Wyvern

Nice poem, Ozy. :-) The way that you juxtaposed the words "prey" and "pray" in this really intrigued me, as placing the two concepts side by side made for a very interesting and original parallel. The second half about the tree of "ultimate knowledge" didn't grab me quite as much, though the concept of our minds being "worn" while we're at the tree was interesting and it strengthened the biblical feel of the piece overall. Something about the word "ultimate" in the last line bugged me a bit, maybe simply because it gives that line a higher syllable count than the others and feels a bit wordier. "Endless" might work there, though it doesn't hold quite the same meaning as being the highest and final form of knowledge.

 

Nicely done. Thanks for sharing this. :-)

Meanwhile... under the heights of the Flight of the Fruitbat, under the platform that tops the circle of trees, under the slanted roof of the Magicology Mansion, under the lowly mechanical "Flamethrower Gnome vs. Firemage" exhibit, under the pipes and sewerlines of the Mansion's not-so-magical restrooms, under the IQ of your average XCrawl fan, under even underdog status, there sits a circle of most despicable reptilianoids. King Kowboy, the shortest and ugliest of the bunch, adjusts the plastic Sheriff Star on his filthy cowpoke rags and takes a stand on a plastic head leftover from a shortlived "Half-orc vs. Enchantress" exhibit. A midget amongst his kobold brethren, The King was highly respected for his outstanding number of warts and bad-ass Country Western attitude. He was their natural leader, and had been ever since Konquistador Kowboy had inexplicably hung himself using one of King Kowboy's ropes.

 

"Listen up, ya hounddawgs." King Kowboy gave a loud whistle that silenced the obnoxious chatter between kobolds. He tapped a foot on his stand until all the beady eyes were focused on him. "That's right varmits. It's time that another meeting of the Klassic Kobold Kowboys come to order. Let's start'er up. Kelvin Kowboy, the science report."

 

A kobold with a broken pencil impaled in his ear lifts himself to his feet.

 

"Szienz report iz: toilet water good drink this week, many in bathroom for show. Pipes hot. Plastic cool."

 

"Thank'ye." King Kowboy adjusted his cowboy hat as Kelvin Kowboy went back to licking himself. "Killa Kowboy, the trap report."

 

A one-eyed kobold hacked up a fish bone before standing up.

 

"Trapses set in mansion: low rope snagger, tripwire rope, cross tangle rope, high diver rope, instant lasso rope, triangle death rope, super spinner rope, spider rope, rope support rope, toilet seat rope, torch rope, lamp rope, rope museum coiler, novelty show rope, hidden rope shoelace, ankle kicker rope, elfy masker rope, twister rope, backup idiot rope, backup gnome rope, ropey soap, longer homing rope, giftshop bargain bin rope, twistyflex rope, triple rope bagger, shorter homing rope, human-proof rope, rope of hope, sweet-seeking rope, dope rope, ceiling whirler rope, bull steerer rope, wrist clapper rope, rope keeping janitor tied."

 

"Good. Katcher Kowboy, the victim report."

 

"Victim report for last five month: 3 victim. One escape before we rob."

 

"Hunh." King Kowboy scratched his cheeks and tried to think for a minute, but decided to pass over to a better report instead. "Alrighty. Now everyone's favorite. Klinger Kowboy, the booty report."

 

"Thankee." A chubby kobold struck a thumbs up in the corner. "We bag 6 piece of candy, 8 chewy copper coin, and one half of firework! Kilo Kowboy eat other half."

 

"Yeeeeeeeehawww!" King Kowboy waved his hat around as kobolds cheered over the new booty, then coughed to himself as the shouting faded. "Now that y'all have seen success, let's talk dirty business. The XCrawl has come to Rio Grande, and it's 'bout to be the Time of the Kobold. I want y'all to take a look at this."

 

King Kowboy pointed to a list propped up next to the head. A makeshift toilet scroll listed the races applicable to XCrawl: Dwarves, Elves, Gnomes, Half-elves, Halflings, and Humans. Many of the kobolds scratched their heads and stared, illiterate.

 

"The Kobold ain't listed anywhere here, and it ain't listed in none of them dictionaries either. Heck, I couldn't even find 'Kowboy' in the dictionary! Well, I says they've ignored us for too long. And the time to show what the kobold is made of is now."

 

King Kowboy pointed at Keeper Kowboy, who rolled the toilet scroll down a bit to reveal an elaborately doodled plan.

 

"See this rope?" King Kowboy held up one end of a rope. The rope trailed up to a pipe on the ceiling, where it went too high for eyes to follow. "Just today, Krazy Kowboy braved the bright world to tie the other end of this to one of those roller coaster rides that all them landwalkers are so fond of. They shish-ka-bobbed ol' Krazy up there, but I heard he done right before they caught him. This lil' rope's gonna be our ticket straight up to XCrawl, and there ain't gonna be a soul in the stadium who won't know the strength o' the kobold by the time we're through."

 

King Kowboy snorted proudly and rubbed his star.

 

"Operation XCrawment will begin in 02:00 hour."

