JamesSavik

That's better writing than half the commercial groups are putting out 3rd eye.

Kiss Yes Rolling Stones Rush (many Times) Foreigner Cheap Trick AC/DC Aerosmith the Police Golden Ear Ring Motley Crew Ozzy Monsters of Rock at Memphis (wish I could remember it, too wasted) Metallica

It is said that brevity is the soul of wit.

He's right you know. It's a great forum. I lurked here for weeks before I posted and now they can't get me to shut up. :smt024

Over the main entrance the words, CENTRAL LONDON HATCHERY AND CONDITIONING CENTRE, and, in a shield, the World State's motto, COMMUNITY, IDENTITY, STABILITY. A Brave New World, Aldous Huxley =============================== You saw many references to Huxley's book. If you haven't read it, you don't have to buy it, just pull it up online. Alpha+ from "Introduction" refurs to the "top of the line" human. There are many references to this work both direct and indirect. Huxley's vision of a genetically engineered utopia is a nightmare. Community, Idenitity, Stability means in pratical terms Conformity, Alienation, Stagnation. Alphas as thinkers, Betas as middle managers, Gammas as factory workers and Deltas to take out the trash: high tech feudalism with designer people. People reduced to mere bits, parts of the machine, disposable and replacable as easily as you might change out a bad alternator or a leaky dishwasher. That's DEHUMANIZATION and it's exactly where we're headed at the speed of technology unless we can find the moral courage to see it and change course as a society. Society is already well on this course. Vision has never been the stength of nations. That is the province of its people and thinkers and we've got work to do. The work of rediscovering our humanity and reclaiming humanism as and ideal.

Dude- Broken is now edited and ready up to chapter 12. 13 is in the editor's inbox and 14 is cooking. As Dewey has no objection, if you want to mirror Broken here at awesomeguys, I would be honored. There is a lot of talent and some very good stuff here. I am writing a short story specifically for awesomedudes as my "try out" in which I experiment with shifting POVs. When it's ready, I'll send it to you and you can let me know if I made the team. -James

A new and innovative program that is both progressive and visionary on the cutting edge of the wild frontiers of education!

Per angry PM: Yes- Suburbian Daddy is an asshole. I was afraid that somebody might see his attitudes and give up on the poem before the end. If you really understand him, he's pathetic and weak. He's afraid. We scare him. He doesn't know how to handle us. He wants to click is heels and go back to Kansas where it's the fifties again and everybody looks like Leave it to Beaver. He's angry and he keeps it inside for the most part. He only let's his poison out in small doses and only for the people that he loves. I'm sorry that it upset you. If you know me at all, you'll know that hurting anybody's feelings is so against my nature I have a hard time doing it even when it's in my best interests. Please reread it and stay with it until you get to the last stanza. You'll understand. I'm going to put a bigot alert on the poem.

Awe man. Not with the puppy dog eyes. That always works on me. "OK." I killed the ignition and set the parking brake. The houses out on this part of Porter's Chapel were ante-bellum. I was very impressed. It was a two story brick house with white columns and trim. Old roses climbed up trellises and wisteria filled the air with a delicious fragrance. As I dislodged from the Z car, a guy my size never simply gets out of a Z car, I asked, "Hey Conner, I'm soaked too. Could I change." Conner said, "Oh sure, no problem." I grabbed my gym bag off the back seat and followed him up to the house. "Conner, this house is amazing." "Thanks. I'll let you help me paint it next time." I laughed as he fiddled with the door lock. "I'm not sure that it's that amazing." The door opened into a beautiful Victorian styled entry hall. "Well, maybe it is after all."

Chapter 12- Collateral Damage is now posted.

