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DARK WINDOWS #19 - Jun 1, 2008 ===== ===== ===================> INTRO King Kong is Burning Today there was a major fire burning in the back lot of Universal Studios. The set from "Back to the Future" is reported as being destroyed, as well as the King Kong exhibit that's part of the regular tour, plus the set from Clint Eastwood's recent film, "The Changelings", the New York Street exhibit, a few other sets and a major film & video archive. Up to 50,000 videos and reels in the video vault may have been destroyed, but duplicates of these exist elsewhere, according to the report [1]. Ten firefighters are reported injured [2]. The fire started just before 5 A.M. and the cause is under investigation. LINK 1: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/24916515&;GT1=43001 - MSNBC - 01 June 2008. LINK 2: http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/06/01/studio.fire/index.html - CNN- 01 June 2008. LINK 3: http://www.firstshowing.net/2008/06/01/fire-ravages-the-universal-studios-backlot/ - FirstShowing.net - 01 June 2008, good photos. Like almost everything else, this has actually happened before. In November, 1990, another fire on these same back lots caused $25 million in damage, and destroyed the "Back to the Future" set. That fire was set by a security guard, who was convicted and sent to prison for four years. This news blurb brought to you by my "odd news" blog called "The Unlikely Times." http://unlikelytimes.blogspot.com = scott ===================> POEM The Last Artist --- I see a world lashing out the least originality, Shying from the untried with numb shotgun fingers, Lashing out always correctlng paving over the transgressors with glowing weak arrogant grins, Then finding that there are no more artists: No poets nor writers no painters no players, no homes, no tomorrow, Only bare walls crying for love and feelings run from the police, No release for the exalted, I see a world lashing out at itself. --- = 7/87, unpublished ===================> ODD CLIPS: (clips from old "factual" sources) This evening, while at recreation, Mr. Belzoni was bitten in the foot, which caused him to cry out […] next morning he was bitten again, in the same place; this last time fetched blood, taking a piece out of the toe. The animal must have been small; he plainly felt something twisting round his leg; we all agree in thinking it must have been a water lizard. [1] [June 27, 1817] We this day saw two crocodiles; our men requested us to fire some muskets to frighten them away, but were not afraid […] I think, from what we have noticed of these animals, that if ever they do attack people, it is but very seldom. [2] These people have no idea that our researches for antiquities in this country, have any other view than to get treasure; and they laugh when we tell them we are looking for stone statues and slabs […] with inscriptions on them. [3] 1. Charles Leonard Irby et al, Travels in Egypt and Nubia... (T.White & Co, London, 1823), p.8 2,3. same, p.10 ===================> STORY Maze Curtains (Part 2 of 2) ---- [Continued from issue #18] 8 Cul-de-sac. End of hope. Shadow-laughter doesn't touch me now. I fall to my knees, breath heavy and alkaline. Sacrileged I glare at the rivets. The shadows leap at me en masse but pass through me in unison ethereal confusion. I did not need them to torture me. I was confident that I could torture myself just as well. For that's what was happening. In my reckless solitude, I had become self-destructive. The walls were me and society and resignation. And impregnable. 9 Rivers ahead and around of molten steel rushing to form more walls, wells of emotion lost in the steam of their cooling. This was not dream, it was straight therapy. Proof of my ineptitude, my failing. All the years of my life spent in gainless routine oh how I deserved this ghastly metal box! I stared at the doorway from whence I had entered this chamber. I knew could not find my way back. All was so far away. 10 "Gods of reason, spectres of hope, avatars of the loves of others please be my own! Come to me, lift me from here, this hell-prison of three unconquerable dimensions. Please come to me but one single glance of charity, a shred of life or the trusting of demise! Let something liberate me from the cruel sharp shackles of myself!" I screamed no words but shouted raw emotions, purging. 11 I should try to grope my way back to reality, take my guesses at the thousand metal meanders so much like the folds of my own, hidden encephalon. Fears always that the road behind will close with progress and I will die in this place. Still I do not move, for no direction looks favorable from here. Shades of catatonia pursue my flesh. There had to be some way to counter the fathomless forces which had projected myself around me. 12 Could I redeem myself? Could I attack and conquer my numberless mediocrities and begin to exist again beyond this self-captivity? What could I do in the face of the uncaring world? Could I start by writing this story? All seemed circles: raising myself upon the distances, slowing near the end; ending at the start then setting out again. Recursiveness incarnate, another level of Maze. I thought about chasing dreams, but they couldn't escape this place either. 