The silence of the Cabaret Room is broken by the sound of metal against hardwood floor, screeching in a pitch high enough to cause even the most distant of lurkers to cringe. Wyvern hisses a Racouolettes tune to the sound of the screeching as he drags the circular metal table a few inches further, nudging the Almost Dragonic Brand Broken Bottle Beerkeg Ornaments™ cart out of the way with his rear. The overgrown lizard dusts off his claws and scoots the metal table so that the "Paper Airplane Terminal" sign attached to its side is clearly visible, then positions chocolate figurines of Gyrfalcon and Peredhil near the painted landing strip lines for safety's sake. He places candy corn in the hands of the two figurines to represent tiny signal cones, then clears his throat and raises a speakerphone to his snout.

 

"Calling all pennitesss... the landing field is now open for new Mighty Pen Madlib responses. Remember: the more creative the flight plan, the better. Don't forget that tacky sssouvenirs are available at airport-level prices at the nearby cart - duty free! Hope your madlib response has a nice flight."

 

With that, Wyvern pulls out a large sign shaped like a control tower and sets it next to the landing platform. The sign reads:

 

---

 

1. Name of Female Pennite

2. Name of Male Pennite

3. A Mythical Title

4. Noun

5. Verb, past tense

6. Name of Another Pennite

7. Adjective

8. Verb ending in “ing”

9. A Liquid

10. Adverb

11. A Time of Day

12. Noun

13. A Weapon

14. An Exotic Article of Clothing

15. Verb

16. A Piece of Furniture

17. Plural Noun

18. Part of Body, plural

 

---

 

OOC: Rules listed at the beginning of the thread for those who haven't participated before and would like to. All are welcome to join in.

Thanks for sharing a few of your memories here, Pheonix. At the risk of sounding cliche: life can deal a very harsh hand, and I hope that you've been doing well. At the very least, you know that they led a long and happy life with one another and made a great impact on many people's lives. It's always harder to take this sort of news when it happens suddenly, so here's hoping that it hasn't been too hard on you. Feel free to share more anecdotes about them here if you ever feel like it, as we'll always be happy to listen and absorb your stories.

Captain thoughts to kill and dream

the hole to fill with formless mass,

then pave the pain to stop its spread

and watch the pennites tread.

 

(For a poem spawned from "nowhere," this came out quite nice Xaious. I like the sense of struggle in the words leading up to the conclusion, as you relayed the difficulty of breaking free from a stifled mindset well.)

Good poem. I like how the temptation of the Meth isn't overlooked in the bleakness of the scenario, as the "energize the body" and "white rock heaven" segments seem to have positive connotations despite the dark imagery of darkening lungs and replacing flesh. I like the phrasing of a number of lines, particularly the afformentioned dichotomies and the image of the Meth tube as a "glass dick." The casual phrasing of the fifth line strikes me as a little awkward, mainly because it's followed by the scientific-sounding "brainwaves." The tone of the fifth line does seem to fit better when you bring it back in the eighth line, so perhaps it's a matter of finding a word to replace "brainwaves" instead...

The dirtiest road is dirty cus’ most people’ve walked it. Pops’ sayings were never the second coming of Lym’, but there was a haggard wisdom in them that seemed to stick with Clef as he began walking with Niina the next morning. It was as if all the oxen in Weeslar had been herded just so that he could meet her and spend this time with her. For all the dirt he’d shuffled through his palms, the sight of her trotting by his side just felt like something to dare for. Something to relive. Something to right.

 

“Spots of sun.”

 

Clef turned his eyes to where Niina was pointing. The tips of the Elrai trees rustled under a soft morning breeze, and sunlight fell on the brush below in small dots. The dots appeared and reappeared with the motion of the leaves, moving in a kind of crooked pattern.

 

“The Anarshins say that you can read fortunes this way.” Niina smiled at Clef. “You see the triangle of lights? Ours is favorable, if I’m not mistaken.”

 

“My eye can’t keep track of them dots.” Clef smirked as he stepped over a few fallen branches. Her prediction seemed to calm him a bit, never the less. “So what’s this triangle telling us?”

 

“Well… to be honest, I wouldn’t know. I’m only half Anarshin. Maybe less. Still.” Niina’s tone seemed sullen as she spoke, with a kind of false cheer thrown in as a thin cover-up. Clef wondered if he’d somehow set foot on the wrong side of her soul as they walked along in silence.

 

“Well hell.” Clef finally broke the quiet, scraping a few leaves to the side with his pitchfork. “What do you think them triangle lights are telling us? I’ll believe you. Ain’t gonna know the difference anyhow.”

 

Niina forced a smile in his direction.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe something to do with fearlessness? Overcoming obstacles. I really don-”

 

“Shhh.” Clef suddenly froze in place and lifted a hand, signaling to Niina to stop. They had reached the edge of the Elrai Wood, and there were figures standing out in the grassy clearing that rested beyond the crowds of trees. A caravan of three wagons was parked in a curved line along the grass, and smoke rose from an extinguished fire that several gruff men wandered around. Clef squinted through the sunlight and took a careful step forward, trying to catch a glimpse of their clothes. His nerves loosened when he saw the dingy browns, wide hats, and old leatherhide boots. That hay stuffed at the backs of the wagons told all. Not a grey or blue in sight.

