tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42255742826131163072024-02-07T16:51:29.122-08:00The Moss ProblemAnthony Franciosahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01492167388805463135noreply@blogger.comBlogger173125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-22262954023804125282021-11-03T05:15:00.010-07:002021-11-18T10:00:50.510-08:00FOUR MILLION DEAD IN OHIOFor now. For all time----/Inventing insane smile-like expressions/In a sad town/Upstate from forgotten capital city/Counting empty cans and bottles/Of liquid quick death/Oh-so-legal in the four corners/Of this one-room/Sameness!/Pointless!/Fabulous! [2005]Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-26549047738380236562021-06-20T14:57:00.096-07:002021-11-02T23:44:01.046-07:00SUPERCOOL> >>À KIND OF TRAP, TRIPPED!
> >>Beneath the A-bomb-blasting sun----
> >>Flowers so precious,
> >>For they are the flags of God.
> >>And where do I stand with God?
> >>I race to escape His displeasure.
> >>Prostrated on a tile floor--
> >>Marching to the corner store
> >>Dressed to the nines.
> >>I was a punk,
> >>I am a mod
> >>Living to save the ravers.
> >>If I ever stop I fall into my grave.
> >>Easy!
> >>I can't tell,
> >>Told until loveless
> >>All over Supertown
> >>Nothingness in the middle of everything.
> >>Everywhere. All the time.
> >>This is not a secret.
> >>This is obvious to everyone.
> >>A living moralty play all day,
> >>All my life.
> >>So I breathe,
> >>I'm real, I'm real,
> >>I love my life.
> >>On earth looking at stars.
> >>On drugs looking at stars.
> >>We are starlets.
> >>Thanks, thank you, I'm grateful. [2001] Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-19104933114560869432021-01-01T15:59:00.018-08:002021-06-23T20:00:54.690-07:00Now!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 16px;">Hail Mary, full of grace,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 16px;">the Lord is with thee.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 16px;">Blessed art thou amongst women,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 16px;">and blessed is the issue of thy womb, Jesus.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 16px;">Holy Mary, Mother of God,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 16px;">pray for us sinners,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><span face="-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Lato, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 16px;">now and at the hour of our death.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-size: 16px;"> </div>Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-56973534117403118582020-12-31T21:00:00.006-08:002021-12-06T00:15:50.722-08:00SPORTY SPICE USA LIVES!/CAST OF THOUSANDS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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, Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-40760215801022906542020-05-16T18:43:00.003-07:002021-08-13T04:24:03.720-07:00SUBURBAN ZONE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">Late Fall, 1984. For months a white sky, occasional cold </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">rain, a cold wind from all directions. Nothing to look forward to </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">except Winter. There is no love in this world anymore.</span><br />
<span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">My name is Esther, I am 19. Dash is 17. He is my day and night and </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">he has no idea how I feel. We are two homeless kids in suburbia. I'm </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">sure that in a hundred years our lives will seem strange, important, </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">and futuristic but today I am only cold and hungry and I miss Dash. </span><br />
<span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">Through the mist at the corner of Robb and Lora I spy a white </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">utility shed adorned with a bold, beautiful, black Circle-A. I say a </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">prayer to nobody and wait. Neighbors watch from every window. </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">My blouse is spray-painted bright orange, my Levi's are tight and </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">black, my motorcycle boots only heighten my mystery. </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">After a minute of this fashion show, I spin around once and head </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">three blocks over to Zig Zag. Church bells ring on and on so I sit on </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">the sidewalk and smoke. </span><br />
