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new and original fiction  rtr (This is my myspace blog imported on here- Some editing of this will occur as I get rid of crap like announcements- bear with me for now - this message will be removed shortly) Friday, December 08, 2006 iamwidescreen In a manner of speaking: A new beginning The fluidity of meaning dictates one thing relating to another in a specific manner. Words become associative properties, coding ideas, uncoding feelings. Phrases become something different when viewed through a different lens. This is my life, my place, my words. This is something different than what somebody else has to say, something other than what else has been or will be written. This is me, right now, writing to you out there, to myself and to people I don't even know. This is for those of you who care, who don't care and those of you who are wondering what this is and where it's going. I am a work in progress, I am widescreen in my intentions and projections. I could spend hours writing elaborate descriptions and ideas of who I am but this right now, is who I am: words on your screen. Part of my widescreen idea is the notion of having part of my life out there like a reality tv show for people to look at, comment on and participate in. This is my writing practice, my confessional, my priest, my rabbi, my celebration of words, pepole, ideas, things and whatever else I put on here because it's in my idea-space at the time. Right now, Iamwidescreen and I thank you for reading and hope you drop in here time to time ahead to see what's going on. 10:19 AM - 0 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Wednesday, November 29, 2006 Three little incidents... one Delaney stared at the crumpled piece of paper for what seemed like hours. It sat there in the thick green glass ashtray daring him to open it up and find out if his sick deep suspicions were true. He felt trapped. Christ, he really didn't want to find a contact name on the inside of that scrunched up ball with a meeting place and time. If he did, he knew what he would have to do. There was no other choice. He had made the rules. Now he was bound by them.. He reached for the paper with a heavy heart. two K shook the man's hand and spoke in a near-whisper. The other man smiled briefly and professionally before handing over the de rigeur platinum spring-locked briefcase. K handed him the tiny booklet which the man flicked through before his eyes fixed on one page and a smile lit up his dark features. He looked back at K and shook his hand before walking away into the distance. K satarted to shiver uncontrollably. This was it. He had done it. Now, he had no way back. three Johnny answered on the first ring. The sound of Delaney's voice woke him right the fuck up. 'So it's confirmed?' came the question/statement. Johnny scrabbled sleep out of his eyes and replied that it was indeed confirmed. He could almost hear Delaney nod over the line. 'Then you know what we got to do. Get the 'P' boys together and initiate 'Prodigal Son' . Johnny took a deep nervous breath. 'Yes sir. ' Delaney had hung up. Johnny hung his head in shame. Another Prodigal Son. Christ. This was bad. This was beyond bad. 12:13 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Wednesday, November 22, 2006 WHAT ARE YOU THANKFUL FOR? Yes, bastard children of a goat god who drips blood all year long. It's that time of year again. Oh Thanksgiving, the most fuck-diculous holiday that was ever dreamed up. Regardless of it's tangled and messed up history involving natives, pilgrims, pregrant natives, pilgrims on the rampage, we now have a holiday where we are all thankful, eat a lot of food, watch football and belch. God, it's so white. So, here is my list of 14 things I am thankful for. 1) Taco bell hot sauce- if you're going to have the shits why not do it in style. 2) Johnny Depp's (common law) wife, the lovely and talented Vanessa Paradis- what a woman. 3) Mark Millar- I don't care what y'all say, I'm loving 'Civil War' 4) Thankful that I am aging well 5) For women, period. 6) Mp3 players- revolutionised music in so many ways. 7) Torchwood- good show on it's way to being great 8) Russell T Davies- genius at work. 9) Friends who actually give a shit 10) good hair 11) honest genuine people 12) bacon 13) cake 14) crap holidays with loads of food 10:38 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Saturday, November 11, 2006 ENDROT updates ENDROT proceeds apace with 'Rape Camp' ( the country years) being in development which will include acoustic versions of (at least) the following 1) 'Just another girl who gave up at age 19' 2) 'Small-Town Sinners' 3) 'Gothic prom queen in a small country town' 4) 'Lady of Bosnia' ENDROT or Electric Neil Diamond Robotic Operating Theater is always accepting or at least willing to look at all and any contributions of an artistic nature. Rape Camp is not. 4:07 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Wednesday, November 08, 2006 no dancing please, we're baptist So, I'm talking to the beautfiul Lauren, who has for her meager sins, ended up in the stinky baptist ridden town of Waco. Which makes me ponder why so many of the baptists are so bloody negative. It's all don't do this don't do that, don't look at Kevin Bacon swivelling his filthy hypnotic hips, and don't drink or you'll go straight to hell. Jesus wasn't this negative. So why are the bop-tists? I mean, Jesus wasn't just not against drink, the legendary hippy went so far as to MAKE drink at the Caanan wedding. House Jesus Red no less! And dancing? Somebody stop me! One elderly lady remarked that if John Travolta had been around in the New Testament days, that Jesus would have rendered him irrelevant. So how do those grumpy fucks regulate this no dancing nonsense? 