 

“It’s nothing, I reckon.” Clef continued to squint through the sun at the band of people, and Niina seemed to also be watching them carefully. Clef raised a brow at the sight of a tall man that leaned against the third wagon, smoking a long pipe. Damned if he didn’t look just like old “Pushplow” Williams, a work pal of pops. “Maybe lucky.”

 

“Lucky?”

 

“Yeah, maybe.” Clef struck half a smile as he turned to Niina and had a good look at her. Her dress was just as torn and even dirtier since he’d first seen it, but that might go over well as a sign of an accident. Those ears were gonna complicate things, though. “Listen Niina, why don’t you sit ‘round by that oak there for a minute. I’m gonna see if I can’t get us a favor.”

 

“Clef.” Niina stared up at him, but seemed to know in an instant that he was sure of himself.

 

“I’ll call for you if it’s safe.” Clef nodded to Niina, then passed under a low-hanging branch and made his way past a few lonely trees before heading into the fields. Several of the horses grazing around the carts lifted their heads as Clef stepped briskly towards the third cart, and he raised his pitchfork in greeting as the man with the pipe caught sight of him.

 

“Will ‘Pushplow.’” Clef grinned at the tall man as he approached, and planted his pitchfork in the grass. “Fancy meeting you on this windy road.”

 

“Beg yer pardon?” The man stared straight at Clef. His similarities to Pushplow seemed to be gone at this distance. His nose was too big, teeth were too wide. And his voice sounded a lot older, though he didn’t have much gray hair on him. “You sayin’ I’m a plow pusher, boy?”

 

“Naw.” Clef shook his head and bowed it a bit to apologize, though the stringy remains of forest cobwebs hardly made his blond curls look flattering. “Naw, I’m sorry sir. Mistook you for someone else. I reckon I’ll be on my way.”

 

Clef cursed inwardly as he made an awkward turn and began heading back towards the Elrai wood. He was about halfway there when he heard the older man’s voice behind him, closer than expected.

 

“Now wait just a minute, boy.”

 

Clef turned and raised a hand to apologize again, but the man spoke first.

 

“The name’s Redsly, and I’m wagerin’ you were hopin’ for a friend cus’ yer travelin’, right?” Redsly smiled, showing a bit of one of his front teeth. “Well we gets hitchers all the time, and I know you ain’t no bandit with that godawful pitchfork of yers. This grains headed to Salinsway through Edmeer and Lutsville, so if you gotta destination along there yer in luck.”

 

Clef grinned and planted his pitchfork in the grass.

 

‘Happens I do. I got one more person traveling with me, hope you don’t mind? We’ll only be going a short ways, to Edmeer.”

 

Redsly shook his head and smiled, waving a hand.

 

“Always room in the hay. Better grab yer friend now, though, we’re leavin’ shortly.”

 

“Right.” Clef nodded as Redsly turned back to the wagons to help the others load up. He reckoned he’d help them as well, soon as Niina was with them. Had to make up for the kindness… and for those ears. Clef cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted. “Niina! You can come out!”

 

Clef waited for a minute or two, then turned to watch the three gruff farmhands help Redsly load their supplies onto the first wagon. He glanced back towards the oak he and Niina had agreed on. No sign of her yet.

 

“Niina!” Clef called again, louder this time, his eyes fixed on the distant tree. He waited for several minutes before a fear began sinking into his chest. Had it repeated? Unattentive. She’d been unprotected, hiding there. The same mistake, that time when the cattle ran like the thunder of Lymnor himself. That or she’d waited to run herself. He stared at the tree, feeling a bit dizzy as he squinted for any sign of her. He moved towards the wood, calling her name again.

 

“Niina!” Clef froze and breathed a sigh of relief as Niina stepped out from behind the tree. He watched her slowly make her way into the clearing, and crossed his arms as she approached him. “Took you long enough. Come on, we got a ride to catch.”

 

“Got lucky?”

 

Clef made contact with her wide innocent eyes as she spoke. There was something sad about the way she looked at him with them. A deep shade of green cloaking more mysteries than Clef cared to reach into. He was just glad she was safe.

 

“Yeah, lucky.” Clef took Niina’s hand. “C'mon, let’s go."

reverie - I don't know if it's worth analyzing "Borat" for an underlying message, since I highly doubt that Cohen has any intention other than to shock the audience and make them laugh. You're right about the lampooning of America, though, so I suppose you can take a lot of critiques of the U.S from it. I certainly don't think Cohen has anything against Kazakhstan... in interviews, he's stated that the joke is really on people who can believe that the Kazakhstan he depicts is anything even remotely ressembling a real country. He also said that he just chose it randomly as one of many backwater Soviet spots that few Americans or Brits have heard of.