<span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">Soon I hear Dash yelling my name, I stand, I see him running toward me. I put </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">my arms around him. He's crying and pretends he's not crying. The rain </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">comes down colder and faster. </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">We don't mind. We start out on the endless cold walk to the city. It seems </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">like it's a thousand miles away. Singing helps. I sing "Borderline" by </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">Madonna first. </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">We luck out and get a ride from a punk rocker: leather jacket, </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">spiky hair and all. He drops us off at a run-down hotel. Dash and I </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">share a room for a week. We don't even kiss once. Too sad. </span><br />
<span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">Later, Dash was elected President of the United States. We both </span><span face=""helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px;">found that fact hilarious.</span></div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-51330430529403449562020-04-16T06:00:00.003-07:002021-10-25T17:35:52.609-07:00SEXCAPADES KANSAS EIGHTY-EIGHT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Less than three seconds of "Taps" hummed, now Esther smiled, then laughed at the July Kansas Dusk only because she was senseless. The end of the day was always and ever a fantastic event for her, tho'. Esther Lustig, singer of a mildly acclaimed "Worthlessville, Ohio" pop combo, the super-phenomenal American Movie Star, as seen in the pages of all the supercool punk rock fanzines. FLIPSIDE raved, "Baffling and not entirely pointless." And the Cincinnati Scene Report in MAXIMUM ROCKNROLL gushed, "Stereotypical girl bass player and stereotypical girl singer combined at last! And O! The Anguish!"<br />
<br />
Esther stood at the stage door smoking a Kool King, pacing up front now to see the crowd, half Lawrence College Kids, some men with makeup and women in scattered fancy weird outfits, a few gothic types moping about. The rest were all punks, punk rockers, hardcore kids, skaters, and cross-dressers. Then, Shock! Esther was outside now and from the loading dock she spies a boy who keeps shooting dart-looks her way. He's cute enough. Oh, well. Whatever.<br />
<br />
At Eleven-ish the 3-piece played "Kick Out the Jams." Neat. Then, like a bolt from Sky Pilot, "Lusty" Essie launched into her rant: "Rock is NOT dead. No, Rock never existed at all! I'm sorry, A Sick Version of Rock DOES exist. Yes! Call it CORPORATE ROCK, it is all around us, in us, of us. Fuck-Up Rock Rules, tho'. And fuck this next song. It's called, 'Mona Lisa Overdrive Theme.' Everyone of you..."guys" is a waste case! Have fun, I guess. NOW!" Bass, Voice, Drum, Guitar commence to play and once again American Movie Star, as ever, prove they remain the greatest band there ever was.<br />
<br />
After the show, the Cute Boy approaches Esther, she likes his looks OK and within 20 minutes they find a cot in the club storeroom, they go to town, fucking, sucking, even love-like kisses are given and accepted. Cute Boy sported a condom, no one had a cold sore, so it could've been worse. Superfine.<br />
<br />
Six, Dawn, Boy long gone back to his Legendary Skater House, Esther Lustig waits with her cohorts on a 24-hr. mechanic replacing spark plugs or something in their incredible Mystery Machine replica van. And finally on the road to Sioux Falls at 9 a.m.<br />
<br />
Esther sings "The Happiest Girl in the Whole USA" <i>loud</i> and somehow it's true. She <i>is </i>happy. Call out the National Guard.</div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-68982383386385874352019-09-16T10:54:00.003-07:002021-10-17T23:48:49.170-07:00ROCKET TO NOWHERE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Who is this corporate Anti-Ray Speen? He is Roy Spoon (formerly Ro Spain).</blockquote>
<br />
To escape the stigma of Our Nameless Decades, Pantheon Books, on Jan. 1, 2020, will publish 40 books at once by Mystery Man, Roy Spoon ("'It' Boy of the Twenties," "Voice of Our Time," ) including novels, poetry, science fiction, Westerns, sex mysteries, essays, memoir, and prophecy. The publisher can expect to dominate all best sellers lists for a year at least and Spoon will soon be accepted as an immortal. He's a 27 year-old trans-man, from Kansas USA, no less! Expect a Nobel Prize for Spoon by age 40.<br />
<br />
