The stress of hearing editor Jameson’s incessant barking about scooping media opportunities.
The creepy xenogalactic denouncements of despot Infinata from his hoity-toity throne in the Fifth Dementia.
The silent gaze of faded Fred and Barney pillows lingers while Deaf Kennedy peers from his windowsill perch.
These overlapping transmissions seem to make the youngster chafe.
Competing messages that seem to hammer home the weight of some deadline. ...Not yet knowing that down the street awaits a warm plate of fishsticks and cocktail sauce.
In the big picture: Present and alternate dimensions must be made to account. Pixels need to resolve, map and tone within a perceivable gamut. Vectors need direction, magnitude and destination to render a proper display. Columns of meaning with gutters in between, rising above the fold, reaching the mast; we see the universe as one eventual substrate.
Rasterizing the Master Spill Page would effectively pancake these simultaneous frustums and cull the portals down into one cogent strategic plan of action.
It is so clear now, the second hand ticks like thunder. It has become dark. Mom is fuming as the victuals grow cold. Better get home to supper.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Posted by LordSomber at 6:05 PM
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
From behind the one-armed bandits slowly rise the silky turbans, little fish with big eyes on the moll óir, with no one around to tap on the aquarium glass.
Sikhs playing slots
Koreans playing keno
Punjabis playing pai gow poker
and blackjack for the gent from Bình Dương
Outside the parlor...
Mothers crouch upon faded sheets spread over ornate carpet
Miserable babies squeal under the sequined light of bristling chandeliers
Soiled diapers sit in sandy ashtrays, silently mocking the disneyfied grandeur
Oh, how the Donald
would knit his red furrowed brow
lobby is spoiled, but fear not,
cash trumps any mess
The Gamblers’ Den: the mise-en-scène of gentlemen on holiday from Asian quarters.
Parlaying their high hopes, they drag their families along from third world to first, only to leave their loved ones to linger outside the premises while the menfolk play grab-ass with Lady Luck on the gaming floor.
Hajj to the Taj
Posted by LordSomber at 6:18 PM
Monday, October 02, 2006
Blur and ripple through the currents, sea flares shimmer.
Under the crystal dome, spires soar, cellophane veils sway and fountains burble sapphire springs for all the bathing beauties.
Mayor Nemo raises his glass, nods, and toasts Neptune’s benediction...
Won’t you join us?
Posted by LordSomber at 6:14 PM