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From: frank_fowlkes@yahoo.com
Newsgroups: alt.stories.urban-harvest
Subject: Re: green, yellow, orange, purple, red, blue, and black
Date: Fri, 30 Jul 2004 16:19:49 -0700
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===================
frank_fowlkes@yahoo.com (Bum) wrote in message news:<e67cba1.0407291317.433ed4df@posting.google.com>...
> * * * * *
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> green, yellow, orange, purple, red, blue, and black
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> The snow was falling around him, and some black trees creaked slowly
> in the wind. He lifted his hands away from the snow. The black
> mountain and the day after the seventy seventh hour started to creep
> closer to his thoughts now but, always and soon after, he felt another
> black lapse coming. He started counting where he left off. The black
> lapses he could never stop; they stopped thought, stopped ideas. They
> were coming more and more frequent now.
> # # #
>
> * # # # #
>
> when you start to feel tired rub #
> imaginary ice over your arms, face, # *
> neck, chest
> *
>
> "This one is stronger than the last," he thought, at the same time
> counting down from seven hundred. He tried every other method to pass
> through the black lapses without losing consciousness, imaginary
> walks, imaginary cold baths, imaginary fights, imaginary love affairs,
> none of them help, only counting or repeating a sentence over and over
> again sometimes helped but never entirely; he would always end up
> drowning.
Imaginary fights and fucks, imaginary people and worlds,
> helped him get through the early grey lapses.
Sometimes they helped him plan the next day if he ever woke up again,
get stuff right, right place, right time, right joke, and other times
they changed stuff from how they actually happened, she only dated you
to get near someone better, and you two broke up not because of an
absence of love but because one person didn't want to share, further a
lie, you'll lose, just because you haven't yet, doesn't mean you
won't.
Only reason to court to check whether someone can keep their promises,
that be make money, shelter, protection, smarts, muscle, misc., or to
find out their promises are a lie, not going to do enough to ensure
eternal life, so to seek someone who can without wasting anymore
youth/time. He didn't need to change that, she left him on the cold
beach, right before the pacific expanse, maybe because he/she sensed
that he couldn't ensure that she/they would live forever, that meant
changing/continuing the world and people to make sure their baby had
the best chance to continue the same. He no longer had any promise
anyone could trust. They are changing the world and people by force to
insure their eternal life; he expected to do the same or something.
The grey lapses only lasted the first night; they only suggested
sleep, suggested that he close his eyes and rest awhile, last thoughts
always a fuck, or maybe a fight to keep a fuck or get a fuck, get
another fuck.
> The second night, when gradually the grey lapses turned black, and the black lapses didn't suggest sleep, they stop all thoughts from continuing, from forming, he resorted to counting.
> Imaginary fights and fucks were useless for him to use to help get
> pasted the black lapses.
Staring up at the stars, the end half of the
> second night, he began counting the waves crashing on the beach, one,
> two, three, four-hundred and thirty-one, on and on; and the grey
> lapses turning blacker and blacker abated some but stronger one's came
> soon after, lasting only a couple of seconds, and always erasing the
> last thought from continuing, from arranging. The lapses weren't
> sleep; people choose to sleep; they were different; they were like an
> undertow, and after breaking the surface to breathe again, not sure
> about the last count, never sure about the extent of the lapse,
> another black lapse would come, and another, and another, halting the
> day after the seventy seventh hour, halting the path. He lifted his
> fingers off his wrist, not fast enough, the lapse was starting to
> peak.
>
> * *
> bend your left arm, tap right
> phalanges against your elbow *
> *
>
> He started to rub sand up and down his arms and up to his neck. He
> began counting his tapping finger, one, two, three, faster and faster,
> ten, eleven. "Don't stand up," he remembered. At the same time, the
> black lapses weren't to be avoided. In a way, the lapses would be
> needed to find the path to the black mountain, to the day after the
> seventy seventh hour, to the last thought. No one could get to the
> black mountain by not passing through the black lapses, if anyone
> could get through one. He would always drown, waking up the next
> morning to a sound, to a strange sense that he almost pierced through
> but never knowing for sure; this was his thirty-fourth attempt. After
> some of the black lapses, he would remember a part of a long number
> with other strange figures, and that he was only counting, some how
> manipulating the number, other figures, that he only counted to stay
> awake, stay awake for the day after. The lapse ebbed, and his mind
> began to slowly clear.
> *
> hold your breath, count the seventy seven
> knots on the string, round and round. *
> *
> He sat up. The sky was still black but he could see a faint glow
> somewhere on the horizon. "Lost?" he repeated several times before
> resting back to the earth. Only at night, only supine and alone, could
> the path through the black mountain, the day after the seventy seventh
> hour, creep any nearer. He wanted another black lapse to come before
> the sun climbed into the sky. "The black lapses have to be crossed;
> counting, prayers, anything; at least they're getting easier now."
>
> ## #
> anything! just don't choose to #
> fall asleep before the seventy *
> seventh hour # #
> ## #
>
> And one came, lasted only a couple of seconds, and he was wrong, or
> just a little off, the black lapses were getting stronger, the 23rd
> attempts, the early lapses, toys, and these not only threaten to drown
> him to sleep, these physically threatened to snap him out of
> existence. He stopped tapping and paused, the stars started to
> violently shake, the ground began to erupt, and began to repeat a
> sentence over and over again, this lapse unlike anyone of them before.