'You there, stop dancing' 'Who? Me? I wasn't dancing, I was getting up from my table and taking my tray' ' No you weren't little miss hop skip and a jump' ' Uhmm, yes I was, I was getting up and standing' 'oh' 'are we done here? 'Maybe, but I still think you were attempting to dance' 'that's ridiculous' 'well, it was a very animated leap up from your seat' 'not really' 'well, by my standards and my wife's standards it was' 11:08 AM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Tuesday, October 24, 2006 JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE FIGHTS TRAGIC ROBOT OPPONENT Part four: 'The heart of the beast' PREVIOUSLY ON 'GENESIS OF A TRAGEDY' ROBOT SIX discovers that he was previously one of the original members of the super-smash boyband 'NKOTB' code-name JORDAN KNIGHT and had been created by a rogue Japanese scientist, Nihiro Takashuta who sold the rights to COLUMBIA Records black ops division 'The Cellar' who programmed a number of robots to be boybands. When NKOTB ceased turning a profit, the cellar decommed them and reprogrammed them as first govt, assassins for use in Sarajevo and Latin America and then as sensations THE BACKSTREET BOYS and NSYNC (why the two bands were never seen together). After decomming them again, Robot Six is awoken by a faulty alarm circuit and escapes from the lab they were stored in. Eventually finding out the truth, he goes insane and takes a mall full of hostages. The cellar has no other recourse but to call on International Recording artist and super-judo expert, Justin Timberlake to take him in, dead or alive. Justin isn't very happy with this arrangement but he agrees to do it as his mom is one of the kidnapped in the mall. Now. read on. colin: that would be a good story actually colin: one of them escapes and goes insane colin: and they have to hire Justin Timberlake to track him down colin: before he blows up a mall full of people colin: a final confrontation scene between a wounded and exhausted Justin colin: and ROBOT SIX colin: with MAll sprinklers going off colin: robot mascara running down his face like engine oil tears colin: 'Give it up, man, It's over' Justin said colin: Robot Six turned and fixed him with a burning stare colin: the sadness in his eyes was a phsyical thing Livy Girl: ur freakiin me out man colin: 'Not for me it isn't' colin: 'It can never be over as long as they use US to make their soul-less music product' colin: Justin twitched with the shoulder bullet shot wound colin: 'Don't ' he started but Robot six had already put the gun to his temple 9:52 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Monday, September 25, 2006 danity, after breakfast Danity even swore daintily. She said "fuck" under her breath as only a r eal lady could and she knew it. She loved who she was and enjoyed being a girl. Pendulum swing moment, she thought, as she used the term that her grandmother had used all her life and her mother hated being applied to anyone over the age of 19. Girl. Because she was and she would always be, like Granma Loulou, a lady, a girl, a femme to the end. She ditched the negative connotations, the weakness and the frilliness and instead imbued unto herself a Megan Mullaly level of arch-toughness and strength without the drunken shrillness or camp bitchy put-downs that Megan had so perfected on 'Will & Grace'. Danity just loved being pretty, being sparkly, wearing glitter and matching. Fuck the grubby dyke cliques and the plain jane floppy boobed no make-up brigade. They could fuck off to yawnsville for all she cared. Why not look good? It wasn't for anyone else 'cause this was her world. It may be a cliche but again, who cared? Danity like Donald Trump, or Donald as she liked to call him. The familiarity that only reality tv can bring had brought him closer to her, like Steve Irwin had been or like Emeril or Dr.Phil were. They were her 'almost-friends', like invisible mascara, close but not quite there. She liked Donald's outlook on things and the way he flaunted his riches because that's what the little guy supposedly liked to see. That's how she approached her prettiness. She curled her hair at the sides and primped her bangs and wore her cutest little tiny top because of the ugly chicks out there who couldn't. God bless them all but Jesus, they needed to see some glamor in their sad serious sensible shoes wearing lives. 