13 Gentle sound, air motions unlike wind. Had my soundless essential placations been heard after all? Was it a new level of horror like the forming of a ceiling to shut out the dead cadmium sky? Spirits settled into form, ether motions falling about me singing tales of previous souls lost. On this level, had my yearnings for redemption cancelled out my reprisal-desire? I wondered if these spirits were part of myself, or friends I couldn't remember anymore. 14 They touched me, lifted me. I knew I would find a direction now. I hadn't seen before how far I'd fallen, how my life had run blindly down a dead end driven on by years of tedious no-growth employment. But the kind spirits were rising too high. I looked back to see the maze and saw the Earth dwindling instead. I hoped then, naturally, that there would be no metal in the next world. --- end --- published in EOTU Magazine, 4/88. published in "Year of the Twist" (story collection) (2001) ===================> NOW AVAILABLE: A new edition of my poetry collection "Peripheral Visions": http://www.lulu.com/content/2526623 There's a print version and ebook version available. ===================> DARKVISION: (captured dreams) 1/28/08 ::: Full night of dreams. At one point I had a motorcycle made out of a tiny engine and a telescoping piece of pipe, and collapsing axle with two wheels. There was no seat, but it would come apart and fit in my backpack. There was some race down a steep flight of stairs overlooking a harbor, but then I found myself showing up for a job interview as a "freelancer" where they wanted me to pump explosives into a building through a drainpipe, and then run really fast. Later on I was back on a bike with a small engine, juggling for position against other bicyclists -- it wasn't a race, just a strange commute to nowhere, since none of the bikers had jobs. Went for a walk around 3pm, got a story idea called "Bob Dylan Goes to Mars." And a Moutain Dew Code Red to keep the headaches at bay. ===================> MY NEWS: Aside from those two anthologies I'm editing at SamsDot Publishing, there hasn't been much news. I had two poems accepted for anthologies over at Bards & Sages. ===================> POEM Memorials --- Twisting paths, I am being dragged along A ribbon of bare earth Winding between stones whispering trees -- Coming out of blackness, Unfurling before me Like a fanfare carpet, I follow the bends - Carefully -- Between the headstones Thrust out of the ground, Pointing beckoning Wanting to share secrets Then fading as I pass, My eyes locked firmly ahead For the rock bearing my name, Dark birds shuffle in the brush, Sand tickles within my hurt shoes, Standing on this hilltop I See Another field of stones Stretched out in valleys Moving ahead, I have passed this way before. --- =7/87, published in Lil Demon Review #1 (11/87), "Year of the Twist" (6/01) ===================> STORY BITES: (clips from old fictional sources) Sometimes, you know, you see him, and sometimes you don't, just as he pleases, I think: he's there, but he has some power over your eyes. [1] We had no doubt whatever that what we saw was the track of a bare foot, and one that showed more bones than flesh. [2] If you can understand what I mean by a breathless, a lungless laugh, you have it: but I don't suppose you can. It came from below and swerved away into the mist. [3] 1,2,3. story: "A Warning to the Curious" by M.R.James ===================> POEM Memorex --- I am making tapes of my voice, encoding myself in micro-miracles, technology taken for granted, Humming tunes, rhythmic sounds, notes of ambiguity, hints of deep meaning, But the stereo is off, I am not speaking, I flip the sealed, blank cassette in my hand, I know my voice is already upon it, I move now to return it for a full refund - what good is it to me? I paint the store on my wall, Then encode it, make it real … I move forward. --- = 7/87, unpublished ===================> ABOUT THE AUTHOR Scott Virtes has had over 400 stories & poems published since 1986. Look for them in Analog, Space & Time, Ideomancer, Dreams & Nightmares, Cafe Irreal, Planet, and more ... My Home page: http://tales.scvs.com?inw=dkw Notice: Odd Clips and Story Bites all come from original sources in the public domain, or are brief clips in the spirit of fair use (a.k.a. free advertising for the source). All other sections of this newsletter are copyright (c)2008 Scott Virtes. All rights reserved. Please don't grab chunks of my work and post them all over the place. If you ask permission, you'll find that I'm pretty easygoing. ;-) ===== this issue: 1,580 words cumulative: 38,980 words |
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June20, 2008 - Dark Windows #20 - Jun 20, 2008 >> |
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