According to anonymous sources, "Roy Spoon" is not one man but instead an army of 100 English Majors creating Immortal Masterworks for a half-cent a word and no royalties or credit. My world and welcome to it.</div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-58096468486644805912019-09-11T08:46:00.000-07:002019-09-24T13:35:50.601-07:00THE AVENGERS "Avengers"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<iframe seamless="" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=3780525167/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/transparent=true/" style="border: 0; height: 470px; width: 350px;"><a href="http://digital.penelope.net/album/avengers">Avengers by The Avengers</a></iframe></div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-52967575929964491132019-09-11T00:00:00.000-07:002019-09-13T00:57:58.132-07:00 Last Revision of SEPTEMBER 1, 1939 by W.H. Auden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I sit in one of the dives<br />
On Fifty-Second Street<br />
Uncertain and afraid<br />
As the clever hopes expire<br />
Of a low dishonest decade;<br />
Waves of anger and fear<br />
Circulate over the bright<br />
And darkened lands of the earth,<br />
Obsessing our private lives;<br />
The unmentionable odour of death<br />
Offends the September night.<br />
<br />
Accurate scholarship can<br />
Unearth the whole offence<br />
From Luther until now<br />
That has driven a culture mad,<br />
Find what occurred at Linz,<br />
Find what huge imago made<br />
A psychopathic god:<br />
I and the public know<br />
What all schoolchildren learn,<br />
Those to whom evil is done<br />
Do evil in return.<br />
<br />
Exiled Thucydides knew<br />
All that a speech can say<br />
About Democracy,<br />
And what dictators do,<br />
The elderly rubbish they talk<br />
To an apathetic grave;<br />
Analysed all in his book,<br />
The enlightenment driven away,<br />
The habit-forming pain,<br />
Mismanagement and grief:<br />
We must suffer them all again.<br />
<br />
Into this neutral air<br />
Where blind skyscrapers use<br />
Their full height to proclaim<br />
The strength of Collective Man,<br />
Each language pours its vain<br />
Competitive excuse:<br />
But who can live for long<br />
In an euphoric dream;<br />
Out of the mirror they stare,<br />
Imperialism's face<br />
And the international wrong.<br />
<br />
Faces along the bar<br />
Cling to their average day:<br />
The lights must never go out,<br />
The music must always play,<br />
All the conventions conspire<br />
To make this fort assume<br />
The furniture of home;<br />
Lest we should see where we are,<br />
Lost in a haunted wood,<br />
Children afraid of the night<br />
Who have never been happy or good.<br />
<br />
The windiest militant trash<br />
Important Persons shout<br />
Is not so crude as our wish:<br />
What mad Nijinsky wrote<br />
About Diaghilev<br />
Is true of the normal heart;<br />
For the error bred in the bone<br />
Of each woman and each man<br />
Craves what it cannot have,<br />
Not universal love<br />
But to be loved alone.<br />
<br />
From the conservative dark<br />
Into the ethical life<br />
The dense commuters come,<br />
Repeating their morning vow;<br />
"I<br />
will <br />
be true to the wife,<br />
I'll concentrate more on my work,"<br />
And helpless governors wake<br />
To resume their compulsory game:<br />
Who can release them now,<br />
Who can reach the deaf,<br />
Who can speak for the dumb?<br />
<br />
Defenceless under the night<br />
Our world in stupor lies;<br />
Yet, dotted everywhere,<br />
Ironic points of light<br />
Flash out wherever the Just<br />
Exchange their messages:<br />
May I, composed like them<br />
Of Eros and of dust,<br />
Beleaguered by the same<br />
Negation and despair.</div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-11818482035431128922019-05-01T00:00:00.000-07:002019-10-09T12:01:18.357-07:00THE STORY OF TUESDAY<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I walked to a deserted public library and used a computer for the first time and strangely, I felt vaguely to blame for these new USA super-horrors. I can almost recall a public conversation in the Nineties about hating the way the grotesque World Trade Center ruined the NYC skyline, and wishing out loud that the Twin Towers be demolished. Just idle talk in coffee shops, discussion of the bomber that crashed into the Empire State Building in the forties, and speculation about weaponized passenger jets. Not sure if this is delusional or accurate.</div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-16046573114368915312019-04-20T02:55:00.001-07:002021-11-03T10:39:11.049-07:00SPORTY SPICE IS YOUR ONLY FRIEND!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVO2JVhY2gS1wN-yy1vQ-z7XWnJXHrDJys6PB2TjefPp2yqLwqIOz854TIU8qSdOpfZzTEoj5dk-Cy7hocyDnjqGK-emzFvFRLLyGmcsC7-H4gxQyM8ML5uN-d6jSE6pHom4LOHk-K6E/s1600/SS1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVO2JVhY2gS1wN-yy1vQ-z7XWnJXHrDJys6PB2TjefPp2yqLwqIOz854TIU8qSdOpfZzTEoj5dk-Cy7hocyDnjqGK-emzFvFRLLyGmcsC7-H4gxQyM8ML5uN-d6jSE6pHom4LOHk-K6E/s640/SS1.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">I know it's not <i>wrong</i> that she only feels comfortable when everything---<i>everything---</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">is wrecked, but see, you see, <i>Our Sporty Spice</i> is pretty fukkin' vulnerable tonight. Yes, she's even asking <i>God</i> why <i>He</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> has to <i>be </i>this<i> way</i>, and yes, she knows the answer already, the only answer even possible: <i>The Usual Nothing.</i><br />