3:39 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Friday, September 22, 2006 i am electric jesus three: a history, a broken man and a vision (...and it was then, after the emergence from the desert of the current consciousness of the new messiah with Christmas tree lights that things began to happen in rapid succession. The foundation stone of the building that was to become so important to the cult of the future and the hope for salvation of all creatures except for newts were laid overnight by mysterious tiny thin men who wore white jumpsuits and all had afros of different colours. Shortly after this, the newness of the sacred mysteries was established by a blind nun and a starved dog at the side of the road where a kfc restaurant that only served chicken to spanish speaking people had recently closed it's doors. But before then, came the naming by the cliff...) The Lord of the lawn and the prophet of the pessimistic as he would be known by some cults in the Southern USA stood and faced the motley crew gathered before him. He smiled at them and the lights surrounding his body glowed that tiny bit brighter. He held his staff up so that the hook nub on it's harpoon like tip shone a bluetooth blue light on them. "Let the naming begin", he said and it did. "The twelve gathered before me are hereby re-pronounced as my disciples and they shall be henceforth known as my disciples or those guys who hang around with that guy who kinda looks like someone famous like from tv or something. Gareth son of Sandal shall now be called hugo. Herman jacobs will be in future referred to as bastard and bastard only. Yoga will officially now be called Yoga. The short boy with the stutter and the slight limp will be my crutch of morality and I dub him near/far. The young bearded man formerly known as Fred will heretofore be referred to as gifted. The one called Vernon will now be Cartwright II. The tall youth of confused sexual orientation who wears lipstick at night and whispers Judy Garland quotes will be simply known as Nevermore. My friend here is now Reach. And the last four, collectively known as 'thedisciples who didn't really do a whole lot besides ask questions of the important and relevant first eight guys will be called End-Leigh, Michael, Thorough and Spark. " Then the Lord took a swig of Lucozade and held the bottle up briefly, grinning, as if in the act of some kind of cosmic product placement. It was at that point that he ushered Bastard over and gave him a pile of small center stapled leaflets with colourful illustrations of dancing dark skinned people in bright clothes on the cover. Bastard nodded and distributed them to the disciples who fell upon them with eagerness and began to read. And the amazing thing was that even though all of the books were the same front and back cover-wise, the insides were slightly different for each and every one. Also, Hugo swore that the books had not been there until the electric Lord reached for the pile of them beside him. And the first part of each book roughly said the following. "A broken man: Once I was an electrician named Frederick Farmington and I worked pretty consistently, drank quite a bit and dated two sisters on a rotating basis. I was your average man, I enjoyed tv and mexican food and that was pretty much it. Until that fateful saturday when I was in the middle of re-wiring a bar that was being remodelled and I touched a live-wire by accident. It should have killed me. It did kill me. But to me, it just slowed everything down. And that's when I saw him, the original analogue Jesus. He was sitting there in a chair that had been empty previously. He was looking at me. I looked at him and looked around. "Yes, the wire was live and yes you are quite dead". I nodded my head and waited for something else. So did he. Shit, awkward silence. Then Jesus said to me that he was in a hurry and he had appointments or something and he gave me a piece of paper that made my head hurt to read as the letters kept swimming off the page. "Oh for....Sake.." he said and he just started talking. "The world needs a new spiritual advisor and someone to help wash away the sins..oh okay...it's really about cosmic balance...ahh...no...look, we need to try something here and you are in a position to make a difference? Okay? " I shuffled my feet, looked at the floor and felt strangely like grinning. He stared at me with those rivet-bolt eyes. I stopped wanting to grin and started to nod. He handed me a bunch of christmas tree lights and shook my hand. "Good luck with the Sinai Corporation", said Analogue Jesus to me and then he was gone and I was in the desert. I waited until my beard had grown and then I donned my robes, sandals and the virtually sentient Christmas tree lights. The Staff I found in mid-air, spinning around, like an energy power-up in a zelda game. TO BE CONTINUED 10:39 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Tuesday, September 19, 2006 i am electric jesus: the special edition and it was written that in the beginning there was