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wk 2.2
Date: 2017/12/05 15:44 By: doomey Status: Admin  
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checking out james alston's bonsai. s'tremely strange. hmm. right now i really want to go back online and watch that new barbara concert. good christ, that woman can sing.

[doomey thumb-nails a swan vesta and lights up a pall mall. he sucks in some sweet smoke]

maybe i can get the Lovesores to open for Barbara. Hm.
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Re:wk 2.2
Date: 2017/12/06 20:11 By: deplancher Status: Admin  
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I travelled the road of twists and mists set out by one VC Robert N. Stevenson, got caught by my own expectations once or twice and came through the other side. One or two semicolons misplaced but who am I? Apparently perfection is a concept practised imperfectly by teasers and geezers, neither do I recognize easily.

Well, what then? Serpents Tongue is left to its whatever awaits fate. It's up to the bare bulb fondling by the Terminali now.

Doomey? You know I don't celebrate the Christmas. Let's celebrate mere existence instead. Let's celebrate (quoi?!!?) 25 years of TQRness. D'accord. It's only...what is it? I no longer remember with accuracy.


DeP
A Bluelight Dancer/Not a Pocketbook Romancer
of The Floor
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Re:wk 2.2
Date: 2017/12/07 01:01 By: doomey Status: Admin  
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[doomey has just now finished stapling (with one last thunderous thonk!) the multi-colored christmas lights around the edge of the cherrywood's desktop. he freezes and looks over at DePlancher, staplegun in one hand, lit pall mall in the other]

um, yeah. DeP.

[he relaxes. he tosses the staplegun over his shoulder and grabs up the tumbler-ful of amber. he sips. he sucks]

i don't really celebrate the christmas holiday, so yes, let's celebrate TQRness. but we have not been around 25 years, cousin. me thinks maybe we've been around for a decade. i'm sure there's records, data. maybe the white-haired, evil-toothed one knows how long we've been around.

[he sets down the tumbler and grabs up the current capital]

so i've been examining James Alston's Bonsai. this cat has some talant, some crafting skills, sister. in examining this capital i was fully freaked out, i was saddened. upside down smile, right? i'm thinking this bastard is in. i'm gonna Terminalize Bonsai.

[doomey dips the corner of a page of the current capital into his tumbler of amber. he shoves the page further, all the way, and it's gone. he grabs up the second page and shoves it into the tumbler, and it's gone. he does the same with the third page. and he shoves the rest of the capital into the tumbler. he seats his ass in the pilot's chair, leans back, the empty tumbler in hand]

that capital soaked up all my amber.

[he looks into the tumbler like a spyglass]

yep. soaked it all up.
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Re:wk 2.2
Date: 2017/12/11 00:38 By: doomey Status: Admin  
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checking out Curious Case of Kevin Klaag by Lyn Perry.

[doomey refills the tumbler with amber. he takes a sip]

we will see, hombre.
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Re:wk 2.2
Date: 2017/12/15 01:16 By: carol Status: Admin  
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[Carol leans in over Doomey's shoulder. She examines the capital. She's good at this, examines at triple the speed of the average bear]

Yeah, man.

[She shoves off the back of the pilot's chair, leans against the wardrobe, checks her fingernails]

You should toss that capital up, cousin. Examines clean, pale king.
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Re:wk 2.2
Date: 2017/12/16 02:06 By: doomey Status: Admin  
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[doomey sets the tumbler down on the desktop gently. he looks over at Carol]

wool, yeah. okay, listen. you're good at this, and i am aware of your speed examining skills, but you must allow the prose to absorb into the skin of your mind, give it time, seconds at least. you need to make a relationship with the capital. shake its hand, savvy? talk with it over a backyard barbecue bird and rib lunch. walk with it down by the lakeside, right? skinny dip with it.

[doomey grabs up the amber and takes a sip. he replaces it gently on the desktop]

oh, fuck it. the damn thing's Terminaled.

[doomey grabs the capital in question and rips it in two, and then he rips what remains in two, and he rips that in two, and he rips that into quarters, and he tears what remains into bits. he gathers up the little bits of capital in his hands, and he tosses it all mirrorballward. the bits of paper swirl and whirl, cyclone upward, rise above the rafters and they're gone, not a single chit left on the glass tiles. doomey grabs up the tumbler and takes a sip]

Lyn Perry's curious case of kevin klaag has been tossed to the heavens. er, not the heavens, but the Terminal, which is nothing like what we think of as heaven. me thinks it might smell of roast beef up hither. and maybe a little of farts.

[doomey taps out a smoke. he thumbnails a swan vesta and brightens the tip of his cigarette. he sucks in some sweet smoke. he exhales, relaxing, easing into the plump of the pilot's chair]

ladies, let me tell you about the slave markets in Africa. s'disgusting, sister.
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Re:wk 2.2
Date: 2017/12/22 02:10 By: doomey Status: Admin  
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[doomey sucks in some sweet smoke. he exhales]

okay.

[he gathers the capital on the desktop, taps it straight, burps]

we'll get to the slave trade going on currently later. and, by the way, we as a worldwide community are totally fucked, cousins. selling people for labor. ignoring the homeless. but that's beside the point. ha. meanwhile, nidhir singh's the reborn has been booted out the fucking Porthole, kicked so hard the last thing it saw when it hit the deluge was its asshole. bye the fuck bye nidhir. right?

[doomey tosses the capital over his shoulder. as it lands on the floorboards behind the cherrywood dozens of ants, big black honkers, scamper in and tear that shit up. they grab the shreads of capital in their maws and run off in different directions. damn, that capital just got learned]
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Re:wk 2.2
Date: 2017/12/29 01:08 By: doomey Status: Admin  
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[doomey sucks in some sweet smoke, spins and exhales, raising his brows, raising his palms mirrorballward]

i love a parade. god damn, i love a parade.

[he grabs up the current capital, and he twists it, his lips twist as well, and his teeth grind]

waddell's The Future We Used To Share is just too damn loose, cousin. i would give examples, but there's too damn many. and so Jack's capital goes underfoot, as they say.

[doomey tosses the current capital to the floorboards. he places his boot heels on the capital and he twists his heels, and he twists his heels, and he twists his heels. meanwhile he grabs up the bose remote and he thumbs in Prince's push it up. he completes his heel-grind, and he gets the frick off his ass, rises, moves over to the glass tiles, and he starts to swing his ass here and there]

bad news. jack waddell's the future we used to share has been twisted into Portholedness. good news is, come on Depster, the dance floor is open, and the new year is really fucking near. i can taste it...

[doomey taps out a fresh pall mall. he swan vestas it, makes it live]

...like sweet smoke, sister.
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Re:wk 2.2
Date: 2017/12/30 02:56 By: doomey Status: Admin  
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[doomey spins and raises his hands, left to right, and he shouts]

i do love a whiskey flight, bitches.

[he lowers his hands, he bends down, touches his boot tips, twists his hips to get a good stretch in, left and then right, with a slight groan]

oh god, kill me now.

[doomey looks around the scene, he spies nothing worth sinking money into, though he would love go Seattle against Atlanta for like four hundred on the dot.
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Re:wk 2.2
Date: 2017/12/31 01:59 By: doomey Status: Admin  
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[doomey looks a little messed up. he sips some amber and sucks some sweet smoke from the tip of his pall mall. he thumbs in Iggy Pop's New Values, and the the speakers up in the rafters throb and shake and pulse. doomey gets up from the pilot's chair and he slides across the glass tiles. he lifts a knee, and then he stomps out a wild beat, spins and twirls, his arms raised, his mouth twisted in a crazy grin]
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