 

Thanks for the new reviews, by the way. :-) Elvina - I actually haven't seen "Animal House," and probably should given your glowing review and the praises of others. Though for the record, "swearing (f-words)/sexual themes" and "college-oriented humor" have always struck me as being pretty much synonymous. ;-p

Wyvern scooted his overflowing garbage-cum-sales cart of Almost Dragonic Brand Broken Bottle Beerkeg Ornaments™ to the side as he spotted Appy bouncing around her Moose at a far corner of the Cabaret Room. The overgrown lizard grinned at the bright birthday ribbons that twisted around the Moose's antlers, and snorted at the "Happy Birthday" blindfold that covered the animal's eyes. The birthday Pen gal and her trusty minion seemed to be immersed in a reversed game of "Pin the Tail on the Fashionless Moose," and Wyvern pulled a giftwrapped package from the bottom of his cart while Appy spun about distracted. He took a deep breath, then rapidly bounced over to the mini-celebration.

 

"Hey, Appy!" Wyvern snagged the back of her shirt with his tail stinger, bringing her hyperactivity to a pause. The Moose snorted and tilted its head left and right, sensing Appy's halt. "I jussst wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday and give you this. Hope ya like it."

 

Appy clapped her hands together upon seeing the poorly giftwrapped lump in Wyvern's claws, and squeed as she tore it open with the voracity of... well, a kid on her birthday. She raised a brow when she found what looked like a large rabbit foot with a handle attached to it underneath the layers of dollar sign wrapping paper.

 

"It'sss an Almost Dragonic Brand Bucket o' Luck Scrubber™, for when the bucket getsss a little dirty from extensive use. Carries carrot scent."

 

Wyvern bit his lip a bit as the Moose sniffed around and licked its lips.

 

"AlmostDragonicIncisnotresponsibleforanygiantrabbitsthatcome

searchingfortheirfoot. Enjoy!"

 

With that, Wyvern struck a quick bow and detached his stinger from Appy's shirt, rushing away from the area before Apaltra could arrive to force Appy to act like it was her birthday and grow up.

 

;-)

 

OOC: Happy Belated Birthday, Appy. Sorry that the post is late!

There've been a number of interesting-looking films hitting U.S theatres as of late, and I recently had the chance to see two of them: "Babel" and "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan."

 

"Babel" is a drama that deals with issues of miscommunication through three interconnected stories. The film's three stories are rather loosely connected plotwise, but this is ultimately a good thing since it gives us a wider variety of issues and settings. The stories occur in Morroco, Mexico, and Japan, and include Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchette, and Gael Garcia Bernal on the prolific actor side of things. Still, "Babel" felt a bit forced to me, mainly because of the way that each of the stories revolves around tragedies piled upon tragedies without the slightest sense of hope. Bleak can be good, but here it felt a bit over the top and I doubt that this'll be a film that'll stand out in my memory down the line. On a side note: Cate Blanchette is reeeaaallly good looking in this film, though you only have time to absorb her beauty in the first 20 minutes or so since she's pretty much soaked in blood for the remainder of the picture.

 

I wasn't planning on seeing "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan" since I've never been the biggest fan of Sacha Baron Cohen or "Da Ali G Show," but decided to check it out after watching several funny Borat clips on youtube. I may need to reevaluate Cohen's past work after seeing this movie... Absolutely hilarious, in the most outrageous and audacious ways imaginable! Cohen really flexes his roleplaying skills throughout, staying faithful to the character of Borat as only an expert comedian could. He also shows that he knows how to go that extra mile to really shock people and send them into hysterical fits of laughter. Much of the film involves interviews and activities with real people rather than actors, and a large part of the fun is watching how dumb Americans react to Cohen's outrageous schtick. It's impossible to really tell which parts of the movie are improvised and which parts are scripted (does anyone know if Pamela Anderson was in on that book signing scene?), but regardless of how they were made they were damn funny. So forgive me for doubting Mr. Cohen's work... at the very least, he's delivered this gem.

The doors to the Cabaret Room slam open as Wyvern barges in, shoving a loaded cart of broken birthday bottle rockets and wagging his tail with the ugliest of holiday cheer. The overgrown lizard sets the cart in the center of the room and glances left and right with a look of anticipation on his twitching snout, only to droop his wings when he realizes that the discussion of green objects doesn't involve wads of thousand dollar bills. Wyvern still perks his head up and sneers, however, as he waves a claw towards the junk on his cart.

 

"My favorite holiday to cccelebrate would have to be Almost Dragonic Brand Brandy Brandishing Day™. It goesss hand-in-hand with yer beloved St. Patrick's in terms of alcohol consssumption, but places less of an emphasis on four-leaf clovers and more of an emphasis on cattle irons. Think 'Idiots Flashlight,' but more pointy... those beloved scars that never heal! Oh, believe me, I speak from-"

 

Wyvern pauses for a moment, then digs through one of his front pockets until he finds a crumpled sheet of paper. The reptilian Elder clears his throat as he unravels the paper, then trails his claw down to around the middle of the page and squints at the word written there.

