April 22, 2014 – NaPoWriMo day 22

“I’m that giant sign screaming BEST HOT DOGS HERE! So you come to me. You always come to me. And you order more hot dogs and forget all the carbohydrate-laden fries. You don’t even bother with onion rings. What’s wrong with you? If you’re going to eat a fat bomb, then do yourself a favor and go all out. No one wants to eat meat when there isn’t something potato-like on the side. Starch and protein are supposed to be together. That’s why America’s favorite meal is steak and potatoes.”

-excerpt from SCT


April 21, 2014 – NaPoWriMo days 19, 20, & 21

Day 19

“So I will be gold, golder, and goldest. I will be golden and gold-infused. You’ll be able to pick at my gold with your teeth, with your fingernails. You can adorn your bedroom with pieces of me. You can hang me from your windows so that when the light streams in, adding to my glow, a beautiful golden light will be cast over everything. It will be the most natural golden light ever experienced. It will be so solid that you’ll be able to eat it.”

 

Day 20

“Maybe I sit on your daddy’s moldy lap. Maybe I meet your daddy in the middle of a moldy coffee shop, where we share a bagel with cream cheese and lox before beginning our clandestine affair. Or maybe we get lost in the middle of a moldy patch of park, where we uproot moldy roses and click our teeth together. We are moldy and this is what you’ve done to us. The mold didn’t come from your daddy. The mold came from you.”

 

Day 21

“It is still summer but the air is as sticky as melted plastic draped over everyone’s heads. You bat at the heat like you would water when swimming. Maybe that’s where you should be right now, leaping head-first into the East River and hoping you don’t hit a rock (or a bloated dolphin) on the way down. But maybe that’s the Gowanus Canal you’re thinking of. You get your bodies of water mixed up. You don’t particularly like going into Brooklyn anyway. Hipster Nation scares you. Everyone looks too tight. They look as melted as the air. What you want is a lukewarm hot dog swimming in bacteria, the tube meat nestled in a steamed bun and decorated with mustard, ketchup, and relish. If you’re feeling a little adventurous, you’ll go for the fried onions as well but normally, you stick with the old standby. It’s easier to have a ritual than to make up tradition from scratch.”

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I meant to post this weekend but time got away from me. I did scribble some interesting ideas down though. And last night, I started thinking of lines and had to write them down before I forgot. I feel like today’s writing has more energy than I anticipated. It could be because I went to NYC and the environment change was enough to jumpstart some creativity. There’s nothing like the hustle and bustle combined with a ferry ride across the Hudson to give you some ideas. On the reading front, I’ve only got a few pages left before I finish XO Orpheus edited by Kate Bernheimer and then I get to move onto another book in my to-read pile. I think I’ll read House of Houses by Kevin L. Donihe  next, then start House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. And aside from that, I have plenty of editing to get through. Yes, the editing hurts but I’m past the half-way point so I have to keep going. Until tomorrow, friends. Happy Monday.


April 18, 2014 – NaPoWriMo day 18

“I am sitting in the grass by the water’s edge and I am glowing so brilliantly, my glow creates a double sun illusion on the water’s surface. You watch the light undulate with the water’s surface. Every ripple beneath the water causes my light to waver. I shimmer so brightly, people tan just by walking past me. I am not just sitting in the grass glowing triumphantly. I am reading. I am reading and glowing. Or, I look like I’m reading. Instead, I’m peering over the top of my book to watch everyone else. My expression is neutral but if someone were to give it some sort of emotion, they would quickly go with calm. So I look calm although I feel nothing. I don’t feel angry or tranquil. I just feel. I am the picture of neutrality. You want to go up to me, introduce yourself, but really, you don’t want to ruin my emotional state. You keep to the far edge of the lake, just around the watery bend, where you can pretend you don’t notice me even while watching me. You stare at the fish that swim close to the surface near my part of the lake. You pretend to focus on them intently, so that you have a reason to look in my direction. You don’t care about fish. You don’t eat fish. You don’t go fishing.”

