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Im an alien my death will be insignificant and lost. It all occurred to me while walking this dull path down South Beach in the middle of the night wandering through an endless sea of would-be Rico Suaves and pop-whores, each more empty than the next. I reached out for Shellys hand, only to have her pull it away Is that bad?
Yes.
And now...
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VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
punkinhead:
Merry Christmas!

HOpe all is well --

take it light,

ph
punkinhead:
Aw Steve your making me all mushy!

You are the man, no doubt.

Found that mountain yet?

Be well,

ph
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Back from Tallly.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
punkinhead:
Wheres the love, Steve?

be well,

ph
chris_sick:
man, you're missed.

check it:

the datsuns have a new album, "Outta Sight/Outta Mind" produced by none other than John Paul motherfucking Jones of Led Zepplin.

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Hurricane Frances Trivia:

How many times can I re-set every goddamn clock in the house in a two-hour period?

If you guessed "around 20" you're right.

I was afraid I wasn't gonna get to play this game anymore, but then I realized Hurricane Ivan should be here by next Friday. Hey uh -- That makes four hurricanes in three weeks -- We have more hurricanes...
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burstandbloom:
i know i havent seen you contribute to the writers group in a while
i was trying to goad you into it

and wondering if membership should get cleaned out
?
hotpockets:
Pulled from SomethingAwful.com

Take care man
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A quick flicker of the image and then theres shape Certainly the universe mustve been born on a hot night in the middle of summer just shortly after the advent of hot nights and summer a quick splash and then bam infinity intertwined with nothing in an unfathomably small foam awash with comings and goings at a rate faster than fast to the point where...
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chris_sick:
yeah, you didn't read the one i was referring to in my last post, but i'm glad you liked what you read. i keep going back to the idea of clocks because at my new job(which i like) we have clocks on every wall and if you're doing one of the more tedious jobs you start to notice that every five minutes you're looking at the clock literally. in an eight shift i don't even want to think about how many times i look at that fucking thing.

at one job a friend of mine wrote in magic marker on their wall clock "messiah". a strange egg, but a good one.
chris_sick:
heard about that'un. you need to write more, it will make you feel better. i'm a firm believer in "its never too late" but then again, i'm 23. the equation scares me. bukowski once wrote "think of how many times in your life you put on your underwear. horrible." and its true. the only blessing is we sleep- what is it a third? i think we sleep a third of our lives away. well most people. i apparently have forgotten how to be tired unless i'm at work.
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Summer is burning in the best way. The west is hot grit and shes rising to prominence in a scene of ill-repute. Her days are fashioned on waves of elegance and splendor like sea salt. There are sex-moans in the halls, sex-slaves on the walls trash-light neon on the lips of the capitol and theyre all dragging her down like pills in the mouth of...
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chris_sick:
yeah, man, you can't chicken out like that. you can't just say "brillant... moving on." where was yours? you should've just posted that journal piece. it has a drum beat in it like something... i don't know what i'd call it, somehow those words sit on my brain and fall into a natrual rhythm, something like... a ramones song, maybe? a very simple natrual rythm that can't be faked. you know what? i think- possibly because i've been listening to them all day- the beat reminds me the most of the white stripes' "the hardest button to button" just that duh-duh-duh-duh-duh. that driving force works so well in your writing. its weird if you want to create memorable lines you can't look at it in a visually aesthtic way you have to think of how it will sound in the head of the person reading it, make it sound memorable and as weird as it is, it reads memorable. good stuff. post something to the writers thread, or you die. and fucking submit me something soon, bastard.
chris_sick:
best of luck.
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Theres a weird clear sheen on reality just before sunset and I swear I think its probably god or probably good or probably something of some kind of importance. I noticed it there on the water at the lake when the reflected sky had made that final push past late-afternoon orange-glimmer. There were ducks to my right wandering or maybe meandering or whatever it is...
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chris_sick:
I think, in that case, then, it would work better spoken. I know that what you bring to the table as a reader isn't always what the writer thought you would, or intended. However, I still think that a good piece is multi-functional, working on many levels, at least I hope so. And I never called it bad. Really, I didn't. I just said it wasn't what I expect from you. I've seen good things, really good things and just wish I could see more of them. This just didn't work for me. That's all. My internet was down tonight when I got home and it made me write ten pages before my computer started fucking up and had to be restarted, not its back up and I probably won't write another damn word tonight. Too many distractions for all of us. I like your line, really. I'm going back and skimming it and I'm reminded of my friend Mikhal, who one day snapped at me "why don't you like anything I write?" At which point I had to explain to him that I love everything he wrote, that's why I was so hard on him to do better. I love your line, but fucking work that craft, man, perfect it, you have the heart and talent for it. So. Yeah. Coffee and cigarettes all night and Detroit Cobras on the stereo get me all fired up. Wed. night is Rev. Horton Heat and Detroit Cobras. I'm all fired up for that. Glad your back, don't take me too harshly, or too seriously, man. Sleep good.
punkinhead:
I get pissed thinking of you saying you didn't know if you were a writer or not.

Find that mountain!

great journal

take it light,

ph
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What is the allure of the past that the present and future cant compete with? My head is all past tonight just a non-ending repetition of 96, 97, 98, 99, over and over again running that crazy loop clean into infinity. Theres a girl holding a constant place beside me. The night is hot. The night is cold. The night is always blurry and looks...
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drknievel:
Wow, pure poetry in prose form. You don't even need to tell a story but it reads like a novel. That's the way I try to write fiction. surreal
captknutz:
I like it , better than anything I've ever done by far, reminds me of henry miller, but not skull
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Its a slow hot night in a good way. Theres the sound of a film projector soft-clicking it might be on the stereo or in my head or on the stereo in my head either way, Im pretty sure its there (or not). Ive come to the recent realization that someones haunting me. Shes hiding behind every corner. Shes looking over my shoulder. Shes whispering...
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captknutz:
howdy, sent ya the rest of the third chapter finally. Finally got a female perspective on the first chapter at least. She said 1. it made her angry and a little depressing at the same time and 2. that she thinks it would be best adapted as a screen play. skull
chandrajudithann:
Very nice...keep writing...I'm interested. smile
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Wow, you guys are so nice! Thanks everybody.

smile
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chris_sick:
heads up: FAQ got send. if you didn't get it and wanted to lemme know. if you got it and didn't want it lemme know.
chris_sick:
it was sort of like a warm up for a story i was working on, but i got distracted and didn't finish the story. oh yeah, i should have my zine finished by the end of this month, tho.