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Date: 2017/10/19 01:41 By: rockefeller Status: Admin  
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Posts: 210

Rocks used to kind of like Vegas. Years ago. Back when strip casinos still had dollar tables, and comped meals for just twenty minutes of three-dollar action. Back when you could truck on down to Freemont and possibly live to tell about it. Back before they demolished (the YouTube vid of its implosion calls to mind another historical event without the airplanes) the Aladdin. Back before the Bellagio. Before you needed a travel agent just to get from your arrival gate to baggage claim. Maybe it's like LSD. You should try it. But only once. Then it's no fun anymore.

So here's the tale of a young woman, who, headed for LA in search of herself, makes a pit stop in Vegas at the behest of and to party with an old college girlfriend, whose bad influence has, if not shaped then, certainly helped rationalize some of her weaker life decisions. Most have had and have been such a friend.

The prose is rich, descriptive and thoughtful, but the story and characters seemed too familiar. There was potential for, almost the promise of, a girl on girl scene. Rocks hopes his disappointment over its omission hasn't tainted his already blatant subjectivity. The writing reflects a lot of care (although the VC will want to fix the typo where the MC's name, Aida, is written as "Aids") and talent. A tough call. If only it were a little grittier, a bit more graphic... with maybe fewer musical allusions. It's almost like it was tailored to someone else's tastes and expectations. Not necessarily a bad thing. "But it ain't me babe." A hesitant, almost reluctant, no. And respect.
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Date: 2017/10/23 20:24 By: bulldust Status: Admin  
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Posts: 101
Enough. Enough of these hip, hypertrendoid, third-person, present perspectives. Damn them with their soy latte covered pros and super meaningful imagery.

Like I’ve totally had enough. Oh my god!

I don’t mean to sound like the bastard I am, but it feels like someone wrote a best seller and everyone is basking in its style.

Hey, floor people, stop. It’s a trap. Don’t do it. It’s just too much for me.

The Bull types as his head explodes within a tense that is way too cool for anyone to follow.

“The Language of Ghosts” is the story of a brief stop on the path to enlightenment. It’s a classic tale of finding yourself and that moment of epiphany of becoming who you are. The VC uses the song “Riders on the Storm” to anchor us from the beginning and loop it together in the end. You can see how he is wrapping the plot within the pros of a poem. Written from the perspective of a poet, the VC struggles to create poetic imagery to reinforce the theme. However, it doesn’t quite work in some places. Some attempts are awkward and don’t roll through the mind as smoothly as they should:

“She has always been attracted to places like this, drawn to them, these modern-day Meccas, like a willowy moth of a girl to skyscraping lanterns.”

“The night air is like a tonic when she breathes it in, feels it soak into her skin.”

I can see what the VC is trying to do, but it feels overthought. Although I did like some of the cap’s imagery that was not so forced:

“Not blue—more like azure. Or cerulean. Sapphire. Why do I know so many ways to say “blue”? She takes the proffered one. It looks chemical in the light.”

Overall, the flow and language of the cap are fine. It could use a little editing, but nothing too out of place. However, something about it doesn’t connect to me. I’m simply not feeling it. So, unfortunately, no.
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