> ## #
>
> * ## * # * *
> * #* # # * # * * *
> * ## # # * # *
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> * # * # *##
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> * # * # * ##
> * *#
> * * # * * *
> # * * She was hanging clothes outside,
> *# # #
> * #
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> * # * # * *
> *
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> * and the wind started to come down the mountain.
> * * ### *#
> * *
> *#
> * ## *#
> * * * * *
> # * *#
> * * * *
> * # * * * *#
> * * * *
> * # * * * * *
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> *
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> *#
> * # * * * *
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> * #
> * *
> *
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> *#
> * *
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> * *
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>
> *
> Followed the bum from the interstate; watched him from a distance; and
> waited until he slept before crawling closer. The bridge rumbled, and
> the air smelt like piss. Knelt down and stared at him,*there, ashes
> and trash, sleeping, dreaming. Wondered about his thoughts right
> before he drifted off to sleep. He might not wake up tomorrow; might
> wake up to a pain radiating out from the center of his chest, down his
> arms, down his legs, no light, eyes closing around a black sky.
> Nearer, watched*his breathe sprinkle the air with snow flakes. Brushed
> his cheek with the back of my hand; stepped back, crouched below the
> horizon, and remained still. The bum was motionless, silent, but I
> knew he was awake,*skin and eyes, ears and nose, a mind not knowing
> which way the wind was blowing. Wanted*to climb, my black silhouette
> rushing forward, and soon, my cold hands around his throat, drowning
> him in his own spit. He soon fell back to sleep, not ever knowing the
> reason why he woke up to a quiet black sky. She would always do the
> same, even if it was to only stir, after a*strange noise, after a
> draft of wind, only that she sometimes remained awake a little longer,
> imaginary shadows crossing a black framed window, and felt her heart
> race. Myself, sometimes I would wake up in the middle of night, and,
> strange, find my mind empty, frantic almost, no place, no purpose, no
> name, and after, my name is, I'm right here, I'm doing this tomorrow,
> fall back to*sleep just the same. Stay awake past the seventy seventh
> hour; what if you went to sleep and you never woke up, she teased once
> you know, and tell me then, your last thoughts right before you fall
> to sleep. I crept closer, didn't care if she, the bum, or if anyone
> heard me, soon, real soon, after the seventy seventh hour. Left the
> bum there, fucker's gonna wake up to another day,*new purposes, new
> places, new names; left the cunt a long time ago, or maybe she left
> me, doesn't matter anymore, she has her prayers I have mine, the
> prayer after*the seventy seventh hour.
>
> *
> Don't fucking drive a car, idiot; walk, take the bus; and position the
> body to sleep; that's right, no coffee, no mindless stunts, only
> position: supine, tittering on the edge of the black lapses!
>
> *
> 1: water purifier, 2: instant live eggs, 3: growth food; guaranteed to
> live two years; 95 cents postage and handling
>
> I'm alive, Xanadu
>
> Most normal nights, not any thoughts, stop prayers long time ago, only
> wake up to another morning, an intermission, plenty food and plenty of
> women, some snapping at bling bling, others a couple of nods when they
> speak of stuff, then, eventually, curtains closing, opening, mangas
> colored rojo, the cream rising to the top, crap sinking.
>
> Possible state of mind after the 77th hour: fucking really tired, and
> like any other night, not caring to ever waking up again; at the
> steppe of the black mountain; or, wondering what 38402 93845 02038 938
> 9 84 9 is up to. State of body: p 100, bp 150/90, r 25, t 36.0
>
> Possible states of the body and mind after love: some bodily fluids
> over a white sheet, maybe some moaning if she really loves you; or
> someone in a trashcan, let someone build on a lie, someday a house of
> cards crashing down.
>
>
> Stone hammers
>
> Blue toaster waved at little Red saucer.
>
> "Hi!"
>
> Little Red saucer started to cry.
>
> "Super glue has put me together again."
>
> Blue toaster nodded.
>
> "A day smashed and put together again later."
>
> Copper tea pot appeared.
>
> "Day and night; morning, noon, afternoon, evening, and night; twenty
> four hours?"
>
> Little red saucer stopped crying.
>
> "some pieces missing, missing parts filled in with super glue. I'm
> supposed to be stronger now."
>
> Copper tea pot left so did blue toaster.
>
> "Bye."
>
> Little Red saucer started to spin, around and around.
>
>
>
>
> Stuff to do during the day so as to stay awake passed the 77th hour:
> don't walk around, from one end of the city to the other; don't walk
> down some railroad tracks, walk back; don't read; don't watch TV;
> don't work, no fun; don't panhandle for loose change; don't protest
> something; don't do anything, just rest, lay down, use only thoughts,
> to repel the black lapses
> *
> * ##
> Stuff to do during the night: write, from memory, from the past day,
> then position self supine, feel the b. lapses creep. *
> * ##
> And put this thought in your pretty little head, maybe after another
> and another black lapse, up until sometime after the 77th hour, more
> and more parts of the whole world slowly disappearing, or something
> weird like that, she will help me to lift the black mountain on this
> place.
>
> Larry was holding the hand of a little child, then they both turned
> and disappeared up the crooked path.
> * *
> *
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> *## ##
>
>
He sat up, brushing some of the snow and sand off his legs. The wind
was starting to flow the opposite direction; he could see the mountain
above the horizon and the dark orange glow behind it.
> #
> ##
> #
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>
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> #