<br />
She asks anyway</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">, maybe pretends that she has <i>at last</i> got the attention of <i>Someone</i> who never </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">paid attention to <i>Us</i> before ("God in Three Persons, trapped!" she might exclaim, only <i>if</i>.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Now, in a backwater, from the furthest reaches, out of East of Nowhere, way outside, here comes the Umpteenth Anti-Christ, and now Sporty rings out a worldwide alarm, no one nowhere does not know and all us fux </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">pay no attention. In this New Now, it's left to Our Sporty Spice, she saves</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> Western Civilization (which she worse than despises) <i>again</i>, and Now, most likely, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">she's horribly damaged in the effort, and sadly, Post-War, <i>these specific symptoms,</i> her <i>Fuckin' War Injuries</i> soon become <i>The World-Wide New Emblems of Occidental Female Sexuality.</i><br />
<br />
Sporty sells Stupid Sad Sex to YOU for decades and--for then, for now, for always ever----Look Around----SS has without killing <i>one</i> worthless Alpha Primate-Image-of-Highfather-King-Christ-Holy-Ghost <i>AKA</i> the <i>Anti-Devils Kill Squad</i>, she has from yesterday, until today, and going forward from here toward <i>what</i>? The Stupid Sick High-Hilarity <i>Fact</i> of all of this is that, you might as well face it, chum, <i>Our Sporty Spice</i> has without <i>any</i> effort at all taken over almost all of this in every way Wrong and Worse-than-Worthless So-Called "Spaceship Earth." [<i>Please Kill Me!</i>]<br />
<br />
And for then, for now, and always and ever...witness the <i>True Last Collapse of the West</i>...certainly this is...finally...at last [!]...<i>most truly</i>...<i>Sporty </i></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;">Spice World!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Get bent, ya Flowerpots!</span></div>
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Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-35579631581053851362018-06-28T06:10:00.000-07:002018-06-28T06:15:54.658-07:00Exclusive!! LeBron to Bucks!!<style type="text/css">
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The Moss Problem and this sportswriter
have obtained exclusive news that the Milwaukee Bucks are in
smoke-filled room negations to sign LeBron James to a three-year
contract of unprecedented proportions in order to bring new life and
another NBA championship to the Brew City's only professional sports
team. Sources could not be named at this time, in an effort to
protect H. Houndstooth's continued access to information that could
otherwise prove litigious for interested parties. Readers will be
asked to accept this story on faith and check back frequently for
more breaking details as they surface.<br />
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The details that are known: LeBron was
reported to have visited the Buck's new half-billion dollar sports
area, set to open for next year's season. James was impressed with
the as yet unnamed arena in the heart of downtown Milwaukee,
remarking that it reminded him of a “giant Arby's,” his favorite
sandwich franchise as a youth in Akron, Ohio. Part of the
negotiations could hinge on the arena being named either “LeBron
Arena” or “Giant Arby's.”
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Bucks general office has neither
confirmed nor denied these rumors, but an exclusive interview with an
unnamed franchise insider has reported plans to dump the contracts of
the entire team, including all of the “slow, 7-footers with names
no-one can pronounce” in an unprecedented move to re-build with a
legitimate superstar and “a supporting cast who wants to be there,”
and for whom winning is more important than salary. This potential
restructuring, if it transpires, could send shockwaves through
professional sports as far a future franchise building is concerned.
