Night Mother Preview
God came out from hiding the day the human voice calmed and lay silent for a millennium. Then, as swiftly as he had done in seven days, he built again; this time on a not so fruitful planet where he could once again be feared instead of revered, because, as you well know, reverence lasts only as long as the givers are restrained, and when they are released, reverence becomes sharp disrespect and mythology.
For thireteen millennia, the one true God has reigned over the Universe; what came and made him before is unknown even to him. As time went on, by the third millennium, he realized he was sad and lonely. His individuality could not flourish among the developing stars and empty galaxies, so one day, as he lay on his back suspended in the nothingness surrounding the universe, he began to sing. As the notes left his lips, the matter clumped together in the airless nothing. Purple clumps, blue clumps, hard clumps, balls—perfect balls of diamond blues and disciple reds leapt from his Pentecost tougne. He liked the tune he alone could, and did hear so much, he recited the notes over and over again until the grainuals and little marbles of matter filled the nothingness to his ankles, then up to his knees and elbows, until they reached his neck and he closed his mouth and saw the different balls he created. He palmed one, a swirling ball of embers—from what we can understand, which is very little, he named it “Jenchuia”. He gazed into the fire and discovered that when he thought very hard, the ball would glow with vitality. You see, God, in those days was still developing his power from the unknown, but with each little ball, he grew stronger and wiser. But, he still had billions of little grains; what was he to do with them? Then he understood.
He scooped up a handful of balls and poured them into one swirling galaxy. Round and round the planets spun until they lodged into a holding and orbit about the center. He took another handful of planets and scattered them across the heavens, all over. Unfortunately, he soon discovered that without a star near, they would become dormant and uninhabitable, leaving no place for the seed of life to plant. The stench of death overwhelmed the stars and they spat back defiance in flames. Fumes from the death created acids that ate through the black matter and left swallowing holes; anything near the holes would be engulfed by the anti-matter and would cease to exist. Thus, more planets were lost, and some twinkling stars were dimmed, and as God slowly learned his errors, more and more planets were lost.
Then, God found a galaxy at the end of the universe, It was remote and misty like a fog of war, but it radiated peace throughout the universe and smiled gracefully at every neighbor, welcoming anything that wished for a home. God looked down into his hands. There sat thirty-nine marbles in all. He decided to make the number even and placed, carefully, nine planets near the brightest sun and spun them quickly, watching their revolution. The one closest to the star was “dencture,” then a yellow diamond, “Elentrf,” a sapphire with ice all about it, “Matre,” a blood ruby, “Miach,” “Hontresf” the cloudy orb, then “Santre” and “Oronae” the twin halos, and “Dieu,” born when God’s voice cracked. On all of these he blew and life came from the springs of his mystic pores and his breath carried life as microscopic organisms and the planets began to flourish.
After his placement of these planets, he was left with thirty.
One day, he grew curious of the gem’s taste. He was still empty since only part of his creativity had been filled. He picked up one of the more scrumptious looking marbles and planted it in his mouth. He swallowd. He thought of his lonliness and within moments, a place of empty was filled. Wincing in pain, however, God brought his hand to his head. A headache had sprung itself upon the Almighty. As fast as it had developed, the headache died with a winged, faceless wonder breaking from his skull. It was Michaeia, the wisest and leader of the Pharaz. He gestured his invention before his confused father and God grew love for his creation. He picked up another gem and ingested it in one gulp. He bent over and grabbed his chest for out of his heart came “Eliczha” the phara with great emotion. And God loved him, too. He downed another and from his foot rose “Agila” the swiftest of the phara. And so, from each gem he ingested, came a new and gifted Phara for God to love. They came form his hips, his ankles, his abdomen and diaphram, his wrists, his fingertips, and his spine. For each he suffered great pain, for with that pain came a new and deep love. The final gem he swallowed took affect much longer than the rest. God rubbed his eyes and cried for the first time as the phara slowly settled and grew. He sprang from his iris and struggled to free himself, ang God assisted, It was Illucia born from the wells of lonely. He was the first phara with eyes of his own and saw through his brothers and father with innate admiration and knowledge. God soon became attatched to him and as Gods nothingness grew tangible, his phara became doting. He was almost complete, with his knew sons and companions, his clear dermis tuned gold and he radiated awesomeness from his soul, humbling all and achieving his greatness.
