Saturday, December 15, 2007
-After my third reading of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, realizing some of his plots had practical applications in my school and neighborhood.
-After realizing matches and bug spray might be boring separately, but...
-After that first accidental swear in front of Grandma.
-After the doctor fled the state, leaving me to learn I'd long since been incurable and inoperable.
-After I wore those jeans to school, the ones with the logo I tried to show off, that nobody noticed.
-After I realized that a close friend of two years was gay, and had been hitting on me all along.
-After that disturbed boy tried to strangle me to death in front of a laughing crowd.
-After two professors turned me down for classes without talking to me about my submissions, and a third talked down about every writer I liked, forcing the realization that there is someone in power who vehemently hates every little thing you could possibly like, no matter how trivial to their existence, or how important they are to yours.
-After I told that to one of my professors.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
It's a baseball diamond. The lights are solar powered, and with the flick of a switch can go from fluorescent to solar reproductive light. In the middle of any inning, they can reduce vampires to ash - ash that, if you believe the local stories, is used as the dust on the playing field.
The sprinklers, like every sprinkler in town, draw water from the local river, which runs behind the local church. The priest blesses it every morning, so the grass is slick with holy water.
The concrete of the dugouts is fifty feet deep, an unnecessary depth for such a construction. The reason? Immortals. You can't kill an immortal, but you can throw him in a pit and fill it with concrete. So if you believe the stories, there are some fifty immortal warriors under the stands, trapped forever in a soundless, airless, dark prison.
Two independent sources verified that the diamond is perfectly feng shui against evil magic, and if you look under the bases and benches, you'll find a lot of brand symbols for companies you've never heard of. That's because they aren't real companies, though their symbols are real - real holy symbols that nullify both black and white magic, rendering even the strongest magicians powerless if they're even within shouting distance of the ballpark. It keeps the neighboring high school safe (you wouldn't believe the anti-sasquatch stuff they've got in the chemistry lab). The baseball field is one of the town's most storied features, and one of the reasons there's never been a monster under a single bed.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Long after he was freed he bypassed the expensive practice of buying master-make weapons and just picking up whatever was available: a broken claymore, a fallen branch, a bow no one in Ulysses' house could string but that still really stung if he smacked you in the eye with it. He dueled one master of the katana by dual-wielding a salad fork and a really big rock.
His favorite weapon was a giant's speartip. It was five or six foote long, very thick and hard, a dwarf-make thing. It was flat and triangular, with a jagged point and a blade on either edge. About a foote thick, he could hide behind it when he was showered with arrows, doubling as a shield. He held it by the butt, the tab of metal below the spearhead where a giant would insert a shaft. Being human-sized, he never bought a shaft. He wielded it like a big, ornery horsekiller, though he applied it in less orthodox fashion, too, such as riding it like a sled down a hill into the enemy cavalry.
He only graduated to using fine, honorable weapons when his friends started to be embarrassed by his antics, and got him one for his birthday. Being a former slave, he didn't have a birthday, but they made one up as an excuse to make him throw that damned thing away.
-Intro to Cloud Gazing
-Traditional Bread Crumb Reading
-Egg-Nog Smithery (belt sanders required; on sale in bookstore)
-Advanced Tree Re-Fueling
-Non-Linear Elephant Discovery (twenty hours lab/field-work required)
-Intermediate Conversational Binary
-Honors Seminar in Paper Shakespeare Wiped His Ass With One Time Some Scholars Say
What? It's about a child.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
-“This is a smart comedy,” now means, “It isn’t funny.”
-“Fiery” has always meant, “bitchy.”
-“Upcoming bio-pic” means, “The screenwriter, director and producers were thoroughly out of ideas, so they plagiarized the life of this other person who had some left.”
-“Thrillride” means, “You can take your desensitized children to this without worrying that they’ll be confused by the plot.”
-“Sexy” now means, “There’s no way in Hell you’ll see sex in this movie, but we guarantee the wardrobe people are making her bustier a size too small.”
-“Never since [anything],” or “The best [anything] since [anything],” both probably mean, “We’re taking massive bribes from the studio.”