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In other exclusive Bucks news, it has
also been reported that both the front office and James are in
negotiations with former NBA superstar and Milwaukee native, Latrell
Sprewell as a candidate for player-coach, because as has been
reported, Sprewell remarked, “I may be pushing 50 but I can still
dunk over most of the pussies currently playing in the league.”
James, it is reported, is pushing this deal, as he has admiration for
both Sprewell's game and his history of direct player-coach
relationships, as “no pussy-footing around.”
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James and Sprewell, reported, also see
eye-to-eye concerning matters of great consequence for the NBA going
forward, including uniform standards, and both veterans consider
themselves “old-school” and not fans of the new form-fitting,
over the shoulder styles and long pants that may be be standard as soon
as 2019. They also are against the use of NFL receiver
styles “gloves” which are being introduced by Nike as soon as
next season. When approached for comment about any of these rumors,
James and Sprewell both declined to comment, but it is noted that in
both cases, each of them replied with a double "thumbs up," and in the
case of James, what sounded like, “Aaaaaaay.”
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H. Houndstooth</div>
Houndstoothhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17823994507883913838noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-20963143009624174752018-05-08T06:21:00.000-07:002018-05-08T06:28:32.340-07:00The Byrds - Younger Than Yesterday<style type="text/css">
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I have spent my life trying not to have
to try to figure out The Byrds; it might have been different if I'd
started way back, maybe not from the beginning, but maybe when this
1967 album came out, their fourth. I could have joined the cult, been
indoctrinated, socialized, whatever. It's kind of like with any cult,
if you're brainwashed from childhood, the belief is second nature,
and of course even inescapable. But it you're not, none of it ever
really makes sense. The Byrds have had so many members come and go
over the years, they may as well be a group with a history like the
Masons, and in fact, there could be arguments made that The Byrds and
the Masons are one in the same. This brilliant, groundbreaking album
comes off the tracks at the end of the “CTA - 102” when we hear
the simultaneous forward and tape reversed voice of <i>Satan</i>
(which sounds suspiciously like the garden gnome episode of “Night
Gallery”)—and the album then starts traveling in reverse (the
next song is “Renaissance Fair”).<br />
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I was finally coerced to approach this
record by my ex-employer, Anthony Franciosa (not the actor, but the
editor of <i>The Moss Problem</i>), and even though the compensation
is minimal, Tony convinced me over breakfast at his regular hangout,
Foxy's Restaurant, in Glendale (part of the greater Los Angeles). One
of his arguments was that the song “Thoughts and Words” sounds
exactly like a Bob Lind number (who I just wrote about) and then goes
into a chorus that sounds exactly like someone else (on the tip of my
tongue—I'll think of it and fill it in <i>here</i> later). Then it
uses the backwards guitars, which never sounded good to me, but
still, I like the idea. That technique is taken to an extreme with
“Mind Gardens,” which is one of those hippie numbers that drugs
(LSD?) allow the artist to dispense with harmony, melody, rhythm,
structure, rhyme, story, or any narrative sense at all. Long live
1967! The funny thing is that I always thought the song was called
“Mings Garden” and was about <i>Moo Goo Gai Pan</i>.
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“My Back Pages” is another one of
those Bob Dylan songs that is much better than he played it. And I'm
not one of those Dylan haters, in fact I'm writing the first book
ever <i>about</i> him, and he's sitting across the table from me
<i>right now</i>, and I'm only interrupting our interview to write
this quick review. What many people don't realize is that The Byrds
were actually <i>several groups at once</i>, and one piece of
evidence for that is the cover of this record, with images of them in
the future, after having passed away, returning as ghosts. All dead
before their time, they <i>did</i> return, were accused of inventing
“country-rock”—but never convicted. Actually, I'm not sure if
the back of this record, with a badly done collage of old band photos
(or someone else's high school yearbook, perhaps), was actually <i>like
this</i> (I wish I could include a picture—wait, maybe I can, here
at <i>The Moss Problem</i> [This being a rock writing <i>simulcast</i>
with <i><a href="https://djfarraginous.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">DJ Farraginous</a></i>]) (it looks like drawn on goatees, red
lipstick, and bleeding tears) or if some punk kid altered it with
marker. Because it may have been the inspiration for The Rolling
Stones <i>Some Girls</i>—if the latter is not true.