Illucia watched his brothers stumble clumsily for months, relying on their endowments for guidance, but they found nothing but collisions and self deprecation. Illucia could no longer allow this pain in his brothers so he took a piece of God’s golden hair and rubbed it in his palms allowing the dust to ingrain itself deep within the crevices of his skin. He took the dust to his eyes and allowed his vision to replicate on his hands. And then he went to each of his brothers and rubbed their featureless faces, revealing noses, mouthes, tounges, and most importantly, eyes. God smiled upon this gift of gifts and empathy and soon held Illucia as the highest Phara in his kingdom. Illucia sat next to God, his creator, his master, and his father, and helped to solve the conflicts of the winged beauties.
And thus began the tale, of the fog of war, the creations of man, the fall of the beloved, the temptations of humans, the balances of Eloha and Dimanche, and the changing policies of God, the almighty.
Polaroid Stories teaser
Nine had potential. Poor Kate Hudson was gorgeous but had no purpose. Honestly i think rob marshall and the actors did well with what they were given, which was not much. Marion Cotillard carried that movie. She was the only character i really cared about and she had some powerful shit. All the actors were underused or used poorly. One of the (inarguably) the most talented actors in history and eight of the most talented female actresses today were wasted in that movie on forgetful music, a trifling story line, and (largely) in-engaging dialogue. The movie was not saved by the few moments that actually contained some heart. I honestly did not care about the Guido’s fucking sex life. I would have been more interested in his creative process. It should have been a new Amadeus, but it became a stupid melo-damatic swan song over one of the most influential filmmakers of all time. I mean seriously…. they take someone as fascinating as Fellini and reduce him (and subsequently his life story) to nothing but sex- not even the drugs and rock and roll! IN CONCLUSION, Nine attempted to achieve the same gravitas as All That Jazz, but failed miserably in the process, for sex will never, ever hold very much weight or importance. With that said, the *single* dance number was marvelous, the cinematography was of course breathtaking, and the acting, or what we were allowed to see of it was incredible.
Loading time. Rush hour traffic. The Elite: office managers and copy machine whores. If you can see their slip, you know they’re getting a bonus that month. They all reek and crowd, like cattle on a freight. They’ll be gone in a minute though. The American population won’t walk a block to their destination, they’d rather fuck with the riders who actually have a journey ahead of them. Wow, that guy’s in a sauna… yuck.
I just write and observe. A man manuevers his way through the crowd… right next to me… and he doesn’t sit. It’s amazing what people wil do to avoid contact with others. I don’t blame them. With SARS, bird flu, regular flu, AIDS, and tetnis, who would wnt to physically connect with another human being? Seems a little hypocritical though. Tonight this man who chooses to stand and avoid me so fastidiously will go to a popular bar and after more than a few drinks, pick up a “nice girl” and take her back to his place for ten minutes of mediocre sex and find out in the morning she was too drunk to tell him she has the clap. Stinger.
Jack… what a dunce. When he asked about my black eye, I lied saying I hit myself on the same banister that gouged into my back. Even with my continual “stupid me’s” and embarassing laughter, he still didn’t realize that the banister which caused the occasional swollen jaw or bruise, or cut, or burn mark, or the recent black eye was connected to my father’s fist. Jack lives in a dream world… he can’t believe what I tell him.
And now they leave like water through a levy— whoosh! Hurry, let the fat man out first, he’s the most important. Poundage= status, after all.
5 o’clock… I’m not expected home for another hour.
My stop. I don’t want to go home. I never do. There’s no home to really enjoy.
Mom… Shut up!
I’l walk home.
Winter is so often taken for granted. It’s beauty is insurmountable. Who would associate it with death?
I think I’ll take the long way home.
The street is riddled with needles, broken pipes and condom wrappers. A used condom is a rarity, but on occasion, you just might come by one. Aha… they must have been in a hurry. I hear the glass of broken bottles and syringes crackle beneath my shoes and imagine my bare feet. What kind of diseases might I get? Herpes, typhoid, AIDS, maybe? I haven’t seen mom in three months. I can’t. They have her doped up so bad, I don’t even recognize her anymore. Why did I say yes? Why— shut up.
House. I’m hungry. Dad can fuck himself and cook his own meal.