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wk 2.5
Date: 2018/02/13 09:19 By: carol Status: Admin  
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[Carol's on the colored tiles, the lights erupting like cannons aimed upwards, and she raises her hands to the mirrorball]

All's I'd need now is some Diamond David.

[Behind her Boligard thumbs in Van Halen's China Town. Carol shakes her ass and stomps her boots. She swings her ass left and right, slams her head up and down. And then she calms her movements. She kneels on the tiles, she goes cross-legged, looking all Zen. The music fades, dies. She breathes deep, and after a few beats she exhales]

I think you're talking crazy, Boli. But I do believe the elite creatives are up and perked and amoung us. Which is fucking scary. So maybe...

[Carol twirls on the tiles]

I don't think you're crazy.
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Re:wk 2.5
Date: 2018/02/13 19:12 By: deplancher Status: Admin  
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[DeP's ironing a velvet dress she bought at the Scarred Seconds Shoppe. She's trying to be light in the task, velvet being so burnable and she being desirous of slipping into velvet for Valentine's Day for no particular reason except that she bought a velvet dress and...]

All the street man's clothes are damp and rife with wrinkles. It's what you can expect when you live in a canvas backpack, wear what you own for twenty-one day cycles, and sleep in a stained sleeping bag on a brick shelf under the lights on Douglas Street.

This [she holds the dress in front of her to demonstrate] is representative of off-street life. You get to know options, even if they're partially built upon...delusion. Stop gobbling edibles like they were plain sugar rubber candies! They're not. They have an effect.

Anyway, I've been listening to The Sherpdogs. Sheepdogs, I mean. They're from Saskatchewan. [hums a few bars of a tune no one recognizes].

Further, the Monkey and I both slept under my desk last night with Rimbaud. I couldn't bear the openness of my hammock after Brenda Anderson's Teeth. There's monsters lurking inside. Doesn't matter if the windows and your eyes are closed. They're gonna gitchagitchagitcha.

Anyway, I'm flicking Teeth up into The Terminal. Tomorrow's my birthday...maybe it'll rain cinnamon hearts or something.

DeP
A Bluelight Dancer/Not a Pocketbook Romancer
of The Floor
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Re:wk 2.5
Date: 2018/02/13 21:06 By: carol Status: Admin  
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Oooh shit, girl. Nice to see you're back. We were freakin worried, sister. And to celebrate, I will down a shotglass of amber, hah...

[And she downs a shot glass of amber, a smile on her face]

And I will dance....

[She wanders out onto the glass tiles, their colors erupting like fireworks as she steps here and there and otherwhere. The lamps glow warm for their life span, and then they go dead. She pulls out the remote to the Bose and thumbs it. Old Man growls from the speakers overhead. Carol slow grinds her ass]

The Sheepdogs, god they're so hippy. But good, they're freakin' tight, sister. And I'm up for a slow grind, cousin.

Wait. Did I hear you say it's your frickin birthday, princess? Cause things happen on birthdays. Weird things, events.
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Re:wk 2.5
Date: 2018/02/14 09:37 By: rockefeller Status: Admin  
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Really?! Valentine's Day! (Mine's Halloween.) That's so... so cool. So apropos. Have a happy one.
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Re:wk 2.5
Date: 2018/02/14 22:04 By: deplancher Status: Admin  
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Really, seriously. Yes. Oui. I got my velvet dress on. I got a fistful of cinnamon hearts. I got two boots full of dancing feet...ooh ooh weeooh..
DeP
A Bluelight Dancer/Not a Pocketbook Romancer
of The Floor
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Re:wk 2.5
Date: 2018/02/15 20:40 By: doomey Status: Admin  
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[doomey throws himself from the pilot's chair, attacks Carol and grabs the remote, and he thumbs in Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out, and he slam dances through the crowd amassing on the tiles. he shakes his ass and stomps his boots and throws his head left and right, throwing elbows. alas, the song is short and he ends up twirling and hopping as the music faulters and goes silent. he stumbles around the tiles for a few seconds, looking around dumbly, and then he sets his bootheels, thumbs in the stones' Slave, and he places his hands on his hips and does his best Mick. slides his heels along the tiles, lipsyncs, pouts, twirls, and he sweats a little. he taps DeP's shoulder and gets in her face]

happy birthday,sister!

[he goes low, swings his knees left and right, and then he goes all Russian, boots kicking out, and he leans back and plants his palms on the old disco dance floor, and then he leaps up and wiggles and raises his hands. he ends up breathing heavy, tapping his left boot tip]

jeez. wonder how old i am. used to be i could dance all night. and all morning. hmm.

[he pulls a pack of pall malls from inside his coat, taps one out and swan vestas it. he sucks in some sweet smoke. he exhales toward the mirrorball. he gazes over to the cherrywood, sees a pile of cap]

damn it.
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Re:wk 2.5
Date: 2018/02/16 20:06 By: carol Status: Admin  
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[Carol scrambles over to the pilot's chair and sets her ass into it, nice and sweet. She shoves the chair back a few feet. She grabs up the pile of capital and leans back in the chair, flopping her boots on the desktop, moving her boot tips left to right]

We've got John Leahy's No Day For a Family Man flapping in the wilds here, cousins. Serve us up some, Mench.

[She examines the capital, her right hand up, index finger wagging left and right as...]
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Re:wk 2.5
Date: 2018/02/16 20:27 By: doomey Status: Admin  
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[doomey remotes in Egg by Bungle, and he steps out onto the tiles and does a few high knee lifts and some spins. he does the spy thing with his fingers from Pulp Fiction, left to right, right to left, and then he stomps his boots and does the mannequin ultra slow, and then goes low and does the lawnmower, his knees trembling just slightly. and now he rolls across the glass tiles, and then he rolls back, and he gets to his knees and claps, bare palm to bare palm, and then he lowers his head and spreads his arms like an eagle. and he holds that stance, quivering at the fingertips. he does a roll, coming up all action hero, scans the Floor. doomey wanders over to the cherrywood, leans his hip on its edge]

so.
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Re:wk 2.5
Date: 2018/02/16 20:46 By: carol Status: Admin  
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So, I've sunk in here low and examined the current capital, and the base of my spine got all tingly and electric, brother. This VC can craft.

[Carol sits up, shakes her head, and she pounds on the cherrywood's desktop with her fists. She smiles]

We'll just toss this up to the Terminal.

[She rolls the capital into a tight cigarette, and she swan vestas its tip, gets it going, and she sucks in some smoke]

Hah Hah.

[She smokes more, and she leans back, the ash hanging]

Fuck. Shit's good.

[She passes the doobie to DeP]
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