an archaic form of communication known as MySpace and it was not all notable except that it was here the first words of the future Lord appeared. and it was deemed that after a few pieces of introductory writing, that the future Lord and maker of all things plugged in would gradually reveal more of his presence and his mission on this Earth and why he came to enlighten our days and grace our nights with his gently buzzing love. Oh Electric Jesus. Oh special edition containing episodes i, ii with incredibly different and important extra bits. now read on i am electric jesus (special edition) one: the unforgiving sky Bastard saw him first. He shouted at his comrades. "I found him, mates. Look! There he is. The fucker is real!! He's real!!!" The boys arrived where he was standing making such a noise and they looked where he pointed. And they stared at what was revealed there. the apparation stood some 5'7'' tall dressed in white robes covered in what looked to them like christmas tree lights, all lit up, criss-crossing his skeletal thin frame. The man was middle-eastern in appearance with a beard offsetting his features and muddy brown eyes looking out at them as they watched. He stood beside a small emaciated looking goat with bright red eyes and antennae coming out of it's forehead, He wore a tool-blet, much-used by it's appearance and carried a small nintendo gamecube sized box that was gift-wrapped. In his left hand he carried a large steel staff, somewhat resembling a water-damaged steel harpoon with a tiny hook at the top. Then he put his arms out and they sensed movement. He seemed to appear closer to them rather than actually moving. His hands were claymation changing positions. They stood transfixed as he stop-motioned his body so he looked like he jerkily walked around them. The goat moved like a special effect in a guy ritchie movie, moving segments of itself into the brief stuttering future, a damien hirst piece at a time. The whisper was on the air as the sky darkened to a deep bleeding purple. "I am electric jesus" came the low thrum of thunder. "I am your messiah in bright colours" "I am the secret behind the shed." "And this is Goat" Again the jerky movement as the man shuffled around their crowd, his blinking lights glowing ever more fiercely. "I am electric jesus and you are my disciples." One of the boys started forward but the man who had just spoken held up his hand and cautioned him. "The mystery of the gift-wrapped box is the first of the nineteen sacred mysteries that will make up my legacy to mankind. These mysteries will make themselves known as time unfolds it's silky dress slit up the side. The gift-wrapped box is the first and it is the sacred mystery of knowing. The recipient will know it is for them and then I will know the name and face of the one who will betray me and cause my end. " The disciples made to make a fuss and protest but their new Lord held up the shabby steel staff of determination and they reeled back from it's majestic motliness. "All things have a beginning and an end. Not all things have a middle, but I intend to at least fill out some of the bits in-between my arrival and my oh so tragic departure. But this is the way things have to be for this is destiny kicking a soccer ball into the goal in the last second of the match of all time" two: sheltering sea (special edition edit) The boys followed him for miles without a sound until they finally reached the cliffs overlooking the dark sea along the coast. They were tired but far too fascinated by this magnetic creature who had descended into their midst and beguiled them all. The multi-colored robed man stood at the edge of the cliff for some time with his robot goat beside him, holding his slightly luminous staff beside him in the still kinetic air before finally turning to the crowd that followed him and smiled at them. Bastard looked over at Hoover who nodded. He felt it too. It was like slipping a warm sweater on over a freezing body, that sensation of displacement and flooding warmth as your body adjusted to the new state of being. There was silence until Killian spoke up in his trembling unsure voice. "What shall we call you? And uhmm, how shall we..you know...follow you or whatever you want us to do? " Yoga pushed Killian in disgust as the others prepared to mock their tiny high-pitched companion. But the fairy-lights covered would be messiah held his hand up and let the blue glow grow until it blotted out the sun above them. "Do not push one of the chosen ones. Not even a chosen one can push another chosen one. And you are all chosen ones. " Then he turned around and faced the sea which gently roared in the background. Yoga approached him. "uhmm, Electric Lord? What does that mean, we are the chosen ones? " The strange man double blinked and turned to him without turning. Facing him, the other touched Yoga's forehead with his staff. Yoga's skin lit up briefly with a tiny sigil like drawing of what seemed to be an upside down cow wearing a hat and then it was gone. "That is what I mean, he who was Yoga