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 Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 2:32 pm
"[...] Cypri munimenta sortita est, mirthful, oricalchi, with golden
Girdle and breast bands, thou with dark eyelids
Bearing the golden bough of Argicida. So that:"
- from "Canto I," Ezra Pound. Of Neon and Helios.
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 2:34 pm
Table of Contents
1. Welcome.
2. ToC; Rules.
3. About Aphelion.
4. About Neon.
5. Photo Album.
6. Extended Family (and Family Friends) [1; Possum Opossum].
7. Extended Family (and Family Friends) [2; Other].
14. Disclaimer. Journal begins.
-----
Rules
1. Please be IC in this journal if possible.
2. Check before barging in on a sequence of solo RP.
3. Rules of RP apply to all IC posts.
4. Other than that, whatever floats your boat.
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 2:36 pm
"There was one other circumstance that tormented me at the time, namely that nobody else was like me and I wasn't like anybody else. 'I am one person, and they are everybody,' I would think, falling into a brown study."
- from "Notes from Underground," by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. I do not know the translator for this excerpt.
Name: Aphelion
Gender: ?
Temperament: Ineffably ordinary, ineffably unique, ineffably ineffable. Eat your mints and tatties and shut the <********> up.
AMS Glossary Aphelion: the point on the orbit of the earth (or any other body in orbit about the sun) that is farthest from the sun; the opposite of perihelion. At present, aphelion occurs about July 1, when the earth is about three million miles farther from the sun than at perihelion, but the seasons in which aphelion and perihelion fall undergo a cyclic variation with a period of twenty-one thousand years.
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 3:16 pm
"t is a mistake, this extreme precision, this orderly and military progress; a convenience, a lie. There is always deep below it, even when we arrive punctually at the appointed time with our white waistcoats and polite formalities, a rushing stream of broken dreams, nursery rhymes, street cries, half-finished sentences and sighs."
- from "The Waves," by Virginia Woolf. I know most of the mistakes in this and I hate it.
Name: Neon Vidalis.
Birthname: unknown.
Gender: Male.
Age: 23
Occupation: apathetic bookstore-owner, moocher, odd jobs.
Status: Single, unattached, no wish for marriage.
Sexuality: Often filed as 'closet bisexual,' but would be more accurately placed in the 'anything goes, but make it good' drawer.
STDs? Some things you just don't need to know.
Height: Tall enough to stand behind the cash register.
Weight: Heavy enough (and yet light enough) to primp righteously.
Eyes: Pale yellow-green. Rarely uses eyeshadow.
Hair: Black, curly, and only sometimes clean.
Skin: Pale olive; tans easily and burns even more easily.
Familial Relations: Father (Harold) and mother (Linda) both deceased; Neon has not sustained any contact with the rest of his relations, with the exception of his cousins Andre "Redd" Reddings and Tarnham George.
Bio: Neon was born in a completely ordinary month at a completely ordinary time of day. He spent the first few years of his completely ordinary life doing absolutely uninteresting things. At the age of six, he went to school, at the age of ten, he discovered chewing tobacco with his cousin Andre (then fifteen), and at the age of eighteen, he started working in his father's bookstore.
When his father died from heart stroke at a New Years' Party, the then-twenty-two-year-old Neon went out, got himself s**t-faced, and then proceeded to party all night long.
When he came to, he found himself lying on the street with a pounding headache and no money. Luckily, with the death of his father, Neon had come into a good-sized inheritence comprising mostly of the apartment and bookstore.
Since then, Absolutely Ordinary Neon has been working in an absolutely ordinary bookstore in an absolutely ordinary district. He occasionally engages in absolutely ordinary social interactions with his monotonously ordinary neighbors, and once in a while goes out to ponder the meaning of life and kill birds.
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 3:29 pm
Photo Album.
Fig A: ...Nyurknyurk.
Fig B: Blue?
Fig C: ...ohgawdno
Side-note: If I look at it sideways I can pretend that it's Shiva!
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 7:25 pm
"San Piedro men learned to be silent. Occasionally, though, and with great relief, they communicated with one another on the docks at dawn. Though tired and still busy, they spoke from deck to deck of what had happened during the night and of things only they could understand. The intimacy of it, the comfort of other voices giving credence to their private myths, prepared them to meet their wives with less distance than they might otherwise bring home after fishing. In short, they were lonely men and products of geography - island men who on occasion recognized that they wished to speak but couldn't."
