"Author of curiously engaging novellas. His stories are not driven by action but by mood and metaphysics. His premises often begin with fairly standard, often vaguely science-fiction concepts, but he spins those concepts out into melancholy, thoughtful tales in which he explores the emotion and (often) dislocation that people feel when confronted by something outside their normal experience." - Devon Kappa
Anyone around my age should remember the " 15-year-old Perfect Master ". He was some kid from India whose mom was a hell of a promoter. They sold out stadiums across the nation in the early 1970's, and had some famous followers like Jerry Rubin, if I'm not mistaken. Still, I wonder what happened to that guy. Since he was about the same age as me, he'd be a forty-something perfect master by now. At the time I was confused about that. I thought he was the 'Perfect 15-year-old Master', as if they had a Perfect Master for every age, and they'd all get bumped up every year, like Father Time. I wondered how they managed to co-ordinate all their birthdays, or whether to be a Perfect Master you even had to be born on a certain day, in order to facilitate that transition. The great thing about being a Perfect Master is it seemed you really didn't need any special skills, except perhaps plumpness and sitting still . I didn't have either of those traits a
a play in no acts: man of the cloth, staunchly anti-gay, anti-drugs, anti-you-name-it, periodically checks into a downtown hotel to have a 'private retreat', where he can write little books and sermons about how jesus was anti-gay, anti-drugs, and anti-you-name-it. man of the cloth gets bored, gets a little lonely, gets to thinking about how nice it would be to get high and have sex with a male hooker. aaahhh. that was good. afterwards he goes home to his little miss perfect submissive female and his well groomed kids and his wannabelieve congregation and tells them how bad everything is - and he should know. in fact, he's gonna do a little more research on all those very bad things.
Courtesy of jyosthnsay : just to share Pablo Neruda's Question Book *my favs* with you and your readers: feel the simplicity of that wonderment ... a) Tell me, is the rose really naked or does it just dress that way? b) Do you hear yellow detonations in mid-autumn? *the best one* c) where is the child that I was - inside of me still-or gone? d) From what does the hummingbird dangle its glittering symmetry? e) why all those wrinkles and holes in the rocks?
Some nice little pickup line tidbits from That Girl Who Writes Stuff : ----------------------- -Tells you . . . when the city you’re in doesn’t have a military base . . . that he is “shipping out tomorrow . . . . to uh, um, fight the French.” -Tells you that you’re worth the price of a steak dinner (insulting and creepy) -Engages in Google Spew (This is when a person throws one inane piece of trivia after another at you to show how smart they are) -Tells you that you’re so pretty he wants to cut you up, put you in his freezer and thaw you out when he wants a piece. . . . and tells you how big the freezer is. ---------------- I think I've never used a pickup line in my life. Not that I've never needed to! I just can't. The best one ever directed at me was when I was working at the Compact Disc Warehouse, and this one lady came over and said to me, "excuse me, but you are so good-looking" (excuse me, but she was so desperate!). All I could say was "woah&
We begin in a small bookstore. The bookstore owner (Wolff) is seated behind the counter reading PK Dick's "Ubik" when a man (Ronson) comes in, shows him a picture of another man and asks if he has seen him. In that moment, the two men seem to partially become each other, but the transaction becomes a normal sale as if nothing unusual just happened. The 'customer' (Ronson-Wolff) leaves the store and the 'owner' (Wolff-Ronson) remains where he was. Two men (Jimmy and Riley) come rushing in, looking for their leader, Ronson, but not recogonizing the partial Ronson-now-Wolff as that man. Told he has just left, they rush back out onto the street but see only a family - a father, teenaged son, and young daughter. The two men decide to return to 'the station', as the teenaged son comes into the bookstore, says goodbye to his family. The young man is reporting to work. The young man (Myron) and the bookstore owner (Wolff) later go to lunch together, at a r
The Ghost With The Really Big Tits by Tom Lichtenberg This is a true story. I swear it on my grandmother's tomb. At least I think it's true, and I would swear it on my grandmother's tomb if I had any idea where it was, or even if she has one. We never talked much, granny and me. I'll take the blame for that. After all, when she died I was only two months old and not able to add much to any conversation, let alone a chat with a ninety-eight year old lady. Then no one ever told me much about her, like where she was buried or maybe she was cremated and they sprinkled her ashes somewhere special. All I ever had of granny was an old photograph of when she was young. She was a pretty girl.. A very pretty girl. The kind of girl who never has a chance to be anything else than that very pretty girl everybody was always saying she was, the same kind of girl this story is about. The girl's name was Gloria Gatusso and she died when she was only seventeen. Hit by a car, jus