literally absurd, can be given a poetic context; don't you think? Backstory aside, I checked out ye ole home of e-mail-based indigent scum this morning to find quite the interesting little piece. Under a few captioned images that covered the whole spectrum of such aforementioned themes of e-mail spam, I found some words that sparked my interest. After the addition of a line break and some punctuative markings here and there, this was the finished product. Please do indulge if this be your thing!

I dislike when summer comes, Nicola
(Original title taken from subject line)

Written?/Transcribed?/Assembled by "oralia"

Little sea,
year see.
Across he, me live.

After that,
the once-up land at about those
of when
life is almost.
Father most; come house.

Her what?
small, long, important in said water.
Went hard,
took in another air.

Which home?
Hard towards then-while right.

Anymore, ways work.

Point important?
Which picture?
Five hand words,
often one against soon,
light and back.

This under-water set in play;
which way?
This animal told/tell/called,
"take kind, she home."

Several then between,
does them under.

And here is the original text if anyone is interested in tinkering around to inject a different interpretation:

Little sea year see. Across he me live. After that the once. Up land at about those of when life his almost. Father most come house.

Her what back small long important in said water. Went hard took in another air which home. Hard toward then while right any more ways work. Point important which picture five hand. Words often one against soon light and back.

This under water set in play which way this. Animal told tell called take kind she home. Several then between does them under.
09 August 2006 @ 09:07 pm
The fourth scene my ongoing sci-fi adventure.

Read this after the first three.Collapse )
Current Mood: apatheticapathetic
Current Music: my mother is watching something on the HALLMARK CHANNEL
04 August 2006 @ 05:54 pm
Another scene from the sci-fi story. This is the third post on this tale...make sure to read the other two first.

In the alleyway.Collapse )
Current Mood: calmcalm
Current Music: Franz Ferdinand -- This Fire
04 August 2006 @ 12:51 pm
Another short installment...continuance of yesterday's post.

The other protagonist.Collapse )

Current Mood: boredbored
Current Music: Halcali -- Strawberry Chips
03 August 2006 @ 04:36 pm
So I'm excrutiatingly bored at work, and ended up spitting this out instead of anything I should be doing. It's a sci-fi fantasy type o' thing, so if that's not your bag, this probably won't interest you. Serious space-opera type action coming in the future.

If that is your bag, let me know what you think. More to follow...I hope.

FIRST DRAFT.Collapse )
Current Mood: grumpyheadachey
Current Music: Muse -- City of Delusion
18 May 2006 @ 08:30 am
what is happening, haven't posted in a while here it is May 18th, group sounds good though!
19 April 2006 @ 08:30 pm
In response to the prompt: Write a story beginning with the line,
"She was barefoot when she heard the car door slam and his heavy boots." Our whole class did it -- they mostly ended up about wife-beaters. I don't know if mine is finished or not.

She was barefoot when she heard the car door slam and his heavy boots. Her heart raced – she didn’t care what her parents said, she didn’t know him and she didn’t want to go! But when she’d complained to Grandma, Grandma had only said, “Don’t worry, dear, Keifer only looks scary. He’s quite the nicest young man you’ll ever meet,” and handed her a glass of milk.

His footsteps crunched up the gravel driveway, and she ran to hide in the crawlspace beneath the house. He walked past her to the back door, the one friends and family always used. When he knocked, Grandma answered almost immediately. “Oh, you’re here!” she exclaimed, sounding delighted.

“Where is she?” Keifer asked, sounding a lot less delighted.

“She was out in the garden, just a moment ago.”

His feet turned towards the back yard. “Lily?” he called a few times. When she didn’t answer, he walked back to the driveway, shouting her name into the empty field of grass next door. When she still didn’t answer, Lily saw his black leather boots striding back towards her hiding place. They paused right in front of her, and suddenly he kneeled so that they were face to face.

“Gotcha,” he said. “Now come on out. We’re going to be late.”

“Oh, Lily!” Grandma sounded disappointed. Lily crawled out, her hands and knees and dress now as grimy as her bare feet. “Let me just get her cleaned up…”

“No time,” Keifer interrupted. “Do you have her suitcase?”

“Yes, it’s just here…” Grandma handed it to him. Lily wanted to snatch it back.

Keifer tucked the small pink suitcase under his left arm, and looked down at the bedraggled Lily. “Where are your shoes?”

“I’ve lost them,” she said.

Grandma sighed. “I’ll go have a look around.”

“Never mind the shoes,” Keifer said. “She’ll survive without them.” And without any warning, he scooped Lily up and threw her across his right shoulder, toting both her and her bag towards his beat-up green sedan.

“Grandma, Grandma, help!” Lily shrieked. “I’m being kidnapped!”

“Nonsense, dear. Now, have a good time!” Grandma just waved her handkerchief in farewell, the white and yellow one with her initials embroidered on it.

Keifer deposited Lily in the passenger seat and her bag into the back, jogging around the front of the car to take the wheel. “See you, Rosie,” he called out the window to Grandma, and backed them down the driveway.
Current Mood: calmcalm
Current Music: Marshmallow Coast - Darkside of the Moon
05 April 2006 @ 03:40 pm
The letter arrived unexpectedly. It was from an aunt that I’d only met once before – “Meet me at the train station,” it said. Train station? I thought. Who takes the train anymore?

