We are lost on the Metro,
it is a complex ordeal. Amelia has to get back to Jersey before it gets too late,
or else her parents won’t pick her up from the Trenton train station.
She isn’t too keen on walking home from the middle of the city.
The maps here are baffling,
to a yorker, they are probably second language, but they make as much sense
to me as multivariable calculus, which isn’t much.
Different strokes.
We figured it out after pestering a few impatient yorkers,
and some patient ones too.
We have to take the 1 Train up from Chambers St,
to 34th St, and then hunt around for Penn Station, because
we can never find it, and we always say that it’s because it’s
underground.
Maybe if it was above ground we could find it sometimes.
I guess yorkers find it ok.
Showing posts with label drafts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label drafts. Show all posts
Friday, September 11, 2009
Danny
Labels:
character development,
drafts,
prose
Cloyd & Sis
Cloyd and his Sis are running up a hill, away from their homeCome on, Cloyd! Are you coming or not?
What if Ma finds out?
Ma's DEAD now, Cloyd. If she DOES find out, she cain’t DO nothin.
Sis sits on a tree stump for a rest, far away but still within sight of the houseoh BOY does my toes smart, Cloyd. Let's us sit here a bit. I can still see the house.
We see a Putz, long basset hound chasing after them up the hillHey, it’s Putz! Putz is coming, sis!
Well, beckon he BEGONE! We dun need PUTZPRINTS followin us aroun.
Cloyd pets the dog intentlyPutz ain’t gonna LISTEN, he’s too DUMB.
Sis stands up again, resolvedWe should get goose-steppin’, if we ever want to see the COSMIC KINGDOM!
-
Sis and Cloyd walk into a midwestern townWhere ARE we, sis?
It’s BOOSEVILLE, Cloyd! Ain’t you ever take ‘RITHMETIC?
Sis and Cloyd are at the counter of a malt barOne MALT; ditch, please.
the man behind the counter eyes them suspiciouslyYou kids lost?
("bug juice fer me", orders a stranger in the background)Nah, we’s just on the run. Chasin' the BIG BIGNESS, an' all that.
Yer ma know you’re out?
We ain’t GOT not MA. She’s DEFUNCT.
("and the baby", Cloyd reminds her)She an’ the baby BOTH defunct.
The ANIMA MUNDI done STRUCKETH DEM DOWN!
~
sitting outside, somewhere in townSis, you sure is good at upsetting people.
Those folk know they've got it comin'.
How you figure, sis?
BIG MAN done tole' me, Cloyd.
("yuh?", asks Cloyde)BIG MAN'S a BIG COSMIC MAN, y'know.
I know.
Them fellas just don' wanna HEAR IT.
Sure can't FEEL IT, neither,
THAT'S their PROBLEM!
Why'd ma and baby die, sis?
SYPHILIS, bonehead! Ain't you never take no GEOGRAPHY?
~
a police officerYou kids lost?
I beg your PARDON--
we're FOUND.
by the SUPRAMUNDANE
Labels:
drafts,
outline,
storytelling
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I am on a train. The man is asking for a ticket, but I do not have a ticket.
"Please exit the train at the next stop, sir."
But I do not know where the next stop will leave me.
So I stay on the train.
"Sir, I will not ask you again. Please leave the train immediately."
"I do not know where I am, thought. I do not know where this stop takes me."
The man is growing agitated. The man makes a call on his headset.
Labels:
drafts,
prose,
storytelling
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Cycles Comic, draft
Here is a draft of the cycles comic, which I've all but given up on. Also, a rambling prose illustration page on the right.
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