 

"-the heart. *ahem!* Of course, the trouble with this holiday is that you can never remember when it is, since it's always the last thing you want to think about the morning after. But now, every day can be Almost Dragonic Brand Brandy Brandishing Day™ with your very own Almost Dragonic Brand Broken Bottle Beerkeg Ornaments™! Comes in three exotic designs: 'broken glass,' 'leaky acidic,' and 'holycrapthefuseisstilllit.' Makes a great stocking stuffer for St. Nicacolyte's Day or whatever the name of that holiday was... the kids love'em! 45 geld a pop. Get'em while suppliesss last!"

 

Wyvern grins and begins pointing both of his claws towards the packed "Ornament" cart, but frowns when he's met by a bunch of blank pennite stares. The overgrown lizard scratches his chin for a few minutes as an uncomfortable silence fills the Cabaret Room, then shakes his head and sighs.

 

"O.K O.K, fine, a serious holiday." The overgrown lizard brushes back a scale on his head and snaps a claw. "July 22nd: Mighty Pen Babe Hottywatch. Celebrates the anniversary of Merelas' Mighty Pen Fashion Show, which remains one of the sexiest displays of pennite gals I've seen. I usually celebrate by standing under the ceiling area where I once caught a peep of Salinye in all her glory, waiting for another crack to poke my head through. I often end up snooping around in the middle of the night and attempting to spy on Pen gals, but that part'sss hardly limited to the holidays..."

 

*crickets*

 

;-)

Ouch. I really like this poem, Zadown. From the visceral opening to the extra-sadistic close, it definitely packs a sting. I like the slanted rhyme that connects the last lines of the second and fourth stanzas, as it seemed to tie together the whole torture metaphor well. I also like your use of violent verbs throughout, with "gut" and "whip" standing out to me in particular.

 

Anyway, cool stuff. Thanks for sharing it.

Today, I went and saw Zion I & the Grouch perform with the Visionaries at a free in-store at Rasputins Records in Berkeley.

 

The show took place around a small stage set up in the DVD section of the store, which was a pleasant surprise since Rasputins in-stores typically occur from a balcony area that's not as up close and personal. The DVD area got pretty packed by the time the Visionaries had gathered on stage to perform, and they did a very brief but very good set. 2Mex was definitely the highlight of the group, as he had the

of the bunch and improvised and freestyled a number of his lines, rapping about Rasputins and his drive over to Berkeley amongst other things. Quality set.

 

Zion I & the Grouch came on after the Visionaries, and were also very good though they only had time to perform around three tracks due to time constraints. MC Zion was the better of the two MCs live as he was a little more enthusiastic in his delivery, but Grouch flexed his style as well and demonstrated an interesting taste in kicks amongst other things. I managed to grab one of the stylish "Heroes in the City of Dope" T-shirts that they tossed into the crowds, which was worth the free price of admission alone!

 

It was more of a quick music sampler than an actual concert since the two acts only lasted around thirty minutes in total, but it was definitely good stuff and worth checking out.

This evening, I went and saw the Islands, Subtitle, and Blueprint at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco.

 

Choosing to go to this show was a tough decision, since Kid Koala, Fog, and Grayboy were performing at a nearby venue at the same time. I decided to go to this show in the end since Blueprint has consistantly proven himself a fun act to see live, and I was very curious to see what Subtitle was like concert. I'd never heard of the indie rock band The Islands before, but apparently they have a large following, since the indie rock kids had taken all of the spots in the front row well before the show started and prior to my arriving. One thing that I'll vouch for with this gang is that they have a lot more cute girls than your typical hip hop crowd, but somehow I didn't get the same feel of enthusiasm from them, at least not until the Islands came on. It might have been a bad idea on the part of the show organizer to have two hip hop acts opening for a rock act, or maybe it was just the folks in San Francisco this evening, but there was a certain disconnectedness between the audience and the music that brought the vibe of the show down from the start.

 

Blueprint and D.J Rare Groove opened the show with a typical Blueprint-style mash up of acapellas, impromptu remixes, and old school dance tracks. Unfortunately, he seemed tired and the audience was mostly unresponsive, and the set ended up not being very engaging. You could tell that he was trying to loosen up the audience with a bit of fun, but he talked with the crowd a bit too much and it muddled down his set by the end. It's a shame, since when Blueprint's in his element, he can be absolutely awesome live. This just wasn't his evening.

 

Subtitle a.k.a Giovanni Marks was next to take the stage, and he put on interesting but somewhat unexciting set. Mr. Marks is rightfully considered one of the current L.A stylists (alongside dudes like Busdriver and Existereo) for his original approach to rapping, which consists of a monotone drone that sounds like a machine processing syllables. He's also very creative lyrically, and performed tracks with subjects ranging from descriptions of metro systems in three different countries to his attempt to quit smoking, only to start up again, only to quit again, only to start up again, etc. The trouble with Subtitle as a live act is that his extremely deadpan style of rapping seems to fade into the background amongst a crowd waiting for a headliner act to appear. His style's difficult to digest, and there's nothing he does to make it any more accessible live. That's not to say he didn't have his moments; he did get half the crowd waltzing for one track, with many partnering up with total strangers (myself included!). Overall, though, I wasn't impressed with his live show.