and now is Yoga part two." He turned to the disciples who will be named in another segment of the tracts that tell the legend of the future hope for manking. "This is where we will begin. This is is where we will first make our mark and this is where, a night some years from now, I shall be betrayed by the recipient of the first sacred mystery and my presence here shall be snuffed out like an everlasting candle that simply lost it's will to everlast. " Coming soon: parts iii, iv, v all the way up through part xii 11:18 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Sunday, September 17, 2006 i am electric jesus i am electric jesus two: sheltering sea The boys followed him for miles without a sound until they finally reached the cliffs overlooking the dark sea along the coast. They were tired but far too fascinated by this magnetic creature who had descended into their midst and beguiled them all. The multi-colored robed man stood at the edge of the cliff for some time before finally turning to the crowd that followed him and smiled at them. Bastard looked over at Hoover who nodded. He felt it too. It was like slipping a warm sweater on over a freezing body, that sensation of displacement and flooding warmth as your body adjusted to the new state of being. There was silence until Killian spoke up in his trembling unsure voice. 'What shall we call you? And uhmm, how shall we..you know...follow you or whatever you want us to do?' Yoga pushed Killian in disgust as the others prepared to mock their tiny high-pitched companion. But the fairy-lights covered would be messiah held his hand up and let the blue glow grow until it blotted out the sun above them. "Do not push one of the chosen ones. Not even a chosen one can push another chosen one. And you are all chosen ones. " Then he turned around and faced the sea which gently roared in the background. Yoga approached him. "uhmm, Electric Lord? What does that mean, we are the chosen ones? " The strange man double blinked and turned to him without turning. Facing him, the other touched Yoga's forehead with a burning finger-tip. Yoga's skin lit up briefly with a tiny sigil like drawing of what seemed to be an upside down cow wearing a hat and then it was gone. "That is what I mean, he who was Yoga and now is Yoga part two." TO BE CONTINUED (AGAIN) 8:24 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Saturday, September 16, 2006 I am electric jesus i am electric jesus one: the unforgiving sky Bastard saw him first. He shouted at his comrades. "I found him, mates. Look! There he is. The fucker is real!! He's real!!!" The boys arrived where he was standing making such a noise and they looked where he pointed. And they stared at what was revealed there. the apparation stood some 5'7'' tall dressed in white robes covered in what looked to them like christmas tree lights, all lit up, criss-crossing his skeletal thin frame. The man was middle-eastern in appearance with a beard offsetting his features and muddy brown eyes looking out at them as they watched. He seemed to appear closer to them rather than actually moving. His hands were claymation changing positions. They stood transfixed as he stop-motioned his body so he looked like he jerkily walked around them. The whisper was on the air as the sky darkened to a deep bleeding purple. 'I am electric jesus' came the low thrum of thunder. 'I am your messiah in bright colours' 'I am the secret behind the shed. ' Again the jerky movement as the man shuffled around their crowd, his b linking lights glowing ever more fiercely. 'I am electric jesus and you are my disciples.' TO BE CONTINUED 11:35 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Friday, September 15, 2006 encounter in a hotel room in vegas She fucked with a sadness that wasn't necessary. She was an older woman, well preserved and with perfect modern sexy hair. She would put girls half her age to shame. The curtains barely masked the three o'clock sunlight as we both lay there afterwards, caught in the awkwardness of post-coital silence with a stranger who had just shared your body. She looked so sad I had to say something. She just nodded and turned away, looking for the mate of the shoe in plain sight. I didn't bother following it up, remembering our conversation from the night before when we had both agreed to just do it and not make a big deal out of it. Was this modern romance? Pre-packaged guilt-free sexual encounters with someone you didn't know except by perfume, skin and hair color. Were flowers replaced with an oral contract to not care? Were shy glances at a drive-through now translated to avoidance of eye-contact and a clumsy series of yawns. She got up to use the bathroom and I hoped I could fall asleep before she came back and gathered her things. The hypocrisy of saying goodbye was one more artifice I didn't need. I awoke and she was gone, nothing left except the smell of her shampoo on the pillow, the faint impression of her body pressed against the ruffled sheets where she had lain. I looked sleepily at the door she had left through