Suspended's thread

[sus]

im back from the pub. what have i missed?

Almost nothing, I regret to inform

 

[luka]

disappointing. i thought something would happen. i felt we had an opening.

 

[sus]

Nope.

I was optimistic about Arcadia, but no one here is familiar with their own nation's dramaturgical history. A real embarrassment.

 

[luka]

Almost nothing, I regret to inform

well i think youre much smarter than then graham so any time you want to talk just call my personal line. i dont think theyre worth bothering with frankly

 

[sus]

Can't keep up is what it is. We forgot to tag the threads [slow]

 

[luka]

the lads

 

[william_kent]

I deleted my post recommending that @Clinamenic do the opposite of @catalog and watch "Rise of the Footsoldier" and tune in to the UK wavelength

 

[Clinamenic]

Who're your favorite chars, besides Scorpy?

Maybe Zhaan. I think she's a unique character and has had a good arc so far.

 

[sus]

Maybe it's a white boy thing to be obsessed with Aeryn. I once had a dream of Aeryn. She's a significant part of my psyche I think. A real sub-monad.

 

[luka]

who is she? post a nude pic if you dont mind

 

[sus]

Once you have given up the ghost, everything follows with dead certainty, even in the midst of chaos. From the beginning it was never anything but chaos: it was a fluid which enveloped me, which I breathed in through the gills.

I am an American, Chicago born—Chicago, that somber city—and go at things as I have taught myself, freestyle, and will make the record in my own way: first to knock, first admitted; sometimes an innocent knock, sometimes a not so innocent. But a man's character is his fate, says Heraclitus, and in the end there isn't any way to disguise the nature of the knocks by acoustical work on the door or gloving the knuckles.

He speaks in your voice, American, and there's a shine in his eye that's halfway hopeful. It's a school day, sure, but he's nowhere near the classroom. He wanted to be here instead, standing in the shadow of this old rust-hulk of a structure, and it's hard to blame him: this metropolis of steel and concrete and flaky paint and cropped grass and enormous Chesterfield packs aslant on the scoreboards. . . .

I was worked like a jackass for the worst part of my childhood, and offered up to climate and predator and vice, and introduced to solitude, and braced against hope, and dangled before the Lord our God, and schooled in the subtle truths and blatant lies of a half life in the American countryside, all because my parents did not trust that I would mature to their specifications in town.

 

[luka]

he chews gum like you, American, huffs petrol fumes, camps out in The Last Chance Saloon, bets his last dime on a throw of the dice

 

[luka]

eats macaroni salad, plays dodgeball, knows what it means to be down on his luck but he doesn't lose hope, oh no, this is America, and you can't spell USA without HOPE

 

[luka]

it was the summer of '68 and my my my Sally Jenkins was turning into a woman there was something about the fresh swellings on her schoolgirl chest that made him feel etc etc

 

[Clinamenic]

I knew you were an American at heart, luke.

 

[luka]

I knew you were an American at heart, luke.

my ancestors were crazed self righteous puritans that fled britain for a better life away from religious persecution after all

 

[WashYourHands]

Mac and cheese is a world of monstrous creations in the home of the braves

Cleaved, artery clogging stacks of stodge. Quality hangover fodder, in fairness. I guess you could call it cheese? Yellow America - mustard, taxis, cheese, cheese related stuff, the sun, Yellowstone, corn, corn everything, Britney Spears (looked very corn fed almost jaundiced)

If there’s a corn god, it lives in the US and it should be consulted in divination blood rites @DannyL

 

[sus]

In the grim dust of twilight, nothing is certain. The spirit expands to fill the empty spaces. A bird cries out in the tarnishing day. Would you believe me if I told you that everything changed, that day in August, when the sky was oppressive and the heat overbearing?

 

[sus]

In the annals of forum lore, nothing is certain. The members make their overtures in tacit recognition of the invincible entropy awaiting them. The clock winds its way around the hours. An insomniac types his way to superficial slumber.

 

[sus]

On the throne of lost children, nothing is certain. A shell of a spirit presides over futures not yet inscribed. The relationships are that of asymmetry; the enthroned awaits a recognition which never arrives.