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The Byrds are and were Chris Hillman,
David Crosby, Michael Clark, Gene Clark, Gene Clarke, Mitchel Clark,
Gene Clarke, Michel Clarke, and identical twins Jim and Roger
McGuinn. An earlier incantation of the band was known as the
Yardbyrds, and here they've revived their hit, “Have You Seen Her
Face.” The song “So You Want to be a Rock 'n' Roll Star,” so
ingrained in the culture it won't come out even with Formula 409 at
least satisfies the “song with 'rock'n'roll' in the title”
requirement for consideration for inauguration into the Rock Hall o'
Fame, in Cleveland, Ohio. Another odd fact is that the band's name
upside down and backwards is “Spjh8.” Someone has released a
record called “Older Than Tomorrow”—but it violated the
conditions of its parole before it could drop. All other facets of
this record and band, including the songs I haven't touched on, the
concept, the attitude, and the execution, can only be described as
<i>seminal</i>. If not kaleidoscopic.</div>
Ray Speenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01168369449587628450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-49012128152125780652018-04-14T17:52:00.000-07:002018-12-14T11:01:24.460-08:00NOTEBOOK EXPERIMENT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
YOUR ANSWER! FROM AN EMPTY SKULL IN A DESERTED AUDITORIUM<br />
In this atheistic foxhole at the Siege of Babylon, of cigarette-machine revivalists, all over Home-Front Supertown----Dogfaces compare wrist-scars and arrest records while the world-champion worst-ever stand-up sit-down wake-up fall-asleep comic ever drowned at sea, devoured by sharks. Thank God.<br />
<br />
Under surveillance for suspected crimes against humanity, I prance, flit, queen my way through deathcamp-sweet-deathcamp. Pop an escalator and we're all smiles for the executioner, pop a decelerator and look out world! We're avenging ageless all-agers striking hyper-dramatic freeze-tag-like, action-figure poses.<br />
<br />
A Mighty Fortress is Our Hysterical Wretch.</div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-80336035506788379642018-04-13T18:46:00.000-07:002018-04-15T06:10:40.568-07:00NINETEEN NINETY-TWO<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We were happy and we were sad. Now I'm an insane man writing in a coffee shop as if I was important, even this, it's not funny or insightful or even coherent. I want to have something to say, I want so bad to get something on paper, to feel justified finally, allowed to be happy and calm, but I am so scared of everything, especially this notebook. I've ripped out every marked page except the addresses of my friends and I've let down all of them. Maybe I could get started by writing a poem or story for each name.<br />
<br />
Check it out, another ugly, awkward, useless idea from the workshop of Darius "At Least He Didn't Kill Himself Today" Smith! Heartsick, sad, stuck, and worthless, yes, but I'm happy. Not kidding.</div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-24577813991068502772018-04-11T01:12:00.000-07:002018-11-15T19:27:30.768-08:00SHOCK ARMIES ATTACK!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I need a haircut but I can't face a barber. My few obligations (psychiatrist, grocery store) loom so large in this eventless time. On the internet all day, reading Jack Kirby comic books, listening to TV noise, ignoring the phone, picturing my demise in a detached way, panicked, daydreaming about drugs. Various Eastern Front World War Two games set up, unplayed. Stark and shabby, this is the situation every day for six months now.</div>
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Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-20078275320962598522018-04-10T01:00:00.000-07:002018-04-13T11:58:45.229-07:00FROM THE DESK OF A DULLARD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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><br />
> personal hygiene, eh? maybe they should only focus on the folks who need it?<br />
><br />
> i stayed in salem last night, no computer, but in a bit i'll send a whole<br />
> mess of emails back to you! i'm balls-deep in compliance issues, which i<br />
> know nothing about. it's a mess and due tomorrow. um.<br />
><br />
> also, again, can i have your address? i'll just send you some pratchett...<br />
><br />
> also, hmn, check out the Discworld MUD site. i've signed up. it's a<br />
