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Wk00.4 @the Floor brought to you by THE TEMPEST
Date: 2017/03/15 13:08 By: deplancher Status: Admin  
Karma: 14  
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Posts: 1531
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[DeP's reading stuff, as she should be. She's also making toast out of some bread with cranberries in it. She is hoping there isn't going to be a fire.]

Yes, Jesus. I do miss the Doom Man. How could I not? We've only been roommates, dance partners, amber shot slingers, crisis line managers, les capitals examiners, experimental substance ingesters, coverers for each other with the boss whenever necessario, wearers of each others clothes, repairers of the mirrorball or at least admiration of it, borrowers of each other's pencils, bicycles, boyfriends, motorbikes, costumes, fondue pots, roasters, pigeon training manuals...not necessarily all of that being the whole truth but still...we've been here together on this Floor under the mirrorball in this dank building on this scary street since...well, a long time. Maybe in the beginning one of us was still a teenager even. But probably not. Anyway, we've been here. Since then. You get used to a person. Doesn't matter that we have different...uh..interests, approaches. You get used to a person. The presence of them. You notice their absence.

I know he can be horrible. It's nature's way...well his nature. I can't explain him. Can you, Jesus?

Anyway, I miss him and I think you might too. He's made of goodstuff toughstuff resilience and second hand parts and blood, lots of blood, though so I know wherever he is he's alright. I'm a believer in what I believe, so.

Do you think I talk too much, Jesus? Not just talk but babble on...about things that are not important? Not that it matters. I was just wondering. Maybe it's this cap I'm just examining in front of me. I mean, I like the conversation...the content. There's substance. But substance..I mean...you can't have another Zen. Not in under 4000 words anyway. Not without...well, there's only one Phaedrus.

Are you asleep, Jesus? Do you want some toast?

DeP
A Bluelight Dancer/Not a Pocketbook Romancer
of The Floor
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Re:Wk00.4 @the Floor brought to you by THE TEMPEST
Date: 2017/03/17 15:24 By: deplancher Status: Admin  
Karma: 14  
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Posts: 1531
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[DePlancher is scribbling fast, scrunching up her words, scribbling again. There's paper covering the floor space all around her desk. Rimbaud is down there on his back now, abusing a loose ball of discarded words via maul by claws.]

Who own the space between your eyes, huh? Is it Perspective? Is it Depth? Or is it merely Pure Aesthetics? And who decided drawing your eyebrows on and accenting them with thick square edges is somehow more appropriate and appealing than letting your unruly uneven albeit actual eyebrows represent?

Sometimes...[she looks down at words just written, then rips the page from the notepad scrunches and tosses it to the tiles with all the rest.]

I read Mr. Jones's A Public Place. It tickled my cerebellum, or was that my werner cortex? Anyway, there were some good parts. Parts worth pondering. But I've deemed it inconclusive. No one wins today but the fellows in green. Is that a green garter belt, Jesus? Do not answer.

A Public Place begs a bigger room. It's been freed for now, transferred to another place...out there, beyond time and space.

[DeP's gaze is faraway. She hums a mournful tune...it might be Whiter Shade of Pale but who listens to Procol Harum anymore?]

DeP
A Bluelight Dancer/Not a Pocketbook Romancer
of The Floor
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Re:Wk00.4 @the Floor brought to you by THE TEMPEST
Date: 2017/03/18 00:22 By: Jesus Status: Admin  
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[Jesus hums a keen, sitting on the pilot's chair. On the desktop his iPhone goes beserk, wiggles here and there. Jesus wags his head and gets outside the keen, and he stands]

DePlancher, we must find a nice breakfast menu, eh? Should we get our asses outside the door? Dare we face the deluge? Just around the corner I heard there's a great place with waitresses that look like your best kid friend's mom, and the smell of bacon kills you each step you take, and they've knives to sharpen, and...

[Jesus lowers his head]

S'if I could ever leave this prison.
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Re:Wk00.4 @the Floor brought to you by THE TEMPEST
Date: 2017/03/19 00:59 By: Jesus Status: Admin  
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[Jesus flips another page of the current capital. He taps his combat sunglasses firm. He pulls out a Java, shives a hole. He strikes a Swan Vesta, fires up the tip of his cigar. He sucks in some seriously sweet smoke, blows it mirrorballward. He refocuses on the current capital. He sighs]

Wow.

[He sucks in some smoke, blows it out]

This is some really horrible capital. I mean, wow. Could be, hate to use a term I just used prior, this fellow doesn't use english as a major viewpoint. Could be he or she is from another country, right? Which is cool, but we can't publish poop, regardless of where it comes from. Nice try, Peter.

[Jesus grabs up the current capital and he tosses it aftward]

Peter White's Rough Sketches has been tossed to the winds and rains, cousins.
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Re:Wk00.4 @the Floor brought to you by THE TEMPEST
Date: 2017/03/19 23:32 By: deplancher Status: Admin  
Karma: 14  
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Posts: 1531
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[DeP's dressed funny. She looks too flowy. Everything she's wearing is all feminine and light. If she does another one of those light foot twirls, the dust from the dance floor might choke her now friend, Jesus, which would never sit right with anyone. She adjusts her light and airy sunhat...which has a very wide brim...and seats herself primly on the stool next to her desk.]

Non, we will never escape this place except by miracle...you believe in miracles, don't you Jesus? or imagination. These are of course linked as you know, for to experience either requires an adventurous spirit, a willingness to spin the bottle and take a chance.

Take this par example. In my left hand I hold a slice of vegetarian pizza. Its primary flavour comes from the goat cheese. In my right, I hold a light-hearted cap. I have difficulty at times with both these things: the smell of goat cheese and recognizing light-hearted entertainment for its intrinsic value.

Of the many things I do not expend my pondering whimsy upon is justification. Fly away, ginger bread man..what if you do have too many or too few buttons on your otherwise naked brownness? I will bite you, and I will not explain though I might be just now explaining. Oh well...hear that? It's the dinner bell.

Up now, just before I go. Lorna Wood's Gutman to the Rescue is enroute to Terminali-ville. Make way make way. Then you, Bukowski's Ghost who slumbers so here free of rent or specifically defined purpose, please bring me my cloak. The air is chilled and this dress far too flimsy to cover and warm me. Merci.

DeP
A Bluelight Dancer/Not a Pocketbook Romancer
of The Floor
Click here to see the profile of this user The topic has been locked.