Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Visit Denver

Check the Molly Brown House. Enjoy the Mountains where you can hike, swim, jog, and play golf. Also be sure to visit our most treasured historic landmark, a symbol of Mile High pride, the 7-11 located at York and Colfax.

For more info check
www.seven-elevendytwelven.blogspot.whydidyoupunchmeinmyfu*kingface.com

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Frightful Visions-Fearful Shadows, 1st installment

A gray mist had settled on the lower section of Manhattan as Daniel closed his Power Book and looked at the clock. 3:00 AM. Why did he decide to take the Tanaka account? To reach his clients, it was required that he stay up late, to reach them early in the morning. Tonight he was care free as they bought his bid to redo the line of shin enhancing lotion cream drink. His associates shut the lights and moved to an after hours joint on Rector. It was 4:30 when Daniel made his way to the W station. The offer was given for a cab to be split, but Daniel was nursing his last Harps in the jon and had missed them. He saw them drive away and he was left alone. The air was thick with silence. For downtown to be so loud and clamorous during working hours, after they all had gone, the decible level was excrutiatingly low. All he heard was his Rockports shuffling the loose gravel, and his liquor heavy breath struggling to maintain respiration.

He trained his eyes on the two globes glowing red at the top of the stairs. His legs were swollen as they bent, to lower himself down into the station. He could hear a train coming to a stop and he quickened his pace. He jiggled his keys around the mess of napkins and dollar bills to find his fare card. He had to swipe the card twice, and bruised his left thigh on the turnstile. He had missed the train. He peered down the tunnel and saw the two red lights on the last car slide uptown. He caught a glimpse of the tracks. He started to lean in, and stare.

Was it true what they said about the third rail? Swaying back and forth, he imagined himself falling on the grease stained metal. A crack from his ribs had knocked the wind out of him. A train quickly approached. First his fingers were split from his hand, then his thorax burst open as he was repeatedly struck by the wheels. He was divorced from pain as his brain trickled out of his ears, along with all ability to feel. Darkness surrounded him.
He got a grip and fell back on to the wall. He was sweating profusely. He had not fallen on the tracks, but his feet had a tingling in them, similar to the feeling of peering down from great heights.

His head swaying, he issued a Camel from his coat pocket and lit it. Absolutley no one to be seen. He felt a slight breeze coming from one of the tunnels, so he thought some train would be coming soon. He took a deep pull off of the cigarette, and exhaled imagining a bygone year, where a man could smoke where and when he wanted to. Just then he heard a plastic bottle slide across the platform on the downtown side. He looked and saw no one. He blinked very slowly and tilt his head. His eyes began to swivle in their sockets as he raised the Camel up again. The blue smoke burnt his eyes and he put his hand up to squeeze them. He opened them as a tear formed and saw something moving.

Not sure what it was, he smashed the smoke into the ground and threw it into the pit, where the tracks were laid. He stood up and brushed his pants off. There, across the platform was a man. He was of normal height, and a solid build that bordered on stout. His glossy visage had composure and he seemed to have purpose. His face was not the issue. This man was wearing nothing but a grease stained t-shirt. His testicles were dangling like a hairy broken muffler beneath his undercarriage. No shoes, no watch, no hat. Just a large t-shirt. The man began to laugh, then he farted. Daniel's brow came to a crunch in the middle of his face. He bent forward to begin purging himself. He lost balance and fell head first onto the tracks. He rolled over to pick himself up but lost control of his hand. It slipped on something and his chin came crunching down on metal. Daniel was dazed, lost in a swril. He looked up and saw the man.

The t-shirt with man inside begun to lower itself onto the tracks. He crawled delicatley over the tracks onto the side where Daniel was. On all fours he began to go through Daniels pockets. Just then they both looked up. The W. The man lept out of the tracks, as a piercing screech blazed from the oncoming train. Daniel rolled over once again. He had never seen such a frightful vision, such a fearful shadow.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

The Gladys Update

{Part 2 of Lewmont Alec DeMarq's guest-blogging.}

Shortly after my last post, and in an emotionally blinding blitz, I tried, for the second time, to power up Gladys.

At first things appeared fine, harmless, trivial. In the splinter of a second, I considered my pain forgotten, my isolation erased, and my inner-fortune returning.

Then, that all changed just as quick.