> text-based game that uses the world pratchett created as base. very thick,<br />
> hard to master, i'm just figuring it out.<br />
><br />
> david<br />
><br />
><br />
> ><br />
> >5F, snowing steadily, I walked out today on our group study of personal<br />
> >hygiene, I'd reached my limit again. I walked out the door over to<br />
> >Corryville looking for something to buy (because I'm American.) In the end<br />
> >I found two science fiction paperbacks (my drug of choice for years now.)<br />
> >Not Pratchett, alas, only Kit Reed and Harry Harrison.<br />
> >Aside from feeling vaguely ashamed and on the verge of depression (which<br />
> >I'm managing to avoid so far) everything is about the same, group home life<br />
> >is not much fun but it can't last. Please call or write soon. Love, Jeff.<br />
> ><br />
> ></div>
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Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-30014403100727841812018-04-08T00:06:00.000-07:002020-04-17T11:59:12.377-07:00THE ANTI-MIDAS TOUCH<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEXyNs-kXyuWyWnVacvD9rvURyvTvSwLxoBOM_tMbWUSKPIgxdavM7c2cqvsK7gyGo4Uxg74-ou8napHU0hyphenhyphenD9SN7AopWGrCbRA1lg_-L2_DVdUpo6etFaeJmOjMcCt5yIu-b0GGkNIgY/s1600/NICOLR+DEXTER+THREE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEXyNs-kXyuWyWnVacvD9rvURyvTvSwLxoBOM_tMbWUSKPIgxdavM7c2cqvsK7gyGo4Uxg74-ou8napHU0hyphenhyphenD9SN7AopWGrCbRA1lg_-L2_DVdUpo6etFaeJmOjMcCt5yIu-b0GGkNIgY/s640/NICOLR+DEXTER+THREE.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://thenextnothing.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">i can't explain</a></div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-6396660628023649632018-04-07T00:00:00.002-07:002021-04-29T15:01:16.865-07:00THE END OF THE BEGINNING<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "trebuchet" , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.3px;">His Dad fell asleep in the Garage with the Car running. Chicago on the 8-Track sang "Only the Beginning."</sp><br />
<br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif;" />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "trebuchet" , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.3px;">Let's make an Effort to transform this Ordinary Suicide into a Super-Start. For Somebody. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "trebuchet" , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.3px;">The Bees died off Early that Year so Everyone in Town was super happy. Kids never came into Contact with Peanuts or Latex.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "trebuchet" , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.3px;">Shul Neighbor, Barber and Town King ordered the Deaths of Three Jews. His Men searched but None were found matching the King's Description: Lamb's Wool for Hair, Giant Bird Beak for Nose, and Lengthy Fangs coated in Christian Blood.</span><br />
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Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-25127497146297307232018-04-06T13:26:00.000-07:002019-04-18T08:25:11.458-07:00WAR IS PEACE/LOVE IS HATE/CONFUSION IS SEX<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Century 22 Reality, Worthlessville, Ohio.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Our Sporty Spice says, "I wonder if you'll ever know what I'm sure I'll never know, namely t</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">hrill-killing (we reserve all rights to attempted murder for our </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">beloved Cincinnati Police Division,) snuff film enthusiasm (I have </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">starred in way too many 'Real Live Murder' films to consider them anything </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">other than a headache and a paycheck,) and lastly, I do </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">not get high off of AIDS or genital warts or whatever you freaks </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">are into today. "</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Let Sporty Spice Kill at Will (You Can Trust Her! Really!) or Let </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Sporty Spice Be Disappeared! Re-Appeared! Our Ghost Queen! Hurrah for Something, Somehow! As Ever.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">----Directive One, Shock Squad Sporty Spice Ohio, Winter 2017-18 USA.