 

The Islands were the last act to perform, and proved to be the best showmen of this evening's lineup. The Islands are a six-piece rock band who have some previous affiliations to the rock band The Unicorns, which accounts for part of their large following. They used a very wide range of instruments in their set, including four different kinds of guitars, a banjo, a clarinet, a synth keyboard, marachas, a tambourine, a violin, and a cello. This was my first exposure to them, and I wasn't really into all of the tracks that they were playing... a number of them felt a little too light and bouncy for my tastes. Still, they had a couple of undeniably killer tracks that the crowds who knew their music previously went into absolute hysterics over. Subtitle also stepped back onto stage at one point for a collabo track, and sounded very good over the Islands' rock stuff.

 

Still, not a very good show overall... sorta bummed that I missed the chance to see Fog and Kid Koala for this. :/ You can't win'em all, though.

 

I might edit some video from this show into this post a bit later, so be on the lookout for it if yer interested.

Good poem, Pheonix. :-) I really like the wording of it, particularly in your uses of "edges" and in the image of everything being equidistant and unreachable. The sea ship styled images definitely gave off a sense of queasiness and unease, and the sky imagery seemed to relay a longing to escape. I felt that there were a few lines where nothing new was conveyed, such as "from everything else" in the fourth stanza, and these lines could be dropped if you wanted to give the poem a bit of refinement. For the most part, I thought it was good. :-)

 

Thanks for sharing this here, Pheonix, and sorry to hear that RL hasn't been treating you nicely. :-( Here's hoping that the rest and the presence of family will be just what you need to level the unsteady lifeboat.

Wyvern pauses next to the Cabaret Room as a familiar twinkle of riches catches the corner of his eye. Neon "detour" signs automatically begin flashing on and off in the overgrown lizard's head. Wyv rubs his claws together in anticipation, then throws his arms in the air and bounces into the room in the hopes of finding some shiny object to claim or barter or replicate and scheme over. He stops short and shakes his head for a moment when he finds that it's Ayshela covered in Mynx's glitter, but claps his claws together as he remembers that it's her birthday.

 

"Hope you have a great one, 'shela." Wyvern scoops up a third of the chocolates from Mynx's plate and crams them into his mouth. "C'mome too thhhyink o *gulp* it, I gotta little gift for you. Hope ya enjoy!"

 

Wyvern pulls a hefty sack of items off of his back and begins sorting through it, tossing miscellaneous trinkets left and right until he pulls out a six-foot mirror. Ayshela squints at the mirror as Wyvern approaches with it. She immediately identifies it as Mardrax's old mirror, only with a scaly crimson border pasted around it.

 

"It'sss interpretive art." Wyvern grins and presents the mirror to Ayshela with pride. "I call it the Almost-an-Image Reflector, cus' it almost reflects one's whole image but then the scaly border getsss in the way and blocks off part of it."

 

"Well, thank you" says Ayshela with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. After a moment or two, she gives in with a slight frown. "Wyvern... are you sure Mardrax was O.K with you taking this mirror? It looks sort of pricey."

 

"Oh, of coursssse!" Wyvern tosses back a claw and laughs. "He gave away a whole bunch of his stuff for free in that big yard sale, you remember? I found all sorts of neat gifts for artful modification in those piles. Like check these out."

 

Wyvern sorts through the sack again and begins singling out a few more items. The overgrown lizard displays an item tagged Mardrax's Top Secret Personal Diary "Of Wyverns and WereApes: A Novel w/ really cool improvised stick figure illustrations by Wyvern." The tiny black "book" also has a note attached to it, which reads "Happy Belated Birthday, Tralla. Enjoy!" Next to the black book, Wyvern sets down Mardrax's Cable Antenna a Makeshift Sharpein Planetary Communication Device, with the note "Happy Belated Birthday, Pillow" attached. Finally, Wyvern tosses out an item labeled Mardrax's Lucky Pencil Case Authentic Cafe Copperwear Carrier, along with the note "Happy Belated Birthday, Lady Celes Crusador. Come visit us some time!"

 

"So, ya think they'll like'em?" Wyvern winks to Ayshela with a curious grin, tossing what appears to be a framed childhood photo of Mardrax from claw to claw...

 

OOC: Hope you had a good one, Ayshela. ;-) And a Happy Belated to Tralla, Pillow, and Lady Celes Crusador... sorry I'm so late with them, I'm not as on top of my RPed B-day responses as I used to be. :-(

Haha! I really like this little vignette, Savage Dragon. :-) You do an excellent job of giving the reader a false impression of what the scene is about in the first paragraph, and really rub it in with "it was supposedly fun." I like how the piece doesn't turn boring after you reveal its real subject, as the contemplations on why Hide and Go Seek is no longer fun were also interesting to read.

