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delusionfade [userpic]

Almost a year later..

July 28th, 2006 (08:31 am)

Get on the floor! Nose to the cement. Not like that! Slowly. Yes. Okay, now I want you flatter than Kate Moss. What? Kate Moss! Yes the Calvin Klein model! No questions until you have passed out, sore-cunt.

Take one hand, stretch it in front of you. Now the other. Like fucking Superman! Wait, I want your left hand on your ass, yes on your left ass cheek. Fuck it, I want both hands grasping your ass like a vice.

Take your tongue and lap the floor. It's a fucking iron gate. Lick until you find China.

Do you understand why you are making love to the cement? Are you aware that you are living this, this very minute on the rigid earth for a reason, puss-face?

This is the first moment in your hubris existence that takes you lower than primordial dwarves. No longer will you feel the wind brushing your ass, tits standing ovation for fucking God, or your button nose directing a personal symphony of drivel complaints. You are here, on a mission from one person, and I will throw you a bone.

He is not going to answer your prayers.

Today is the first time you are no longer secure. You are a miniscule thought in the back of a fourteen-year-old terrorist punks porno collection. You have now become the left over flakes from his chaffing dick after five hours of masturbation with the dog. There is no maid. No full-service from your slave pool.

You have hit rock bottom, my sweet liver toxin, and not only are you sound enough to endure this torture through all your sobbing, you are going to gradually relearn what it means

To be an expert sex worker.

Welcome to Prosti-tution. The finest private escort/stripper training service in the world. Your education will begin in this basement. Consider this to be your worst, ergo most enlightening month, ever.

delusionfade [userpic]

Jux, a friend of Fin.

July 18th, 2005 (09:48 pm)

Fin never had a map. His life, a dot-by-dot drawing of some constellation we all know as, Lost, is the most intriguing part of this universe. Or so we think. Could the fists of iron and gas hold a flame, no pun necessary, to Fin's everyday routine? Of course not. That ball of rage is on its course of physics and formulas, but Fin is the answer to chaos theory.

For example:

When Fin was 10 years old he was tired of eating soggy corn puffs every morning. Thus, he gathered 20 cockroaches in a milk jar, and had "toasted roaches" for breakfast. The legs would make him gag as they desperately latched onto his uvula, but in the end they were just like Crispex.

Or...

Fin was walking down his favorite path, the railroad, and a train was screaming at him like his cranky mother on the john. Fin doesn't mind pain. Thus, he stuck the tip of his foot on the rail, playing chicken with himself and the train. Just seconds before his foot was a flat penny, he removed his Chuck Tailors and laughed at the locomotive for not being quick enough.

Or...

For Christmas and birthdays, Fin will send graphic cards to his loved ones. Uncle Joe enjoyed a full shot of a man's head split in two by a sawed off rifle. It read, "This will hide your guns for at least a year before hunting season.. oh and Happy Birthday." Fin's intentions are fatuous. He knew certain cards would make Aunt Mary vomit all over her new Maxima, but he truly didn't care for the reaction, just the vulgar thought associated with his face after full recovery. Always a clever tactic to become uninvited to family gatherings.


Fin can tell a story like no other man or woman or sign language gorilla. He understands honesty like a hobo understands hunger and holes. Fin is the spectacular word dribbler. The topic might be about mechanical engineering, but he could twist it into a cheerleader's favorite story. This sounds too perfect to be true, and you're right. Fin is the cunning linguist, but horrid with actual conversation. He knew the world would throw him curious strangers, and it would be impossible to keep them at bay, so he taught himself the gift of storytelling. It is always enough story to satisfy like Thanksgiving dinner, and leave you in an obscure daze without any of the uncomfortable belly ache.

You can never tell what mood Fin is dragging behind him. His face is solid poker, and when he smiles it is like seeing an eclipse; so very rare, beautiful, and never lasts. Fin could be in love, but his expression displays a long suicide note. This being the reason to why strangers always inquire about his present state of mind. The face doesn't give them enough.. they always want more. So... He throws them an anecdote, and they fetch a life changing experience.

delusionfade [userpic]

Words from Lampy

July 7th, 2005 (03:18 pm)

They say history repeats itself, and you change what is next. If you catch a shimmer of the crosshairs in Vietnam 1969 and catch another shimmer of crosshairs in Iraq 2003, there is a similarity... But they are not the same gun in the same year. The differences outway the similarities from minute to minute. To generalize an era with another is something far too easy to do and far too easy to destroy.

History never repeats itself. It only evolves in a languid manner with the occassional case of malignant distractions... otherwise known as technological advancements. We face each day wondering what it would be like if this didn't happen, but we cannot escape it.

In the past, we did not annhiliate half of our country with nukes. A country consisting of a sludge of cultures, flags, and pride... destroyed for politics and temper tantrums. This will not happen again in the future. The day this city turned upsidedown is now permanently history, and that is it. We cannot recreate this moment. Ever.

