Oct 16, 2014

Like Two Outsized Calculators Making Love in a Broom Closet

Malcolm shook the fleas out of his beard and knocked on the Minister’s door twice, careful not to dislodge the plaque that read

ONLY ON THURSDAYS

held not-so-fast by a treacherous nail. Fallen twice this week already.

Buzzing, and shuffling of pointed feet. “What is?” somebody asked, invisible. “What is?”

Thousand Year Stare
by John Stortz

We invented language from the twofold need to communicate and play. Fiction without experimentation lacks color and personality. Sometimes you can take personality too far and write, as Beckett did, beautiful novels that lead nowhere -- prose poems mistaken for novels. The text is mesmerizing but Story, largely absent.

Or you can go to the other extreme, color without personality, which you get with the Dungeons & Dragons books, the Harry Potter fan fiction, where plot serves some obscure wish-fulfillment and the teller offers grotesquerie in place of transformation. 

As for my post title today, this Nine Inch Nails remix sounds like two outsized calculators making love in a broom closet. That's what Malcolm wanted to warn his superiors about. Randy calculators. Unbeknownst to him, the Minister's staff had already been turned into existentialist mosquitoes, down to the last one.

I'd like to see a mashup of Murphy and Mansquito. Someday.

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