My PX-2500’s, or Gladys’, movements became jerky, haphazard. The visor shot up into its PVC dome to reveal two naked camera eyes, slapdashing back and forth, panicked. A metallic whine pealed from the droid and filled the room, causing me to cringe. Its hands shot up and covered the ear-mounds as if trying to keep something from spilling out… Perfectly against my wildest imagination, unanticipatedly, and much to my own horror, Gladys then proceeded to twist and rip its head clean off.

I witnessed a suicide; my own creation’s self-propelled euthanasia.

My psychological state has been awash for hours. I cleaned up my latest mess feeling a heavy hollow in my ribs, empty, utterly alveolate. I had to let open my windows hoping the stinging redolence of singed plastic would dissipate. I was breathing in the remains of my happiness, the last traces of what might have fixed me. I sobbed uncontrollably.

Once I regained and composed myself, I began to write my post for this site. In all honesty, I cannot tell you why; it just felt right. I then found a comment on my last post from the wise, the charismatic, the undaunted Jonald. He was, in fact, the flicker of encouragement that brought my self-confidence to such heights I felt fastened to the idea of sharing a bit of myself (other then snow globes) with this world. He lived across the hall from me during my freshman year at Yale. Jonald was just as lonely as I was, but his impelling mind was put to good use; Jonald created the modern-day weblog, or blog, to deal with his companionless excuse for a life.

In my lugubrious mind frame, the message he left me was inspiring, helpful, and very much needed. Thorough his kind words I’ve found that I don’t need a robot to discover love and companionship. All I need is a blog and fellow bloggers, because even virtual concernment is still concernment. And that is, if even the only thing, what I consider to lack. It is good to know those with the similar interests can heal even the worst of maladies.


So I thank you, again, Jonald, and bloggers everywhere. You all have the ability to make me feel loved. A truely treasured sentiment by yours truly. Expect in the forthcoming months a blog of my own, complete with clever name and graphics. Much thanks to elevendy twelven for not only introducing me to their one (1) reader, but showing me the power of the blog. How the possibility of someone reading my inner-most thoughts (and maybe even caring about them!) can partially fill the very void Gladys was designed to occupy. But how slippery a possibility can be! Yet I grasp with vim and vigor.

Please pray for me.

Until then…a gracious good-bye.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Dans ma vie

{The following post is the first of two installments from guest-blogger Lewmont Alec DeMarq. His forthcoming novel, Snow Globes filled with the Tears of Children, due out this winter, is a blinding bildungsroman tale that traces DeMarq's life from the slums of Flagstaff, AZ to his Ivy League education to his discovery of-- and ultimate success because of--Smooth Banishment, the cologne that changed the fragrance game. Please enjoy.}

My hands smell like science, my eyes burn with pride. Soon the residuum of my labors will come to fruition. After many a night slaving over my drafting table with protractor and pencil in hand, I am a few clockwise turns to the right from having a new companion.

True, I revel in a snow globe or thirty, but, alas, these traits, this dedication to a glassed, permanent winter paused behind swirling confetti, afford me very little conviviality. Yes, I've tried those flagitious, malevolent substances that rob individuals of their youth and luster by way of injection or inhalation; sadly, attempts to escape my acute forlornness were mainly by way of illegal drugs. But I learned fairly quickly, that my extreme dissolution would only return twenty fold each and every time the serpentine effect wore away.

Swerving in and out of my cold, dead, hebetudinous labyrinth, I tried to focus my attention on globes, pour my passion into plastic skylines, the properly-angled jiggling of knickknacks, and the subtle twinkling of synthetic snow. But even they couldn't change the barefaced fact that most nights the Food Network was what lulled me to sleep instead of a caring, caressing hand tracing trails on my cheek. I would awake in starts and fits, only to have reality wash itself back into my eyes and my mind: I am alone.

It is not advantageous for an intellect such as my own to be devoid of conversation or stimulation. I need to discuss the problem with the
deli isle or how six inches do make a difference or how good my air tastes. Oh how these things tear at my very core!

As the cliché goes, Desperate Measures for Desperate Times, and I have taken it upon myself to dramatically improve my situation. I give you my new roommate, the PX-2500, or Gladys, for short:

Here, as you can see, I'm running the performance program. The Fugal Horn creates the most tranquil, unflappable intonation, in my opinion. The ceremony pictured here was not perfect-- some notes flat, others ear-bleedingly sharp--but showed immense promise.

I will post more pictures when it is complete, maybe even video. But please join me in wishing Gladys success. My life, as I know it, needs this.

Thank you.