The only thing they got right is this:

You change what is next...

delusionfade [userpic]

Lampy To Fin

July 1st, 2005 (09:54 am)

This is universe expansion five-hundred and forty-seven. This is the last time you will see your life roll like the frog's tongue out onto your laundry and bills, and the little scratches you call issues.

Don't believe the hype administered to you by traveling prophets with rock candy. They may scream, "It's the end of the world!" as rock candy pelts your head as he throws the sugar bullets in a wild shower of declaration..... But...

It's not the end of the world baby. Only the end of this expansion, and the beginning to a major collapse. And if you're worried that you haven't lived long enough, and haven't tasted the glory of a million dollars, lattes, and attornies licking your ass, I say you still have the chance. Better make it quick.

All you need to know now is to play your cards like you have a hand no person has ever dreamed of. You may be close to a royal straight flush...but let them think you have better.

If you deal ace and I deal king, you better hope that in a past life... blackjack wasn't your game.

delusionfade [userpic]

Doctor

June 28th, 2005 (09:16 am)

Fin's thoughts in the past:

Like most rookie lawyers, I'm sure most rookie doctors begin practice with good intent, and hold an honest impression with most of their patients. But as the years roll by, the surgeries look the same, the bodies morph into one large cancerous mole, and needles are just as good as lollipops.

I have an odd suspicion that that the doctor status in this country is a bit too overrrated, and most people are not receiving the help that they should. Almost like a benign holocaust, the people who see the doctor everyday are victims to the label, "guinea pig", with pins and needles surging through their veins for the sake of experimentation.

Like men in the army, patients in this country are soldiers in the waiting room lobby, prepared to fight the cancer, infection, disease, or psychosis. But in all honesty, each soldier is shivering in his night gown, and waiting for those important words, "You have X amount of time to live." Like men in the army, patients are not recognized as people, only as paper wrist bands or vital stats on a clip board. We fight for your new medicine, only for you to make profit in creating the next toxic drug. Here's my hip, and there's your needle... please recognize that this hurts me more than you.

We would love to glorify the men who 'fix' us. We would love to give them that pedistool, but most of us only witness tragedy because these men do not know enough or the right biology to actually fix what's broken. They tinker, and we suffer. I say kick that pedistool from underneath them and laugh at their minor injury.

If it were not for the compassion of science, the original intent for good, for a worldwide health, the majority of us would uprise, and changes would be made. Alas, there is no hospital, or doctor... only rotten memories and ticking injustice.

delusionfade [userpic]

New Ideas

June 22nd, 2005 (04:09 pm)

Almost every other graphic novel out there is somewhat identical to my plot. Or shall I say my grapic novel is identical to every other graphic novel. I didn't intend for this to happen, but I guess we focus just a bit too much on the end of the world. ;)

A list of what my novel and other novel's have in common:

The desolate land full of destruction and debris...
The killer strippers...
The somewhat superpowers...

But NO ONE has Lampy, thus Lampy will stay.

I'm going to revise and attempt a plot that isn't close to anything written before.
For instance, I might make the plot a bit more real than how it was originally planned. I need to research current affairs to make sure this whole civil war might happen and is somewhat believable.

If you have any input please share, and if I use your idea it will be credited.

delusionfade [userpic]

Fin

June 9th, 2005 (12:53 pm)

I decided to name the main character Fin, thus no poll.. sorry.

Fin is 26 years old and was aspiring to release an underground newsletter that encompassed issues with the city, the state, the government, entertainment, philosophy, and general life. He had written several months worth, but was never granted publishing rights or printing access.

Fin was not completely invisible to his fellow peers. He had a great following, almost an army of people who had read and discussed certain issues with him. Fin's army had a notorious reputation as the 'dirty hippies,' and most of the upper class folk avoided their pamphlets, music, and 'live art.'

This 'live art' entailed hundreds of people appearing to be dead by various faults of the government. Most of them lie in the middle of parks, streets, shopping malls, and any public venue. Their faces were painted white and a sign was propped behind each one divulging how they died. This particular art was featured in the newspaper several times, and the mayor had plans to manifest a bill which prohibited any mass activity without the city's permission. But the bill was never passed because the mayor was vaporized like most of the citizens. Post-war left millions of people lain dead in various locations, but no signs propped behind them.

Fin survived the blast by the means of a train that just happened to stop while traveling underground, and above ground nothing hit this particular spot. This happened with most of the trains that remained underground, but there were several that were hit no matter which ground they stood. This is how most of the people survived, and most of this population were amongst the short list of hobos, bohemians, lowlifes, and strippers.

Three bombs were activated, and three bombs destroyed three different cities in three different states. The city where Fin resides had been annihilated at exactly 2:45am. This explains why most of the passengers on the subway had been the only people who didn't have a 8-5 job the next morning.