I shook my head and laughed. "I'm glad it worked out for you. How far up 12 do we have to go?" Conner replied sullenly, "First right past the Dairy Queen." "OK. I know where we're going." The rain had diminished to a mist. Summer storms here are like that but don't expect it too cool things off. It will just turn steamy. Conner shifted around in his seat. "Jimmy, can I ask you something?" "Sure." "You've got this killer rep. Nobody wants to mess with you. You've fought everybody once or twice. Now you're all let's give peace a chance. What's that about?" I sighed. "Yeah. I've fought a lot. Way too fucking much. Hell, I've got scars on top of scars. It gets in to your head. When I go to sleep at night and dream, do you know what I see?" He shrugged. "I'm fighting. All the time- and I mean all the time. I can't get it out of my head. The only way I can get any decent sleep is to get so stoned I'm unconscious. You know how my Mom wakes we up? She shouts at me from across the room. She's afraid to wake me out of a sound sleep. Dude, I'm just 20 and I'm fucked up like I've been in a war." Conner whispered, "Jesus." "That's what its about. You seem like a nice kid. I'd just want something better for you than that." Uncomfortable silence. Dairy Queen. I downshift to take the turn. Conner said, "Fourth house on the left." I pull up in the driveway but I don't kill the engine. Conner looked at me and asked, "Come on in and have a sandwich." "I don't know. I kinda lost my appetite." He gave me a hurt look and said, "Please?"

ROFLMAO

Once Conner figured out who I was, he was all smiles. I wasn't proud of the incident with Brandon Farmer. Sure, he threw the first punch but he suffered under the mistaken impression that all gay guys were pussies. Truthfully, he was badly outclassed and he learned a hard lesson. I had trained hard in sports for years and had learned how to fight the hard way. Rednecks like Farmer only understood one langauge but I spoke it fluently. There was a price to pay for having the reputation of a badass. All the dumb fuck wannabe's like Farmer wanted to put your head on their wall. I didn't want Conner to think that beating some jerks ass made you a hero. I did it because I had no choice. I did it because it was all I knew. "Conner, I know that Farmer was a jackass and he pushed around a lot of kids but in a way tying up with him made me just as big a jackass as he is." Conner looked shocked, "No way man, Farmer had it coming. I was in eigth grade that year and he was a senior. He stuffed me in a garbage can every time he saw me. It was like a big joke to him but guys like him made me hate school." I didn't want to leave it there. "Conner, the truth is that I lost control. The truth is that I could have taken that fat fuck with one hand tied behind my back. The truth is I got suspended for three days because I let somebody that wasn't really worth it yank my chain. I didn't do anything to be proud of." Conner sat thoughtfully for a moment as we passed the country club. The summer storm was losing some of its fury. As we approached the four way stop sign at highway 12, Conner said, "Let me tell you a different side of it that you might not have thought of. After you thrashed Farmer, he lost his confidence. People lost their fear of him and started standing up to him. He quit fucking with people. I didn't have to walk around school smelling like garbage."

The New People Introduction The Suburbians Rats Racing A Day in Surburbia Suburbian Daddy Suburbian Mommy Killswitch Subdivisions

I love it Graeme, it's a great story. I didn't need a list of characters for NB. I can list them all from memory. I'm not being PUSHY, just ENTHUIASTIC!

The New People are the Suburbians that exist within the cozy, or not so cozy, confines of their subdivisions. Within the context of history, suburbs are a relatively new concept that has evolved within that last couple of hundred years. These "bedroom communities" have become the cradle of our culture. Two great forces are at work within this paradyne: the relentless advance of technology and mankinds self imposed social stagnation. Suburbs encourage and enforce conformity. They are not an easy place to be different. Just try painting your house purple and see how fast some jackass from the homeowners association shows up with a restraining order.

Subdivisions Goths and geeks and nerds and junkies, Jocks and brains and preps and flunkies, In their head and in their class, Cookie cutter identities with a hall pass. Cults and schools with their own rules, Stoners and thugs and plain old fools, Each with their place within the order, Careful to stay within their borders. Where do you go when you don?t fit, Within the lines, within this shit? Do you dare to deviate? Do you dream to be great? What does it mean to upset the order? Dare you step across the borders? To break these stupid unwritten laws, That keep us in their feudal thrall. Break the chains that bind in pain, The greatness that lies within, Do you dare to risk angry derision, By stepping outside your subdivison?