-Excerpt from SCT

 


April 17, 2014 – NaPoWriMo day 17

 

“You get confused about day or night. There is a disease that obliterates the Circadian Rhythm but it is predominantly found in those who are incapable of sensing changes in light. You can tell the light changes even with your eyes closed. The space behind your lids turn red, then yellow, then black, then red again. Sometimes, the yellow fades into a green. You never see blue and that bothers you. If you can see every other bodily color, why not blue? But you think about this for some time and then you realize that no matter how many bodies you’ve placed a hand upon, none ever had any blue. The arteries themselves weren’t blue networks. They were almost purple. They were always shaded with red in some way. But blue? True blue? You haven’t found a bodily blueberry yet.”

-Excerpt from SCT

 


April 16, 2014 – NaPoWriMo day 16

“I caught a neutrino with my tongue and kept it as a pet until someone begged to rub it, forcing me to release my neutrino back into the wild. I have fractured both my left knees and attempted to replace the bones with rusted radiators (soon enough, my chest plate will go the way of an antique claw-foot tub). I have witnessed three murders saturated with bottled water and all three times, the murder was never caught. At the top of the Grand Tetons, I tore my liver out and threw it off the mountain peak just to see if I could find it when I got back down. An anesthesiologist told me he would start counting me down but I convinced him to use shapes instead of numbers (circle, square, triangle, rectangle, rhombus, pentagon, hexagon, octagon, nonagon… sleep). I saw you strip once and that meant you removed three layers of skin: the first layer was blue, the second layer was gold, and the third layer was chrome. I have a friend who eats ashes while drinking a glass of milk but I think I’ll have to dump her soon because she said her appetites are yearning for your charcoal form.”

-Excerpt from SCT


April 15, 2014 – NaPoWriMo day 15

“I want to pin you up to the sky like a constellation. The YOU DIPPER. YOU MAJOR. YOU NEBULA. You’ll be so beautiful, shoved up against the blackness, the white dots shining out, all heavy with radioactive gases, the only way we can really see into the light. By following radiation, we can see to the end of the universe. We rely on microwaves to tell us what we don’t already know. You locate the one blue place in the sky and decide you want to spend your time there. You decide it might be nice to pluck that little blueness from the sky and pin it on your lapel like a boutonnière. You can sniff it whenever you want.”

-Excerpt from SCT


April 14, 2014 – NaPoWriMo days 13 & 14

Day 13

“A black hole (technically, an event horizon) is the square of the universal gynecologist, HERE BE THE LOIN, in the nurtured sponge. The square of the triangular ocean is thought to be sweeter than sweet, while the square of the broken back is more like a bitter fruit. The black hole is a chimera, most likely of the Brooklyn Bridge (metal suspension) and Andromeda Galaxy (starstruck neighbor) and has been forming since the Big Bang came banging onto the scene. Possibly coming from the galactic stomach, black holes were found in the atomic rip even before the dawn of time. Stick figure men placed their heads in the black holes and back squares; stick figure men promised to curb the black holes in one quasar or another. Black holes have been the favorite form of suicide since the advent of the space age. Black holes sometimes grow on trees or can be found at the center of the Bermuda Triangle (although these black holes are much smaller in size), where they rotate as fast as a tropical ceiling fan. The line directly before the event horizon can be devoured like a melon’s meat, or grated to give a raspberry-like taste to alcoholic beverages (this is especially handy for those who find actual raspberries too difficult to eat), in a method similar to rasping citrus fruit peels. The square of the triangular ocean is constantly sailed through (1/7 ships will disappear from the radar screen). Beginning in 2014, 343.23 thousand pounds of black holes (all static but theorized to soon awake with hunger) were harvested in a series of concrete orchards, the largest providers being found in Manhattan, New York and Toronto, Canada.”

_________________

Day 14

 

“If my back were painted on a wall along with a series of other backs, would you be capable of identifying which was mine or at least which were not? Have you ever tried eating a pink flower just to know for certain that the color is just that and never the flavor? What if I were to shed my skin like a snake to reveal gold-plated muscle beneath and then jump onto your abdomen to do a dance of the resurrecting dead? What if I decided that instead of the please-come-back dance, I decided to do the jig of destruction? What if I waltzed over each of your internal organs, rupturing them beneath my heels until the organic slurry seemed more like milk than bloody juice? What if I used the liquids to make a Shroud of Turin imprint of your body against a silken sheet? What if I wore it, then burned it, then ate the ashes so you would never escape? What if I did that? What if I did? (You tasted like barbecue briquets.)”

 


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