Fin survived the blast by the means of having his own division of the train, and he along with 2 other people were riding the Q-65 to Main Street. Fortunately for Fin, the other two people riding were engaging in a knife fight, and when the blast propelled the train against the tunnel wall, the two stabbed each other in the head. Alas, Fin was alone and thus begins his search for survivors, food, sex, and a little inspiration.

delusionfade [userpic]

Lenny

June 6th, 2005 (03:32 pm)

Lenny used to panhandle the streets. He sold his body to fix his life with ingredients other than food and water. Lenny now shakes as he walks, and will die soon if he does not rest.

Lenny has been awake for the entire duration of post war. He does not fear the lowlifes enslaving him for he can take on an army. He served in the military for three years in Russia before reported MIA. He found a truck full of pigs, and became a stow-away crossing into other countries never to be seen by the public. The military knew of his where-abouts, but preferred to keep his MIA status for good reputation.

When he arrived in America he was invisible to the nation. His records were filed in locked portables and taken out of the telephone book. Larry found that this was the most opportune time to do whatever he pleased. As he educated himself to which street corners brought the most profit, he became lonely and decided to cut his reality into powder and mirrors. The powder eventually became one soggy mess and the rest of him ran about collecting the mess. This destructive habit was fairly popular for many panhandlers and homeless people, but Larry appreciated it. It was the only thing he could count on because the world was too unstable.

This is not the main character, but will soon become acquainted with the main character.

Main character has no name as of yet... After I post pictures and a short bio of him I might submit a poll of different names.

Thus far I have only thought of:

Tock
Mill
Henry
Jack
Perry
Luke
Mick

delusionfade [userpic]

The Plot Outline

June 4th, 2005 (09:44 pm)

This is somewhat rough, but you'll get the main gist:

Setting is post war, a city in the US that will not be mentioned. This city amongst other cities have been blown up by a US bomb. The bomb was released by the Republicans by mistake, and was scheduled to land not where it did, meaning it backfired and destroyed their own land.

Big war before the bombs insinuate the release. Republicans vs. Democrats. This war is the byproduct of another great depression as the President raises taxes to an extreme on the agriculture and gas products. Hungry people equals less rationality equals brutal division for the country and barbaric fighting/slandering.

Media is tied into the war, but with the war being homebound they side with the democrats in assurance of first amendment protection. They are the catalyst to the first battle after stereotyping the republicans.

After destruction from the bombs, the nation halts its fighting. People realize that destroying cities has too great of consequences to keep going. The country shifts into a cold war. The cities marked in debris are said to be desolate and uninhabited.

The media shares with the country that rebuilding the cities would be futile. There are warnings of extreme levels of radiation, and to not visit the aftermath. The national guard builds a fence around the cities in order to keep people out.

Little do they know, the city is not completely desolate. Most of the hobos, strippers, lowlifes, and bohemians managed to survive, but these people are very scattered.

The main character was a bohemian before the war, and is forced to become a hobo. He wanders the city in search for something that will inspire him to live. With the shortage of food and water plus loneliness he finds himself contemplating suicide, but manages to use humor to inspire his adventures.

In the beginning of the novel, the reader is educated about the main character's ability. After the war he has picked up on some awkward frequency that allows a higher level of telepathy. He can have conversations with everything including animals and objects. He befriends a lamppost name Lampy, and Lampy will divulge many stories to the main character between scenes of his wandering adventures.

The villain in the novel will actually be split with the lowlifes which become looters, and the strippers which will become serial killers. Because most of the people don't have anything for the looters, the looters take territory and lives. They make slaves out of the hobos and bohemians.

(I will try to make it so the strippers don't appear like the hookers from Sin City. I promise).

Oh, and is the superpowers being a byproduct of radiation too cliche? If you can think of something different.. please enlighten me. Thanks.

Any questions and comments encouraged. I'm really happy that I have a thick plot to work on... for I usually only get half of it and then become discouraged.

I will be posting pictures of some of the characters as my partner finishes them. This will prove that this graphic novel is the real deal.. ;)

delusionfade [userpic]

The Introduction for Lampy

June 3rd, 2005 (02:17 pm)

He sat there for ten years watching over the corner of Ash and Park. His name was Lampy and wore a collage of flyers and etched intials on his side.

Lampy once mentioned that he witnessed death at the very bottom of the city, in his corner of the arena. This death entailed hypothermia, and a lack of necessary booze. The man shivered until 3am, but failed to move after 3:01am. The very moment Lampy noticed the death he flickered his bulb for a few seconds to help relieve the soul below him.

He swears to this day that the ghost of the man floated to the top of Lampy's head, and sat on the thick bar parallel with the earth. The ghost acknowledged appreciation, and Lampy sympathized with humanity for the last time.

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