as a tv guide we had knocked to the floor the night before in our passionate entrance to the room. Tobey McGuire stared out at me. A light went on in my brain. I smiled. Fucking A. Spiderman was on. I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes time. Good deal. I got up to take a piss so as to be able to watch this modern masterpiece without interruption. The day was looking up after all. 1:33 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Monday, September 04, 2006 Labor day First, don't wear white after today? Okay? See, my GQ & Esquire training finally pays off- God, I rule so. Now the sadness of reading about Steve Irwin's death was intensified by also reading that his wife of 14 yrs was out hiking and was not reachable before the news broke so there is a good chance that she only just found out a few hours ago, long after the story of Steve's death at the hands of a stingray which stung him severely in the chest had hit the newspapers. A very sad end to a man who devoted his life to animals and whose existence was one of passionate interests and getting involved in things. I wrote a piece about Andre Agassi's last match yesterday in my main journal- http://thecolin1.livejournal.com It was a truly heroic spectacle like the incredible world series of a few years ago when Boston routed the Yankees. Fantastic. 11:43 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Thursday, August 31, 2006 incompetent bastards fucking spastics on pink bicycles! Can these myspace fuckheads get anything right? First the bastards are down when I actually needed to hear back from a work colleague who was returning to work as I move to another department (thank fuck) out of the toxic hell (thanks Robbie!) that is the copy center. Now it won't let me upload any semi-amusing pictures of amusing celebrities who i will pretend represent me in my main image! Oh bastard gods of incompetence, you are peeing down on myspace right now, apparently, you four-cocked lords of anti-wisdom. bow down bow down bow down 9:01 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove Tuesday, August 22, 2006 Short Jemima: Inside a moment Inside a moment by Colin D Fox (Short Jemima and all associated characters created by Colin D Fox) Jemima put her small hands around an enormous cup of coffee and cried. She didn't look out the beautiful bay windows to the enchanting winter snow scene outside. She didn't notice her mascara smeared and frozen halfway down her perfect features on her too white face. She didn't feel the warmth of the embers of the fire trying to throw what little warmth was left her way. She just remembered and thought about betrayal. Her life was gone. Kelly's beautiful cabin in the woods was just a fake facade around her, built to lend credence to this elaborate sham that no longer meant anything. She got off the phone the following evening and pushed the bowl of soup aside. It was barely touched. She curled her feet under her and sat in the soft inviting armchair which swallowed her tiny frame. Barely lit by the corner lamp, her face was shadowed and still. Her whole life was there in her thoughts. Growing up a premature baby, small girl, small teen, small woman. If not for her stunning beauty and perfect proportions, she wouldn't have even had the curiosity sex that so many fake sincere boys offered her in that lowered half whisper tone of 'confide in me because I will never hurt you' which went along with the upturned smile that so many girls just couldn't possibly resist. She fucked some of them out of pity for their apalling moves. It was easy for her to enjoy sex physically because of her size. Emotional attachment was a lot harder to attain due to her life spent dealing with liars and people who couldn't just come out and say 'God, you're really fucking small, aren't you?' but instead shifted and moved around the issue until their very avoidance became ten times more annoying. The old grandfather clock that housed Kelly's shotguns solemnly chimed the hour of four o'clock. Jemima kept coming back to her husband's face when Kelly and the mob bosses had shown up at their house. Her husband had turned to her with a look of astonishment frozen on his face, all the blood draining out of him. There. Frozen in shock before the little twist of anger and hatred distorted his entire face. She had thought of Edvard Munch's 'The Scream' bizarrely at that moment. When her husband realized that she was washing her hands of his cheating, lying, weak self and handing him over to the gangster who he had robbed and ran from.. The anger and horro on his face, the shame and burning fear. She wasn't his fucking punching bag. That's what had made up her mind. Nobody would pull her into that bullshit. All it took was one time. Ohbaby, flowers, apologies,make-up sex, then another moment a week later, ohbaby, flowers make-up sex, then a forgotten dinner or an off-color comment, a broken nose spilling blood, oh baby flowers... Not for her. He had his one shot and he took it. And she took hers. He was like a marionette whose strings