I waited on the platform for twenty minutes. Thirty. Forty. All the time wondering, what on Earth is she coming to see me for? She’d better not want money, or a place to stay, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to give it to her.

When the train came chugging in, she was one of the first people off. “Audrey,” she said, sounding suspiciously relieved. “I’m so glad you’re here. I tried calling you, but the number I had wasn’t any good.”

“My phone got disconnected,” I replied. “I didn’t have enough cash to pay the bill.” There. Maybe that would put her off.

“Oh,” she said. She looked uncomfortable. “This is for you.”

Looking down past her tacky blue tweed jacket, I noticed that she was holding a strange sort of a jar. “What’s in it?”

She held it out. “Your father.”

Written for Creative Writing. The assignment was to write a story with a beginning, middle, and end, in about 150 words.

BTW, welcome to new member erebos.
Current Mood: busybusy
Current Music: Sondre Lerche
18 March 2006 @ 05:14 am
Too often in today's world we see the rich and famous and their notorious behaviors highlighted in the magazines and newspapers, and general media we consume. Although I must admit that I participate (sometimes) in the fanatical worship/water-cooler fodder mentality that this produces, I find that this does not pertain to the actual functioning of daily life. We really don't think to emphasize the things we love about each other, assuming that what we think about the other people they must feel through some strange telepathy. It is rare indeed that we open up to those we regard as close friends, and the things we learn are secrets we hold in our hearts. This morning I had the privilege of sharing with two beautiful women and I feel all the more trusted and rich knowing that they have confided in me. What started out as a silly game turned into a bonding session I will never forget. And although I promise to keep your secrets safe (cross my heart) I wish to say a few things left unmentioned. These girls are of the rare type that truly inspire because they are real women who take the time to listen and share their true thoughts and feelings, as well as listen to their friends and not pass judgment. To you both, I say thank you and hope that you know that I am truly lucky to know you both, and will treasure the times we share always and forever. And now, for those of you who have read thus far, I offer an homage to two truly remarkable girls.

Katie Kay: First of all, I admire your quiet patience. You have the solid foundation that often seems lacking in people walking this earth. You've got a good head on you're shoulders, but still manage to keep a tender heart (not an easy task) and gentle manner. And yet, you know when it's time for fun and games. You have a wonderful imagination and constantly keep us guessing. You're smart and funny, a dangerous combination, your dry sense of wit is a trademark that will last through the ages. I admire your honesty and candor as you shared yourself with us. You are generous and kind, qualities that give you a beauty that radiates from within. Your patience in matters of the heart is something to be proud of, and I envy you for such a quality.

Annabelle: To quote Poe (from his own Annabelle Lee),"And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me." You're views on love and life are grand enough to turn anyone into a hopeless romantic. You are upbeat and wonderful, crazy and hopeful. Your wonder and creativity are inspiring, traits not found often enough in the indifferent world surrounding us. You are honest and supportive, and express only your true feeling and emotions. You are fun (there's no better way to say it!) and time spent with you is precious indeed. You always make me laugh and are supportive of everyone you know in practically every way you can be. Anyone who knows you finds you endearing and charming, and you are a presence to be admired. You have a wild streak that loves to play along, but also a serious side that yearns to protect. You are sweet and compassionate, as well as possessing a confidence that adds to your infinite beauty.

As I said before, both of these ladies are ones I hold dear in my heart and thoughts. They are both fantastic examples of the human species, and yet they will downplay it or laugh it off with a self-deprecating joke if you told them so. I feel truly blessed and honored to call you both my friends, and wished to share how I felt. I love that you both are honest and supportive, but most of all real. I know that this isn't the type of entry that was expected when we first established the guidelines for this journal, but what would great literature be if it wasn't based on the richest of non-fictional characters?
Current Mood: awakeawake
Current Music: computer humming
08 March 2006 @ 08:35 pm
Need for a cigarette was too much,
but what else did she know?
She walked out into the cold night air
and lit up, as if she did it every day of her life.

And driving by you’d have never known
it was her first,
never known she’d only watched people smoke for ages
but never actually tasted the nicotine
as it hit her throat.

Walking through the cold night air,
struggling to breathe through the ice,
and took the elevator up,

She took off her coat,
eyes meeting, saying they were sorry
as they listened to old poets through the speakers.

The old jazz
and the accent of new england
hits her every time like gin down the throat;
it's warm, it's new, It's like christmas,
and it warms her up just listening,
just listening
as she sits down sinking past the old worn couch
onto the floor.

They talk, they talk as if they knew
the poets, best friends, lovers, brothers-
As if their deaths were as painful as our best friends'.
And they sit, and they listen,
just listen
to the moan, to the groan,
to the pain of man.

Then as shadows fall onto the window,
and snow flurries past the door
he kisses her forehead causing
such a pain in her stomach;
She decides then that
now is the perfect time for something beautiful to die;
just so we'll miss it.

As they slept in that small bed,
she waited hours for him to let go,
and carefully removed herself,
and listened,
just listened,
and as the train rolled by on those tracks,
she opened the window and cut the screen,
praying the cold wouldn't reach him and wake him,
and just as he began to stir,
she looked back and apologized
for the truth,
and removed herself forever,
falling gracefully into the darkness.

I expanded on an earlier thing I'd written and posted, I think.
what do you think?