Current Residence: the basement office
Skin of choice: Floppy sweaters
Personal Quote: "I would have a nervous breakdown, but I don't have the time!"
CityOnce you walked out uninvited on the streets of Manhattan. The streets, they heaved and retched and spat you back out.City by renaissance1912
This was at the Citys orders.
You lay regurgitated on the sidewalk, with a violent crack in your spine. You were shaken like a whip. The City, she stands over you wearing an expression of distaste and grim satisfaction. Inaudibly she speaks into her cell phone. You raise yourself up on one elbow and discover that the Port Authority looks on gleaming above you, a silent bulky monster in the dark. It stands as witness to your distress. Shh, it says, I sympathize, but dont tell her.
A large neon sign sings WTF. The City holds a bag of take-out Chinese food. A melon-colored pool shows through its plastic: some of the sauce is leaking.
Well, we have to keep the customers alive, I guess.
Shes talking on her cell phone and you look up at her and she looks at you like: Yes, youre worth a small amount. Indifferent appraisal, practical face
HagiographyI said: tomorrow lets meetHagiography by renaissance1912
at this corner, I can buy
you a drink and well talk.
About what? you said, looking
beyond me, your eyes on the lights
of the Port Authority building and the signs
that kept trying to tell us
Eighth Avenue. All the time I kept thinking
those shrimp were so good, that we ate
at that bar in the theatre district. This still is
the theatre district, again but that was
the first flush of twenty-one, swaying
arms linked through the streets and punch-drunk
on a lack
of limits, though I poured my drink
into the ficus pot. Ive never liked alcohol
but the shrimp that night tasted
like cliché transformations, adolescence
transcended, the self
to the fore. I always thought you
were progression, and I would be stasis
till yanked from my concrete by you, my feet ripped
from the ground. The sickening smack
that the freshly-poured sidewalk would make
as it let go my soles. But I guess you
got tired of me. You got too far ahe
Endings1997Endings by renaissance1912
It was kindergarten. We were sitting under a painted rainbow.
You could change it all now, you know, she said.
I looked at her. Change what? I said. My face was smudged with crayon and little-girl curiosity.
Your life, she said. You could change what happens later. In a few years you wont like it very much. Do you want to change it?
Why? I asked, worried. What happens?
She shrugged. Nothing much, really. Nothing horrible.
My brow creased. Again and again, now, I watch that brow crease, watch the wrinkles appear on a smooth clear forehead.
Well, I said, whats the problem, then? I was about to discount her, to write off her words as just another unfulfilled prophecy. I looked up to where the birds were wheeling in the sky. White on blue: you had to squint to see them.
She made her way along the ledge beneath the mural, alternating her steps, one foot on, one
Ignobility: II. STYLOBATES MARMOREUSIgnobility: I by renaissance1912
The pedestal was empty. To its side
stood she who just had occupied the stand
a plinth of smoothest marble, white as wings
of birds, the flocks that wheeled overhead.
She was Marie of Datoíri, chief
ambassador for all that region known
as the Imaginary Planets faméd
clime. This league of five small planets had
seceded, as we know, from all the rest,
so that it might provide a haven and
asylum for all those in discontent
with customs of the ordinary world.
Its institutions and its people strove
to uphold standards of integrity
and to preserve, by way of their own lives
and thoughts, the qualities its founders had
felt to be missing in the world at large.
Lamented most was loss of decency,
nobility a resolute commitment
to ones own ideals, despite the world.
On the Imaginary Planets, then,
this concept of nobility was held
as paramount, above all else.