had been slashed as the immacualtely dressed men led him away. The mob boss had been handsome, charming, deadly. She would have fucked him in other circumstances. The third night she sat there. She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. Christ she was bored. And she smiled. Boredom was the eternal twitch- the old fucker upper. She laughed in the room. She knew then that she was done. Her mind had had it's time, taken it's steps necessary to flush the toxic memories through it's system and here she was on the other side. That wonderful sexy feeling when sadness starts to become a memory, the dark underpinnings that had coated her like a splash from a passing vehicle were fading away. She tingled. "Kelly". His voice was always welcome. Even more now as his rich honestly sympathetic baritone filled her ear. Kelly genuinely cared. Kelly would do anything for his beautiful tiny friend. And he knew how to have sex. Not many guys did. She waited for him to stop talking. Then she told him what was on her mind. There was silence. Then he laughed uproariously. "Jesus, Jem. You don't waste much time, do you? " She didn't. And she told him so. And repeated her question. He paused, thinking. Then he came back to her with an affirmative to the request and a three to five business days for the piece to be acquired. "Fuck off. Three to five business days? What the fuck are you? A mail order catalogue. If you get it up here sooner, I'll wear the devil girl outfit.Just for you. And I'll put my hair up. Just that way I had it last time.Yeah. Mmmhmmm. That's what I thought. See you tomorrow morning then. " She hung up. She laughed. "Three to five business days my ass." She thought about the custom Desert Eagle Kelly was bringing over for her. The sexy feeling flooded over her all over again. 8:54 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove About | FAQ | Terms | Privacy | Safety Tips | Contact MySpace | Promote! | Advertise | MySpace Shop I plotted out a lot of stuff for the Shaman of North County Dublin project a while ago and went over it just now- Here are a few bits that may be of interest. (Joe talking to some south-side teenagers who caused the release of a mass murderer's spirit onto a suburban home and killed an entire family in the process) “Nihilistic little amateur-hour bastards. Trying to spread your misery at having had such a banal and inane D4 upbringing where nobody cared enough to even bother abusing you. Instead they forgot about you. You’re not even a Smiths song brought to life, you’re a fucking Britney Spears one. Piss off before I do something you’ll regret. “ Then a clip from 'The House of bleeding memories' where the past is trying to claim back the present through the depression of the terminally ill Mr.Burke. 2) the house of bleeding memories (‘Illness is a loss of power. You are born with a full compliment of personal energy- the spiritual equivalent of a nuclear bomb, actually. We all lose bits of our power as we go through life and face our daily trials and tribulations. But the key thing to remember is this. You can’t have your power taken away from you; you can only GIVE it away in one form or another. ' Here's one that just struck me the other day and I wanted to work it into something thought-provoking. ( Read more... ) Roman part one by colin d fox The woman walking alongside the good looking young man was a striking figure. At 45, she was still stunningly good looking, a vibrant natural tan and a short styled mix of jet black hair with white streaks lightly blended. Roman's mother smiled without artifice. She was happy to be alive and happy to be with Roman, the person who made the world worth living in. He was everything to her, always had been and they both knew it. It was no big deal. It was just the way things were and always had been. She had always treated him like a person, never talked down to him or let the usual family bullshit get in the way. She had said to him a few minutes ago," You know, Roman, I don't think I've ever loved anything or anyone as much as I love you." He had nodded, not in an arrogant way, just in the way that they both knew this and appreciated it. She knew he thought the world of her but nothing could compare with how she saw Roman, since the day he was born. "You're me, continued" ,she had told him on his eleventh birthday and he'd smiled. He was part of the most glamorous, sophisticated and classy person he knew. There were others who'd questioned the closeness of their relationship, implying some strange kind of incestuous bond. Roman had laughed. His mother had just shook her head. "They don't understand because it's beyond their level of understanding. People cage themselves in the same, the safe and refuse to look beyond these barriers because to do so would be to invite questioning every single thing that their comfortable life depended on." Roman never ever felt any distance or tension in her presence. He could always be himself when she was around. Valarie always had been there and always would be. That was just the way that