-from David Guterson's "Snow Falling on Cedars."Neighbors and Acquaintances [The Tenants of "Possum Opossum"]. Flyer In need of a cheap place to stay? A comfortable little niche in a suburban area? Come and check out NOE VIEW FLATS, a lovely seven-floor apartment building (with a large, spacious lobby!) facing a picturesque, quaint street.
Running water and electricity! Groceries Nearby! Nice neighbors! Come and check us out! Inquire for details!
-"Boss" Possus Chang. (555) 555-5555.
Seventh Floor.
On the seventh (and top) floor resides Mrs. Soukhova, a catty cat-lover from Russia.
Sixth Floor.
The sixth floor is home to Mr. John Brommick Douglace and Mrs. Yukiko Himiyama Douglace.
Fifth Floor.
Mr. and Mrs. Sheppers and their young daughter, Maya.
Fourth Floor.
Miss and Miss Fuentes, who enjoy cooking cabbage, sewing, and looking through personal ads for Mr. Right.
Third Floor.
Zatsby, Amy, and Melissa Thompson, all of whom are inherently American with brown hair.
Second Floor.
Timothy Bennett, short and weedy: The Pigeonman.
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 7:27 pm
"I insisted that the girl had to be a virgin and available that very night. [...] Then it can't be done, she said without the slightest doubt, but it doesn't matter, it's more exciting this way, what the hell, I'll call you in a hour.
I don't have to say so because people can see it from leagues away: I'm ugly, shy, and anachronistic. But by dint of not wanting to be those things I have pretended to be just the opposite."
-from "Memories of my Melancholy Whores," by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.Neighbors and Acquaintances [Assorted Others]. Former Lays (who later reappeared in Neon's life again) Will Tarpey lives in the upper floor of the building on the other side of Neon's flat, paying rent to (and working for) the family that owns the music store on the bottom floor. He used to live in Monterey, but rode Greyhound up to San Francisco shortly after the earthquake, whereupon he called in some favors and boarded up with Neon for a few weeks. After a month and a half of leftover nachos, completely silent sex (which was never to be mentioned again), both kinds of dirty glasses, and general apathy, Will moved next door and bought a TV. Tarnham George will happily throttle anyone and everyone who refers to him as George Tarnham. He's quite well-off but never gets any action; he enjoys poptarts, fishing, and long walks by the sunset-struck sea. Asphodel was this chick who Neon groped in a bar when mildly drunk. She didn't really like him much, since he hates techno. Trancy was a skeleton in the science classroom of Neon's elementary school. She stood next to a chart of the human reproductive system, which had been passed down from sex ed, and helped Neon learn to masturbate. ??? enjoys long, romantic walks by freshwater lakes and fresh artichokes (especially when cooked with garlic butter). Other. Andre "Redd" Reddings is half-black and half-white and doesn't especially care about this fact. He drives a large, red truck and enjoys reading classical literature in his free time. Despite his frustration at Neon's talent for getting into scrapes, he loves his younger cousin very, very much in a thoroughly nonsexual manner and has in the past sacrificed many a job to haul Neon's drunk a** out of jail. Caesar (100 - 44 BCA) added a large mass of territory to the Roman Empire before ruling from 44 - 49 BCA. Sculptors throughout the ages have attempted to relay the sense of stern nobility that pervades classical accounts of Caesar's exploits.
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 7:30 pm
essences
Snipped out of my flat entry, which I think encapsulates some of the underlying themes behind this tale quite well. This is just for me so I don't make too many mistakes.f - small glitches, a minute disruption of habits, Neon thinks; like the eggs (the color of postage-paper parcels) he found that day on North Beach, they would eventually rupture and fade away into history. No matter that one of the eggs did not shrivel, did not remove itself from his life, but instead hatched into a spine-footed descendant of a Cambrian animal, wove itself a cocoon with the texture of cooked noodles, and (early this afternoon) broke free of its pod, uncurling and unfurling into an anthromorphic horror that Neon could not even begin to describe, except to say that the vivid colors were reflective of his hallucinations in their intensity and variety.f It occurs to him that the watermarks on his ceiling - the bloated trail of dirty brown like a mud-wallowing rhinocerous, the speckles of grime by the light-fixture, the cracks of cesspit-yellow and s**t brown branching out by the air conditioner - can never speak, are completely silent, save for a few ominous creaks and squeaks whenever rats collect on the roof above and sag the ceiling downwards. It is only in his mind and through his voice that these stains and imperfections have a life - it is only when he says that it is so that the rhinocerous grows distinct horns and starts to wallow. Without a medium, the watermarks are but flaws in another rotting ceiling; disgusting, despicable, worthless. They rely on him to lend his voice to their stories and alien customs, to stand up tall for harmless imperfections and dyslexic recluses, to demonstrate to the world their usefulness (as inspiration if nothing else) and prove that, indeed, even the most grosteque bulging knob-face in the most horrid yellow wallpaper has the right to exist, to torment one's dreams at night, to defy cleaning crews and compulsive housekeepers, to live.
