But what an inspired rhyming couplet.
Ja Rule doesn't exist anymore, does he? Ashanti wouldn't even look at him now.
you're right Ollie.
i don't think he's been around for a good year in the public eye.
What does Mr. Rule look like? Who allowed him out of the house looking like that?
youve disgraced yourself with crypto-fascist ravings over the last 5 years, i could hardly do anymore damage. im trying to restore your reputation as a sosphiticate and man of letters.
i'll prbably stick some soppy bits in too like this
Let me tell of memories, back a thousand lifetimes, or maybe many more.
I have so many memories. The world around me fades as eyes turn inward.
I have no name. No mother, no father. I am neither male nor female, young nor old.
Time has come to a complete halt. Itís shape now visible in its entirity.
If I say to you
Terror, and exhileration, in equal measure
I think you will know what I mean.
The shining city is built, in the bosum of green hills. O! Happy City. Star trails in swirling night.
River with voice of laughing infants, tumbles down dale to heedlessly split the town in twain.
The wound is sutured with bridges, which leap gracefully over the river at regular intervals. Bone bridges of ivory. Bridges of spidery steel or silent white marble.
On hot summer days children press cheeks against the cool marble pylons.
Run through reeds in the shallows. Eels flit past tiny ankles. Herons watch over them with parental indulgence. An amused, loving concern.
Sky of swifts and swallows. Many fine old trees. The oldest trees are the towns most prominent and respected citizens. There is much sadness when one dies. A thousand years of continuity is broken and the limbs which were home to generations of birds and climbing children, are fallen on by woodlice and other creatures of rotten wood, warm rich decay.
The men are laughing in the taverns. There are people in the squares, reading, talking and ruminating, under the shade of birch and poplar.
You also walked its wide boulevards, in the afternoon sun, with all the other promenaders.
I remember you with fondness.Your smile. Your easy gait. You donít remember I know. It was too long ago, and such perfect happiness, hardly seems creditable now. But humour me, as I reminisce.
You loved Verlaine and recited his poems to me, by the river, in the long grass.
ĎLes fluers des eaux referment leurs corolles,
Des peupliers profilent aux lointains,
Droits et serres, leurs spectres incertains;
Vers les buissons errent les lucioles;í
and though I speak no French, I was moved to tears of joy. The heart swollen with giddy love. Your face was so responsive, so alive and untroubled. It registered everything which passed over it, every emotion and idea, every change in temperature, cloud covering and uncovering benevolent sun, every tendril of the delicious breeze
I remember distinctly just how wide your eyes opened. How sensuously you drew breath, how your features would melt into bliss, just momentarily, on the in-breath.
I recited long lines of Whitman, prayers of Rilke. It was that kind of day. The sun was shining, the world was young and fecund. You didnít realise, did you, just how wholeheartedly life can be loved?
the hard carapace of bone dissolves, sharp intake of breath as pleasures multiply.
insistent. singing in the cells. joy ruptures bone carapace. self melts, spine arches, head thrown backÖ.
you have to get sentimental sometimes. demonstrates emotional depth y'see...
You can even see his pants, tee hee!
Originally Posted by craner
Luka, I know we can get your fantasy novel out there when it's done.
We just need to fabricate a good sales pitchy pull quote or glowing review from someone already famous in the genre, and paste it everywhere online. It would also help to create internet hype by having the right bloggers promote it and talk about how prescient/timely it is. Fantasy novel readers love the internet.
Are you looking for an agent? If I can sell a loperamide program to J&J, I can sell a fantasy novel to anyone.
Ashanti is dating Nelly, btw.
Speaking of r&b artists whose careers are undead...
I'm writing a thing about time travel for a Canadian art fanzine at the moment; it's about the time I saw a picture of myself dancing with Jayne Mansfield (true).
Any time travel anecdotes or stories would be good. I'm not going to use them, it'd just be nice to read other people's experiences of time travel. If there are any...
Lol. Being a person of rather short stature, my eyes were kinda perpendicular to, umm, her. I looked like I was having an amaaaaazing time. Obviously this was before she had lost her head. Dancing with a headless Jayne would be too much, even for proto-time-travellers like myself I fear.
Originally Posted by jambo
If someone released an album featuring a photoshopped cover image of mistersloane dancing with a headless Jane Mansfield, I think that would probably be the best thing ever.
ok nomad you're on board, you get 20% if you write a couple of chapters for me.
This could get nice and psychotic...
Originally Posted by luka
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