Saturday, August 26, 2006
1.) WE COULD STILL END-UP WITH THE GREAT BIG FISHES
Timothy is 42 years old and lives alone. Although he has grown accustomed to the whispered voices of the ELDERLY LADY SPIRITS at the well of his elevator, the fleeting "extra" person in the mirror - small things, easily written off in his willing imagination. Then there are times - a sudden change of season, a dog looks past his face into?...something that defies his confidant dismissal of the earth-bound supernatural. Like struggling to open a third, clouded eye. Blinking to focus, on the shy, shadowed smiles and whispers that fill the ether.
Today, Saturday, he awoke in enormous confusion. The clock read 3:45, he saw it was dark outside and he began to imagine that it was late Thursday afternoon with its darkness and torrential downpours. He checked his calendar on his cell phone, and no, it was in fact 3:45AM Saturday morning - dark for being early -but his confidence in the date and time remained clear for just a second. It then slowly gave way to his new conviction that the conscious world must conform to his dream. He then resumed his anxiety for having overslept (it can't be THURSDAY?) all the while struggling to make the room, the daylight, his tasks and his continuous spinning coalesce into the concrete-familiar he knew was just an eyelash away from his Wonderland.
He'd looked at his phone (and by now at his watch) and had confirmed his very early awakening for Friday. Timothy dug deep and psychologically unearthed - Mental Confusion featuring Auditory Hallucinations -I should be able to DEEPLY BREATHE them away. Shadows in his visual periphery. Three separate smoky shapes. They moved like dogs recently freed to greet their master, enthusiastic, hungry. Each needing to nuzzle Timothy. Psychology unravells.
This was queueing up to be a perfectly unbearable day full of the pinpricks, hair pulls and constant distraction of his loosely earthbound entourage. Timothy began to coach himself aloud ",Stick to the busses, even posessed you'll still be the least conspicuous passenger. Get groceries at the CO-OP. You'll never stand out even with all of your healthy teeth & no Body Ink. And most importantly, when you say something to yourself that you disagree with, take the conversation outside before you kick you own ass!" Already his lips move as he rehearses his coping skills.
THIS IS HOW HE MANAGES HIS DEAD ENTOURAGE DERIVED FROM 40 ODD YEARS IN THE MAELSTROM
JOB 1: Never appear as confused as you feel. Lots of eye contact but not SO much as to be staring, you'll attract floating eyes that hover between you and the MEATWORLD.
Job 2: Don't trust the young dead. Their idealism is tissue in the wind. Bright, colorful, provocative. Must remember: Look at the fruit. Sniff the fruit. Squeeze it if you want but don't trust it.
Job 3: After some time with unfamiliar Apparitions, engage them directly, asking that,"They reveal to you the message they'd like for you to convey." Ask their name (remember, THEY LIE! Eternity leaves a lot of time for screwing around.)
Job 4: If they simply want to act-out, rebuke them in a clear strong voice until a time certain. "SPIRIT (name it) I rebuke thee in the name of the LIGHT that connects us all. My glow and the glow of the living around me now consume your LIGHT and ANGER until FATE makes it possible for us to touch again.
Job 5: Apparitions love BIG words and especially "thee" and "thou."
JOB 6: They assume you are a crazy fuck-up until YOU can prove you're not.
Job 7: Only a pair of you lives on EARTH at a time. You've already beat the 30SomethngSuicide. Get's crazier from here.
Characters - TIMOTHY 42 Gay Male
PUCK fastest of the Apparitions/GOOD or BAD.
TO BE CONTINUED, My Own Little Haunted Novella! IN FACT OH, FRIEND. LET US MAKE THIS OUR OWN LITTLE HAUNTED NOVELLA!
You Are invited to ignore, mock, read, poo-poo, hate, rage at, and grind your teeth at the following epic prose poem. Take as much space as you like. HOWEVER! If you hook into any part you think is cool, don't hold back.
Don't be self-conscious, I'll EDIT as I see fit as we begin to take shape and to maintain a single voice. I'll work primarily on keeping the language true. If what you write sucks, my work will be harder.
Create characters, try to sustain the fatalistic Southern Irony that bends light as it passes through a BACCARAT high boy. Sex is cool, but don't overdo the "boing chicky boing boIng repeat!" - play careful under your sheets! We'll publish you raw or edited as we (timothy hogan) see fit. Whew! Disclaimered!
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