Killswitch Hash, speed, downers and cocaine, All useful for easing the pain, Acid, booze, valium and weed, Helpful for when you feel the need. But what is it that you really want? Does it even have a name? Is it pain or loneliness, Or someone else to blame? Can you even talk about it, That pain inside your head? Can you name the nameless fear, That fills you so with dread? Do you really want an answer? To that which you already know. Be careful, you might be human, A few emotions might even show. Stagger to work and sleep throgh class, Finding solace at the bottom of a glass, When you can't take the pain, Take some more and shut down your brain

Suburbian Mommy Rolling along in her SUV, Teaching her kids their ABCs, Careful not to make any waves, Making sure her kids are saved. Cheeks of rouge and perfect hair, Brightest of smiles and infinite care. Soccer balls and stains of grass, Always sweet and never crass. Ever dieting to keep her shape, Perfection is a heavy weight, Over time it begins to wear, Ever more difficult to bear. Under her perfect mask, In silent desperations grasp, She can not cook or clean enough, Perfections demands are mighty tough. So mommy finds a little helper, In which she finds a little shelter, In valiums sweet embrace, Or a vodka slumber into grace. At first it is not such a bother, Who could begrudge a nap to their mother? It helps her make it through the day, Perfection has a price to pay. Slowly she slips away, And sleeps away the entire day, Nothing matters much anymore, To the kids she?s just a bore. Things fall apart ever faster, Mommy has a brand new master, Perfection now fades into the past, Mommy is lost in a deep shot glass.

Bigot Alert! Suburbian Daddy is not a nice person. Stay with this poem to the end. You'll understand. Suburbian Daddy Jews, junkies, mental flunkies, Fags, and all sorts of freaks, Every day they get more spunky, They even walk the streets. Geeks and freaks and fags and drags, Is this really modern progress? Not that I could give a damn, As long as I am a success. Every day I retreat to the ?burbs, Away from the slime and the scum, To where everything is as it used to be, And I won?t get hasseled by bums. Back in the day before the decay, Laid waste to the world I had known, Everyone looked and thought the same, Before the collective mind was blown. In my suburban hideaway, Safe from the world and all of its strangers, Safe with my ignorance and prejudice, Insulated from the dangers. Fear of change and the pain it brings, Cowardice builds bigotry?s prison of lies, Unless courage to escape is found, You become what you dispise.

A Day in Suburbia The plant down the street had an accident with nuclear fission, Something is wrong with the Pinto's transmission, There's a documentry on the tube about Viet-nam, There's a letter in the mail from Billy Graham. I don't care for spiritual awakening, It's just another drug that people are taking, That makes the load easier to bear, So they mow their lawns and cut their hair. There is a big meeting of the P.T.A. They want to ban books that make kids gay, They gather at the river to burn their intellect, So that dangerous ideas won't infect. What is it so dangerous to learn, That they would rather see burn? Could it be that people might see, That it is possible to think and be free?

Rats Racing Fat cats, mall rats, old bats in expensive hats, Kids in cars, jocks in bars, wanna be movie stars, Dead heads, red heads, hot lovin newly weds, Old men, young skin, trying out a brand new sin, Cops in cars, sushi bars, hippies with old guitars, Chinese, Japanese, anime sluts on their knees, Avenue, Revenue, a river place with a view, Young punks, old drunks, opportunistic political skunks, Stylish hills, favorite pills, summer time standing still, Alley cats, spoiled brats, the morbidly fat, Network news, nightly blues, trailer trash in Italian shoes, Big wheels, fast deals, corporate licenses to steal, Bright lights, urban blight, sneaker inspired fire fights, Liquor stores, cheap whores, serial killers keeping score, Money madness, chemical gladness, suicidal sadness, Fast thrills, utility bills, toxic chemical spills, Crack dealers, soul stealers, carnival fire-eaters, Garbage men in Pierre Cardin dancing in the winter wind, Acid dreams, obscure scenes, cars passing in between, Rebellious fire, hot desire, the world at the end of a wire, Insane dreams, dying scenes, traffics timeless screams, Compassion, out of fashion, feelings in traction, Depression, recession, endless mindnumbing concessions, Out of breath, wish for death, lose yourself in regret No time to catch your wind, before it starts all over again. True or false, fact or fiction, insane contradictions, Run the race, keep the pace or fall flat upon your face, Frantic action, dissatisfaction, reflection and reaction, Lose to win and win to lose, No one gets to choose.

