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DeleriumJ (you'll see me again some day)
Name: Ben Bradley
Crazy in Alabama
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Jackie catches his breath in the alley. One hand holds his side, where a bullet has passed all the way through and is slowly leaking blood. His white dress shirt is half-stained red.
His face is shrouded in darkness. He peers out of the alley as the car’s screeching tires grow closer.
Come and get me, boys.
The car slowly turns into the alley. Its girth fills the narrow alley like a bread pan.
Two men get out. They are JOEY BIG ONES and TONY JELLY, soldiers for Chino Saglierre’s crew. Joey is big and bald, scarred, leather-skinned, and mean. Tony is brown haired, cute as a boy but now just boyish. Joey reaches into his jacket.
Might as well come out now, you little fuck. I know you don’t want me coming in there after you.
Careful, Joey. I heard this guy don’t go down so easy.
Joey draws his gun from his jacket. He smiles.
Every man bleeds.
The current project is Jackie the Assassin, a one-shot that will hopefully assist in putting my name out there.
Love is the most confusing thing in the world. Have I felt it? Do I feel it? Will I ever? Will it fade away? When? Why? HOW?
And most importantly...who?
Who is this minotaur-angel-demon that's going to swoop down from Elysium and call herself THE ONE? And will I swoop to her? And will our swoops be mutual? And will we swoop together later on that evening in her cramped apartment with her roommate snoring in the next room? Too many questions. Too much pressure. At some point in my life, a little minotaur angel-demon swooped down and landed on my shoulder, and he said "You gotta do it, man. Someday, you will meet your own sweet-ass minotaur angel and you bitches are gonna fall in love. After that, it's the marriage and the kids and a car that's big enough to carry all that shit they'll bring with them. Trust me, dude." This is when he winked at me. "It'll happen." And I think I said, "Oh, shit."
Love is a stupid animal, and it's always nosing around in your fucking garbage. "On the paper! ...Fuuuuuck..."
Well, it was the first hot day in HOTlanta this year. Isn't it always so disappointing when you remember how fucking hot it's going to get? I was too busy complaining about the cold to remember this heat bullshit. Anyway, I had a thought today. Many people throughout history have asked the question, why are we here? Well, I think global warming has something to do with it. Pollution is gradually eating holes through our atmosphere, making the heat waves longer and hotter each year. Then it dawned on me: when God created us, he knew we were going to eventually industrialize our towns and start polluting. He knew we would eventually cause the earth to heat up like a speed freak at a Poison concert. Conclusion? God is trying to cook us. That's it; that's the whole meaning of life. We're floating around the solar system aboard a gigantic crockpot, and God is just waiting for the little red light to flick on. When it does, after we've all simmered to a golden brown, He'll pop us in his mouth, roll us around inside for a little while, and swallow us down His all-powerful gullet. I hope we give Him indigestion.
I swoon at those particularly wise elftown members who have the insight to say, "I'm myself." Seriously...fuck you. No wonder you don't have any friends. If I was talking to someone that said, "I'm myself," I would slap them until they weren't themselves anymore, just to prove them wrong.
Reverend Peter Popoff just told me on the TV, and I quote, "God is touching people all over the world...and He wants to touch you." What?
And he was selling Miracle Spring Water. That's actually what it said on the label.
My backpack got stolen from my car. Can you believe that shit? Not only was I working on a bunch of cool stuff to put up here (I had a Thoughts-on-God list that really woulda crinkled your little Jesus-loving toes), but...man...I lost a lot of shit. See, I always write things out longhand first because I'm a fucking idiot. I had most of Bitter/Sweet #4 in there, the beginning to my werewolf story, as well as a notebook filled with outlines. This might be an obvious question...but what the fuck do people carry in their backpacks worth stealing?? I know I sure as hell didn't have anything of value in there...unless this dickless fuck was planning on making his fortune selling used text books and broken pens. I would have been perfectly fine opening the backpack, showing it to him, and letting him take whatever he wanted. JUST LET ME KEEP THE SHIT YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT. That's all I wish I could say to him. Now my work is in a dumpster somewhere, and I'll never be able to reproduce it. And that's one of the most depressing thoughts I could ever have. So anyway, that's what's been going on with my life. Just had to let it out.
I'm from the South but I don't have a southern accent. That's kind of like a 2-for-1, because you get the sweet southern boy charm, with the added bonus that I don't sound like I'm chewing on a pair of nuts when I talk.
I believe in God in a fantastical sense, like others fool themselves into believing in magic spells and dragons. I know it isn't REALLY real, but damn if it isn't fun to make believe. I talk to God as if he were a close friend, and most often right after I've just run a red light next to a cop.
UPDATE: I'm starting a new reality TV series called "Smart Women Discussing Serious Issues." It's a sci-fi midget porn docu-drama.
Some fun stuff:
The White Rabbit Society
The first writer to join the ranks. Don't I feel special.
Go here and explode your mind.
These fuckers know way too much.
Children of the Revolution
Recently aborted due to an ignorant and vindictive host.
The key to a woman's heart? Laughter, my friend. Laughter and a 10 inch cock.
Despite popular belief, I am actually a very nice guy. Sometimes I'm interpreted as mean or brash because I say what I think most of the time. I tend to get along with the same kind of people.
I'm a writer. I'm working on a body of fiction I've dubbed "industrial myth," that is, no frilly medieval fantasy, no elves or dwarves or magic crystals. I work mostly in modern times, with gritty atmospheres and flawed characters. I'm a big fan of mythology from all cultures and try to reflect that in my writing.
Just so there's no confusion, I own all of the rights to the title Bitter/Sweet, all of its characters and concepts. That includes Jackie the Assassin, Calico, Eves of Adam, and a bunch more.
Questions from Dr.No
On A Serious Note...
Concerning driving while under the influence of marijuana. The worst thing that I've ever done while driving high is forget to drive above the speed limit. That's right...I was so fucked up I obeyed the law. Does this sound like a drug we need to arrest people for?
Don't just read about him! Talk to the genuine article. Be polite and say hi, you selfish bastard.
Fantasy race personality: Orc
Place of living: USA-Georgia
Elfwood artist: No
Elfwood writer: No
|heavy metal||hip hop||house|
|cats||chasing the preferred sex||cooking|
Civil status: single
Sexual preference: opposite sex
Body shape: normal
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