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 7:33 pm
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 7:34 pm
--< ooc junkbox>>
For everything that has no place.
song: 'fake tales of san francisco,' by artic monkeys I don't want to hear you now [kick me out kick me out] I don't want to hear ya, no [kick me out kick me out] I don't want to hear yer fake tales of san francisco echo through the air...
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 7:50 pm
--< >
Despite being the owner of a bookstore, Neon has only a few books of his own. Some are heirlooms, passed down from fanatic father to apathetic son; some are leftovers from his school career. A few were bought and simply never sold.
What is on his bookshelf? What books does Neon struggle through, bleary and hallucinating in the grey light of morning? The world would never know, were it not for our trusty team of ninja gophers.
Neon's bookshelf: three books, in pristine condition. The first book is wrapped in a cheap cloth pocket decorated with large, smiling daisies. The book cover itself is hardback and scratched; a dark tan pocket on the inside of the front cover (and a tag on the back) marks this copy of Virginia Woolf's "The Waves" as a stolen library book. Between "The Waves" and a stout, cheerful book with no cover or identifying front page is lodged a paperback, of medium length, and stinking slightly of beer-barf. Luckily, no stains obscure the title; this is an old copy of ".spiraling," a small and not too widely circulated lit magazine run by a group of disillusioned supermarket clerks. ".spiraling" generally contains a wide variety of writings, ranging from not-too-cliched angstfests to surprisingly original short stories.
Under the Bed, dogearred and forgotten. Scattered at the window end of Neon's bed are several issues of Playboy, Hustler, and Peeled Tangerine (a more recent publication of the same genre as the first two). Someone has gone through these magazines with a Sharpie, circling articles and genitalia of especial interest. Also under the bed is half-a-copy of the Karma Sutra, in very bad condition, with a small bottle of lubricant lodged between the pages, and several of last year's worst-selling cheap romances.
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Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2006 7:59 pm
--<>
When business is slow at the bookstore - that is, even slower than usual - Neon wanders down to the Red Lights and stripteases for extra income. Hey, those pornographic magazines don't just buy themselves!
Other sources of alternate income for Neon include cheating waitresses at restaurants, taking candy from small children and reselling said candy at cheap prices, pawning all the items he gains from taking full advantage of all kleptomaniacal impulses, and badgering (or buggering) his cousins.
side note: Neon is actually not as slutty as Will makes out. Neither will he striptease for the hell of it.
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Posted: Thu Feb 09, 2006 4:15 am
--<>
Neon was a breech birth, and when they finally pulled him out, his eyes were already open. His mother later said that giving birth to Neon was one of the easiest things she ever did, despite the complications. It was taking care of him afterwards that gave her difficulties.
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Posted: Thu Feb 09, 2006 4:16 am
--<>
Neon has never been to a funeral; neither has he ever met someone with six toes on one foot, although he has met someone with six toes total.
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Posted: Thu Feb 09, 2006 4:22 am
Disclaimer: art (c) respective artists, except for the picture of the Microdictyon (which is (c) Google Image Search and whatever site I found it in), shop concept (c) Coronaviridae, character concepts (c) Rielune, all unattributed quotes, of which there is only one, (c) wherever the ******** they came from. I want a cig.
This journal may include any combination of the following: light swearing, heavy swearing, explicit obscenities in speech, derogatory terms, racism, sexism, intolerance of other cultures, intolerance of other sexualities, intolerance of other people in general, incest, violence and gore, not-too-explicit sexuality, described nudity (no genitalia mentioned), mention of genitalia (not described pornographically), implicit mention of genitalia with vague descriptions (you still have to use your imagination a lot), references to rape, references to sex in general, explicit consumption of alcohol and nicotine, explicit consumption of illegal drugs, inaccurate and politically incorrect information, general angst and anger.
The author of this journal does not condone all that she says in it.
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