The Suburbians Welcome back my friends to a show that's sure to end, A festival of fools, A continuium of complacency. Fighting for the almighty buck, With cunning or just plain luck, Chasing checks to the bank, It's the money that decides your rank. What is it that we try so hard to buy, Something called the American Dream? Has become just another a twisted lie, We tell ourselves to still desperations silent scream? Whatever became of our brave new world? It's really something for the few, All of it's promise has withered and died, Killed by accountants in dark gray suites, Bureaucrats oh so civilized, That see the world through blinded eyes. Is this purgatory or just the suburbs? Where the edges are all smoothed over, A velvet limbo before the void: Within this rosy wallpaper exist the numbered people, Living in a world of pooly written television scripts, With plastic lovers and young republican minds.

Introduction Hello, My name is John Doe, All that I as is 10 digits, Filed away in a data bank, Ten cold digits tell my story, Alpha plus is my rank. Promise and wonder fill our brave new world, Of high technology and analysis, No new thoughts are born, They are all out worn, So we stop thinking and cease to exist. All we are is what we have seen, The latest propaganda to have been: A socialist insecurity number, A ticket to the big match, A big screen color TV. A good Sunday ritual, A membership in the party, In good standing with the moral majority.

I was thinking about how to present characters. I think that their actions and words should define them. Ok- let's try this one: ============== I hated summer school. What a terrible waste of available time too waste. Sure, I would graduate early but sometimes I wondered if I that was really the best thing for me. I had no burning desire to join the rat races but I did want to be independent. Dad's constant criticisms and demands were enough of a pain in the ass for motivation. Mrs. Brown gave us our next composition assignment sheets and told us that we had until Thursday to get them done. Thankfully the old hagis let us go just after 10:00 and didn't keep us until 11:30 as usual. Too bad it was raining sideways. Even with an umbrella, I was soaked when I got to my 280ZX in the parking lot. Driving home was tricky and nerve racking. So much so that I even turned my radio down which was a rarity for me. The wind was blowing hard and the rain was gathering in the road. Even though the Z-car hugged the road very well, it was slow going through the summer storm. When I topped the big hill on Oak Hill road, I noticed a tall skinny kid walking dejectly in the rain. I instinctly pulled over to see if he needed a ride. This weather wasn't fit for a dog, much less a kid. I pulled up beside him and let the passenger side window down and yelled, "You need a ride?" The kid looked like a drowned rat. He gave me a look that told me that he wanted a ride but his Mom had told him about the danger of friendly strangers. He considered my offer quickly and apparently decided that the storm was more dangerous that the college kid in the Z car. He got in the passenger seat and said, "Thanks man, this storm really blows." I reached behind his seat and handed him a towel. Which he used to dry off his face. I asked, "Where are you headed?", as I got back on the road. He replied, "Porter's Chapel Road." I quickly calculated that was about 10 miles away. I said, "That's a long way on a good day. By the way, my name is Jimmy." "My name is Conner", he said. "and I really appreciate the ride. You wouldn't happen to have a cell phone would you?" I handed him my phone. He brightened and said, "Thanks Dude." He dialed a number and paused for an answer. "Hey Mom..Don't worry. I got a ride.. OK I'll ask him. Hey Jimmy, you wanna have lunch?" What the heck. Probably beat the sandwich I had waiting back at the house. "Sure." "Yeah, OK. Thanks Mom." He hung up the phone and handed it back to me. We drove along for a few minutes in silence and he asked, "Wait a minute. Didn't you go to Oak Hills?" "Yeah. I graduated a couple of years ago." He smiled, "Weren't you the guy that beat the shit out of Brandon Farmer?" I blushed. That wasn't something I was very proud of. "Yeah. That was me", I acknowleged. "Dude. You were like a hero. That guy was like a major league asshole", Conner said brightly. ----------------------------------------- What told you more about the characters? Their words or their actions?