 

Thanks for sharing this snippet here. :-)

"Perhaaaps *urp* ...later."

 

The bloated field mouse lumbers forth with a groggy step, a trail of drool dripping from his mouth and a ravaged post-Word wasteland left in his wake. The mouse giggles for a moment as he kicks over Gryphon's obvious "Poison" trap, not smart enough to recognize the effects of Lord Panther's arsenic as it begins to work its way through his lower abdomen. The mouse belches for a moment, then twists his whiskers and clutches at his stomach with a *SQUEAK.* Panther's arsenic was nothing more than a bit of nausea to the mouse's steel digestive system, and Mardrax's arson was only a tiny heartburn... but the field mouse had made a fatal gastronomical error with Elvina's Scotsman. Aside from being an unhealthy snack to begin with, the Scotsman had been drinking the night before, and was singing '99 Barrels of Haggis on the Sheep' while ramming himself against the mouse's innards in a drunken jig.

 

"Perhapsss..."

 

The field mouse rasps for a moment and steps back, unaware that the ashes from Mardrax's pipe had lit the fuse of Gryphon's bomb in his stomach. The mouse freezes up with a pained expression as a loud *KA-BOOM* exits his mouth in a burp, and collapses over as black smoke begins rolling from his nostrils. The Word Associates surrounding the area stare in awe at the giant heap of mouse, only to snap to their senses as they hear a distant voice echoing from within the mouse's stomach:

 

"Accch! Ye ruined me kilt!"

 

;-)

 

OOC: If anyone would like to retrieve their swallowed words now that the mouse is dead and gone, I have them saved in a document on my computer. Then again, since the thread has remained linear, I doubt that there'd really be a point in getting them out of the muck of the field mouse's digestive track. Thanks for the four-course meal, anyway!

Nice poem, Regel. :-) The subject matter and emotional base of the poem are strong, and I like the elegent manner that you portray the woman in the last stanza. The first two lines of the poem also really grabbed my attention, and made for a very strong opening.

 

I thought there were points where the rhyme scheme resulted in a few words and images that felt out of place, particularly "despair on a shelf"... though if the shelf refers to a shelf of medication, it might be interesting there. I also felt that there were one too many adjectives in the last line of the poem, and you might consider dropping one of them or moving one of them to a seperate line.

 

Very nice, overall. Thank you for sharing this here. I hope that you're doing well, even with the sad insinuations of this piece. :-(

Hiding poetry?

Break it into simple words

and feed the field mouse!

 

Having advocated this resourceful use for discarded poetry, Wyvern seals the last of the boxes of Almost Dragonic Brand Cuss-tom Made Field Mouse Chow™ and begins shoving them in the direction of the Cabaret Room. The overgrown lizard double-checks for any seasonal words, descriptive images, or elements of juxtaposition in the reported "haiku" zone before acknowledging that the area is dry, and pressing onward.

 

;-)

Just want to quickly say that there's no need to apologize, and that I wasn't planning on focussing the thread's direction on Lynch or anything - was just curious to see if any other pennites had opinions on his work. :-) Like I said, his films are wildly interpretive and there are people who even find them funny rather than frightening, so my apologies if the recommendations don't freak you out (they're excellently directed, regardless!). Personally, his work tends to scare the hell out of me.

 

Thanks for sharing your impressions of various horror movies, by the way. :-) I didn't realize you were such a horror movie buff! I haven't seen the original Exorcist, but have heard from many people that it's frightening, so maybe I'll check that out one of these days. I haven't seen the original Evil Dead, but I did watch Evil Dead 2 with a friend and we both found it hilarious all the way through. I heard that Bruce Campbell decided to make the sequels of Evil Dead more deliberatly funny after realizing how awful the first one was, though.

 

Out of curiousity, did you see Stanley Kubrick's version of "The Shining"? That's still the scariest flick I've seen, overall... that film made me extremely nervous around dark bathrooms and bathtubs for at least a couple of months! Great movie too, really stirring imagery.

"Perhaps later" squeaks the field mouse, savoring the taste of Mardrax's bait but carefully gnawing off the attached chord and seperating it from Panther's intricate trap. The huge mouse sticks out his tongue at the feline pennite in a natural display of species opposition, then munches on Savage Dragon's "snap" and continues searching for tasty word snacks.

First of all, I just want to take a moment to thank folks for sharing their recent thoughts on movies here. :-) It's always interesting to hear what you have to say about films, and I always enjoy reading your reviews. Mynx- I might check for The Devil Wears Prada on DVD at some point under your recommendation. I have the same fears you had about it, but also the same respect for Meryl Streep. Appy- for a minute there, I misread and thought you were referring to that old Travolta flick "Blow Out"... Johnny Depp as a drug lord? He seems to adapt well to different roles as an actor, so I'm sure he pulls it off nicely. :-)

 