it was. Sipping her coffee in the early morning sun, she remembered the worst day of her life. She had been working in the school just outside Blackrock back then and driving home when she had heard the news. All the blood had drained out of her face. She had listened and hung up on the policeman. There had been a bad car accident. Her husband Gerard had been out shopping with Roman and had hit an icy patch on the way home, spinning the car into a ditch, overturning the vehicle three times. Even now, ten years later, she could taste the steely dry water she had forced herself to drink as she drove to the hospital. "Please don't let it be Roman", kept flashing mantra-like through her mind, on a constant loop. As bad as it dounded at the time, and even now, she felt a faint fleeting shadow of guilt about Gerard. But that's how it was between her and her son; that's how it always had been. Gerard had died four hours later, in a hospital bed, surrounded by hiw wife and son and a few family friends who'd managed to get there. Valarie had been sad but she had held onto her son and thanked God that it hadn't been him. iwannabetimesthree by Colin D Fox Shadows stopped Kurt from crossing the deserted road. "Fuckness", came a voice from the shadows. Kurt twitched, electrical impulses jumping and diving like computer age salmon. "Old Man knuckles," he muttered unhappily. In one movement, Kurt had grabbed the small vial at his belt and opened the tiny bottle of clear liquid. A harsh high-pitched sound of warning came from the shadows. "Fuckness threatens us," said the as yet invisible presence. Kurt glanced both ways across the road. There was no way he could make it across safely. Knuckles had this side of town wrapped up. He cursed his luck. Since the info crash, the four released digital presences had completely taken over the city, murdering some niney four percent of the population. Knuckles and yYo were the worst of the new overlords. Outside authorities had gotten a taste of their determination when they had sent troops in two weeks after the crash. 500 troops crossed the town's border, all men. 30 troops returned as 100% biologically female. The digital creatures were re-writing reality. Okay, What I'm going to do first of all is to throw out a list of five chalenges and you can pick any of these and write a story or short piece based off of the challenge. Once your story contains the challenge's title, inherent meaning or has a character of that nature or a line of dialogue that matches it, it's acceptable. 1) four gay daleks. 2) roj blake gets a new spaceship made of lego. 3) yourself in a fanfic setting of choice. 4) "Oh crap, that was the last trans-dimensional Flutuator lead in the ship!!" 5) a plot element you have always wanted to see in dr.who but never have. Current mood:  crappy.Current music: anything by the dears. Roman part one by colin d fox The woman walking alongside the good looking young man was a striking figure. At 45, she was still stunningly good looking, a vibrant natural tan and a short styled mix of jet black hair with white streaks lightly blended. Roman's mother smiled without artifice. She was happy to be alive and happy to be with Roman, the person who made the world worth living in. He was everything to her, always had been and they both knew it. It was no big deal. It was just the way things were and always had been. She had always treated him like a person, never talked down to him or let the usual family bullshit get in the way. She had said to him a few minutes ago ' you know, roman, i don't think i've ever loved anything or anyone as much as i love you.' he had nodded, not in an arrogant way, just in the way that they both knew this and appreciated it. she knew he thought the world of her but nothing could compare with how she saw Roman, since the day he was born. ' you're me, continued' she had told him on his eleventh birthday and he'd smiled. He was part of the most glamorous, sophisticated and classy person he knew. there were others who'd questioned the closeness of their relationship, implying some strange kind of incestuous bond. Roman had laughed. His mother had just shook her head. ' they don't understand because it's beyond their level of understanding. People cage themselves in the same, the safe and refuse to look beyond these barriers because to do so would be to invite questioning every single thing that their comfortable life depended on. ' Here's the entire listing of my Notions series I finished earlier this year. Notions consists of 100 short short stories with mostly tiny titles. http://www.livejournal.com/users/thecol new fiction, original fiction; come pour out the madness that is lurking in the corners of your demented imaginations; join me in posting up new works of fiction- style and substance are up to you; i'm trying to make it as open as possible so all contributions and suggestions are welcome. Let everyone online who you know have the address and encourage them to post up theie refforts on here. |
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