-“A spirited performance,” means, “She didn’t graduate from acting school.”
-“For anyone who has ever [anything]” really means, “Good afternoon, Fly. Come into my parlor.”
-“From the [anyone] who brought you [anything]” means, “This guy is coasting on his reputation.”
-“Academy Award Winner,” means, “Guaranteed to disappoint this time.”
Monday, December 10, 2007
But Yuseff was unsatisfied. Sure, he had a platinum-plated wrist protector that kept his gold watch from chaffing, and a road no one else could drive on, but he didn't have enough. Consumer culture was too small for him. He lost sleep and spent an increasing amount of time away from his wife and kids trying to create something worth having.
One night, inspiration struck. A map. The world's first real map. Not a flat one, not a globe, not one that made Greenland look accurate in size, nor even one of those adjusting zigzag maps in the background of all the movies about the White House or U.N. Building. A map of total accuracy. A map that would have every coastline accurate to the kilometer, every building represented, and a key that read "1 Mile equals 1 Mile." That would show Capitalism how it was done!
Immediately he hired thousands of scientists who were very relieved to be employed after all that time in college with their parents asking what they would do with their lives. They experimented on how to get paper to fold extra times, on refractive light and holographic technology, and spent an awful lot of time surveying. Meanwhile, Yuseff handled the logistical end, trying to secure a place for his map. He wanted to try the moon, but his close advisors apologetically informed him that it was smaller than the earth, and even with cutting edge paper-folding technology, the map would probably knock the moon out of orbit. He almost licensed the sun for storage space, but it was informed that it was a poor locale, even if it was well-lit, and that if he tried to claim property on the sun, the Russians would probably declare war. And then, while he was filing the patents, he heard a nasty rumor and almost sued Google Earth for trying to steal his idea.
Early one morning he got a call from his wife. She was worried about their youngest daughter, Anita. The girl had been acting strangely for months, had been coming home covered in white paint, and wasn't playing with the other children. Yuseff begrudgingly cancelled his afternoon meetings and flew home to meet his daughter, who ran into his arms, her hands and face smudged with white paint. Yuseff asked her what this was all about and what was wrong with her, but her first reply was only to point at an industrial paint machine, usually applied for making lines on football fields. Before he could ask further, she dragged him to the roof of the mansion, where a telescope was fixed. After she threatened to cry if he didn't humor her, he looked through. Every so often in the distance of all four directions were large, white line segments, all perhaps fifty feet across, each row emanating from their property.
Yuseff gave his daughter a flabbergasted look, to which she responded, "One Mile equals One Mile!"
He blinked, looked through the telescope one more time, turned back to her, and hugged her to his side, saying, "Well, that'll do."
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Lo: Oh, our story is way better than that. Even if you don't like the way things develop, we get fightscenes for every couple of plot points. That makes up for any literary faults.
Puck: Oh yeah, this, this, this is great! I was talking about, you know... other stories. Of course.
Lo: Of course. And what's a movie?
Bathroom Monologue: (b th r m m n -lôg , -l g ) OR (it would have looked a lot more clever if the site could handle Greek letters)
2. (v) An attempt for a cheap laugh.
3. (v) A desperate cry for help.
4. (n) The philosophical artifice of an individual not nearly so worldly as he ought to be, but considerably more worldly than was good for his mental health.
5. "Well, when I was at college I spent an unreasonable amount of time researching, reading and writing papers for my professors. I went there to study composing fiction, but was exclusively writing non-fiction essays, and I feared that I would lose my personal creative drive, that thing that makes writers write without the commands of an academic setting, since the commands of an academic setting don't exist in the money-making, and hence, bill-paying and life-affirming real world. So whenever I got up to go to the bathroom, I would try to improvise a narrative. Sometimes I thought they were funny, and would type them up into IM's for friends when I got back to the computer. Sometimes my friends would say they were funny, which is a service friends provide to artists to keep them from committing suicide too early in life. Then one friend in particular pointed me to a place to catalog them. I don't even know why I-- is that tape recorder on?"