celebrity encounters

Así en la paz como en la guerra, cap. 8

And the wire cutters slipped and clipped the copper wire and the explosion lifted him and before crushing him against the wall it had already blown him open and other explosions followed the first and the deaf murmur went from the room and rolled through the house outside to the end of the street and when the firemen arrived it was necessary to chop down the door with an ax because it had been locked from within and in a cloud of smoke and dust they saw the bodies in pieces and the furniture in pieces and the clothing blown to shreds. Outside the clouds loomed dark and low, lightning flashed in the dark pink clouds, the pink clouds were a black darkness and they loomed low a dark portent, and smoke and dust billowed from the splintered door, the entire room was covered in blood, there was a silence and he remembered the kiss at center court in the rain in the park between their houses. He was 15 and she was 14 and they loved each other deeply and they kissed in the rain at center court a night the sky was overcast and pink and thunderheads boiled upward from the stratocumulus and it rained and they kissed, and his body ached, his body ached so powerfully and he ached .

there's yet time for another commemoration. turnstile diaries. last sentence here.

another version of the 3 sentence story

Taken to the nth degree my objections yet would seem understated. Fear of the blank page is only as consuming as the abyss when unconfronted. we stare on the brink into the dark depths, we dance in the air between the ghostly towers. we emerge victrious.

3 orange toast banners undid the lapse in refrigeration. like muscular, seeming insouicant, carriage toasts, unbeknownsts.

hapsburg, tel aviv, detroit rock city, motorola.

the endless tunnel,
the signpost to the endless tunnel,
giving directions to the signpost to the endless tunnnel,
removing all humor from giving directions to the signpost to the endless tunnel.
a painful automatic chore.

writing is responsibility.

but how lovely reigned in
spoken from the curve device

teach us how to speak english.

don't ever ask permission ever (internet persona)

don't you ask permission now
the endless squadron deflates any notion
while spider webs draw blue prints
to spider's shakral aura or
spider's shakral perception of your's.

the tabatha retreats to indolence
smelling the palabra like
eating a chimp's foot.

remake your Dictionary of Received Ideas
Flaubert may never have been born come morning.

variations of beauty and the beast

upon viewing Jean Cocteau's wonderful version from 1946...

1. switch the masculine and feminine roles - the beast is a woman who wants the mother's beautiful son to marry her... what would this feminist version reveal to us about our inherited gender attitudes...

2. the beast kills the beauty immediately upon arrival in the castle. he asks her why she's come, she explains to save her father, that she feels responsible and that her love for him binds her to... he snuffs her out, he cannot stand that such pure goodness exists in the world. From here the narrative must take a completely different turn - the beast is not goodness disguised in a horrible facade, he is truly evil.

3. The scene where the beast says "you pet my head as if I were an animal" (I am paraphrasing) and Belle replies "but you are a beast"... our protagonist sits on the couch watching this scene with his housemates cat in his lap, petting it gently, the cat stares him directly in the eyes, purs, expands, borders on mythic. we clearly see the wide brush of his whiskers.

4. "your goodness will cost you dearly, Belle" beautiful