Over the course of the last couple of weeks, I've been exposing myself to a bunch of David Lynch's earlier films, which I thought would be an appropriate subject for discussion with Halloween upon us. To those who haven't heard of Lynch's works, they're essentially nightmares put to film. His movies are probably some of the most abstract and difficult to understand in U.S cinema, so if it's a typical sense of plot and character development you're searching for, you're bound to wind up frustrated watching his stuff. Having said that, there's something to be said about his bizarre films.... something deeply unnerving and, in my opinion, really frightening. I think Lynch has a real grasp of how nightmares bend and weave, and the kinds of imagery that really scares us in our sleep. The typical horror movie will make me nervous and cause me to jump or shut my eyes a couple of times, and then I'm completely fine once it's over. David Lynch's films, however, have haunted me and kept me up at night, sometimes long after seeing them. Maybe it's because the subject matter he deals with typically involves things that we choose to block out of our minds, rather than some common horror movie convention we all know and suspect. Or maybe it's just that he knows how to really set a mood of dread in his films. It's hard to pinpoint - many of his films aren't even considered horror, since he often adds elements of comedy, hope, sadness, and drama to his works, but it's hard to argue that they're not dark and sadistic at their core.

 

Anyway, the most recent Lynch films I viewed were: "Lost Highway", "Eraserhead", "Wild at Heart", and "The Elephant Man."

 

"Lost Highway" (1997) and "Eraserhead" (1977) are 100% David Lynch, as described above. "Lost Highway" starts with a couple recieving anonymous video tapes of the outside of their house in the mail, which eventually escalate to tapes of the inside of their house and tapes of them sleeping. Things spin out of control in an impossible-to-follow yet deeply disturbing way as the film progresses. It's pretty much impossible to make coherent sense of what happens by the end of the film, and Lynch doesn't offer any explanations for anything at its close, but the scenes follow through each other like an intricate nightmare-scape, and Robert Blake's character creeped the living hell out of me. "Eraserhead" features an even more abstract dreamscape, which seems to ressemble a post-apocolyptic world of some sort. Don't let the black and white or release date fool you: this film contains horrifying scenes and images that easily rival anything being released in current horror movies. The film mostly deals with a man who has to care for a mutant baby that his spastic "wife" left him with, and features large spermozoid worms and a lady with disfigured cheeks that performs from within a radiator. Seriously disturbing stuff... the final scene will scar you, if you get that far.

 

"Wild at Heart" (1990) and "The Elephant Man" (1980) were very different from the films that I'm accustomed to from Lynch, and didn't quite scare me like his others. "Wild at Heart" struck me as mostly a comedy/Wizard of Oz homage, with a few disturbing moments sprinkled thoughout. I definitely found the film funny and eccentric in a way that only Lynch could deliver, but it may not be the best representation of his works to those who aren't familiar with him, and it probably wouldn't suite a Halloween fright-fest. "The Elephant Man" is a film that deals with the life of John Merrick, who was considered the ugliest man alive. This one left me feeling a bit disappointed. Lynch was hired to direct this film and didn't conceive it, and it shows in the movie's lack of surrealness. It does feature good acting (young Anthony Hopkins) and has its share of disturbing moments, but it definitely felt more like an old Hollywood drama than an epic Lynchian nightmare. It probably falls at the bottom of my Lynch movie list... though for the record, I didn't bother seeing "Dune."

 

Anyway, if I had to rank David Lynch's movies in order of preference, I think it would be along the lines of: "Mulholland Dr.," "Blue Velvet," "Lost Highway," "Eraserhead," "Wild at Heart" and "The Elephant Man." Out of those films, "Mulholland Dr.," "Blue Velvet," "Lost Highway," and "Eraserhead" all really scared me.

 

If anyone wants a tiny taste, here's the official movie trailer for "Lost Highway," courteousy of youtube:

 

Any other pennites agree on the subject of Lynch? What are some films that really scared you? (Kubrick's "Shining" is probably still the scariest I've seen, personally)

I really like how you used the concept of this poem, Curious Mylo. :-) The blank canvas metaphor can seem played out when used in an uninspired manner, but the way you incorporated it in this poem made me pause and think a couple of times and held my attention. The most interesting part of the poem to me was the section where the narrator discussed what she did when she tried to give up on her canvas, as the thought of her hiding it and claiming another was hers struck me as a very interesting concept in the context of the metaphor. Having said this, the ending of the poem was a bit disappointing to me, maybe because it seemed more predictable than the rest of the piece or maybe because it felt a little disconnected from the rest of the poem. Did the narrator experience some form of hardship when she tried to get another canvas or claim that another was hers? If you expanded upon that point, the lesson that the poem tries to teach at the end might fit better.

 

Very nicely done, overall. Thanks for sharing this poem here.

I agree with the others that this is a very nice poem, Regel. :-) I think you use the moon metaphor effectively throughout, and that it's incorporated in an original and evocative way. I particularly like the stanza about being "Strafed and catered," as the shape and feel of the moon seem to relay emotional wounds and desolation well. I also really like the reference to people seeing what they want in you, though I wonder if the last line in the first stanza might work better as a seperate sentence beginning with "A"... something in the wording there bothers me, currently.

 

Very well done, once again.