</span></div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-27976412376613704242018-04-01T00:00:00.000-07:002018-04-01T06:04:43.474-07:00NOW! READ THE SEQUEL, '1985' BY THE AUTHOR OF 'A CLOCKWORK ORANGE'!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-59424143923529029692018-03-31T23:59:00.000-07:002018-03-31T14:26:46.265-07:00MADDOX! YOUR FUTURE!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz2t-baz9ldVNNfSYZc3r_8tFJUSxGBEnyEa4inRigRsSfuQhL20VKjnjuYnBKK1-iH5DbVex3bdQ4FJLAJIbl9tKZYAARXkXhTCHmQ5dv6XESB5jRUVCX7HC-0BNcG6HKaBb-73f6zag/s1600/INVADERS+ONE.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz2t-baz9ldVNNfSYZc3r_8tFJUSxGBEnyEa4inRigRsSfuQhL20VKjnjuYnBKK1-iH5DbVex3bdQ4FJLAJIbl9tKZYAARXkXhTCHmQ5dv6XESB5jRUVCX7HC-0BNcG6HKaBb-73f6zag/s640/INVADERS+ONE.jpg" width="424" /></a><br />
The TV stations stop broadcasting, the radio stations sign off, the police force resigns and the fire department doesn't respond to alarms. The electric utilities and the phone companies give up, all banks fail, all grocery stores declare bankruptcy. Teenagers systematically lay torches to the subdivisions, door-to-door salesman take up serial murder, and you're making love to your boss in a fast-food toilet stall. You're finally happy. <a href="http://maddox.xmission.com/">The Best Page in the Universe!</a></div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-42404969226019475522018-03-18T14:00:00.001-07:002020-05-15T03:35:25.553-07:00THE STORY OF THE NIGHT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The sun goes down and I hit the ground and I'm almost happy that's the way I want to be. At 4 a.m. I stood in front of the Coke Machine Now and at the Hour of Our Death. It snowed from two to four then rained from four to six. I laid awake stunned to discover that <i>Catwoman</i> might be the best movie I've ever seen. Witnessed Cincinnati Police Division commit murders to the Harper's Bizarre version of "Feelin' Groovy." Rumored soundtrack to tonight's "Unsolved Homicides" is "Red Rubber Ball" by the Cyrkle. An Ordinary Late Winter Morning in a Worthless Ohio Town.</div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-53255315393947339912018-02-14T03:00:00.000-08:002019-09-28T07:33:12.364-07:00MEET THE BLOGGERS!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Staggering into the park at three a.m., destination: overlook, Jim Gladish, drunk on cooking sherry, snubbed by the ugliest girl at the X Spot, Jim Gladish, rightfully the world's most important blogger and everywhere people laughed if they were paying attention to him at all and over 99% of the time no one knew who this so-called superstar Jim Gladish even was. So, to the overlook! Jump into the void and into the oblivion of eternity! But first a cigarette.... <br />
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No more top thirty unknown sitcoms? One, two tears, then a flood. Jim Gladish knew right then he couldn't kill himself; where would that leave his <i>Jim's TV Universe</i> readers? So he staggered home. These were the Better Days before the new Golden Age. Jim Gladish will inherit the world and give away half in five minutes, yours for the asking. Have at it.</div>
Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4225574282613116307.post-1647938270980072602018-01-01T23:59:00.002-08:002020-10-12T16:26:33.793-07:00CAROLYN SUE vs THE NORMIES<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sue stood under the marquee of the Plush Pussy while sleet screamed down on Super Street. She scanned the poster case: SEE NIPPLES OR DIE was the feelie now playing, a ten-minute loop of "Unknown Dee-Lites" accompanied by the new, secret hallucinogenic vapor pumped into the auditorium. Sue was not a feelie freak. No. Sue was an Abortionist.<br />
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Sleet slowing, Sue walked on, the only pedestrian on the street at 8 p.m. The broken moving sidewalks were endless trip-hazards, walking was "out". Everything was "out" except gazing, watching, and staring. Books had faded out fifty years ago. Now people made a body "do the do" and not much else. A See 'n' Say planet.<br />
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There's no story here only, no novel only novelty, this is social realism,Darius Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00616524676383143481noreply@blogger.com8Papua New Guinea-6.3149929999999994 143.95555-34.625226836178847 108.79929999999999 21.995240836178844 179.1118