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[personal profile] richardbjr
My name is Richard B junior. My journey started far away, five or six blocks I'd say to the sea depending on the route I took. I was well prepared with freshly charged batteries in my camera, a small Moleskine and a pen in case I had a thought worth writing down. I patted Monkey on the head (my stuffed, white Monkey that hangs out on my piano bench), played a few notes on the piano, stumbled one last time to the balcony and looked out to the marvelous sea. It was a beautiful, early morning just after sunrise.

I chose the right cane for my journey and hobbled for the door.

Suddenly the walls across the room turned translucent. Spreading out at the axis of symmetry the angle between them became obtuse. What was beyond the walls was indistinct, iridescent.

Images formed, first symmetrically across the joined surfaces, two dimensional, kaleidoscopic and colorful. The surfaces merged into one giant, techno-colored scene shivering in arabesques of the great outdoors.

A surreal scene, I was standing naked in a field of grass, oaks and persimmons dropping red-brown leaves into a small river where trees floated by and bright colored snakes watched the shore with sad eyes. There were birds and other strange, small animals. I could feel the wind blowing through my hair.

This was no beach. I thought that Monkey might be doing it. He sat up in a tree, golden beams shot out of his eyes.

And then the music started. It was "Let the River Run", as sung by Rosa López.


The scene changed to a desert landscape as seen from a mountain top. Across an expanse of empty desert was the ocean. Looking down I made a declaration. I said, "Tonight when the wind visits I'll leave, no fear, I'll dance and sing and the wind will carry me there."

Shortly after that I fell down the mountain and for most of the night I crawled across the desert. I reached the shore at sunrise with skinned knees and rested.

I know too well what this was all about. I know too well that I would stroll the beach while the wind and I commiserate about the fall of man, the rise of rocks and waves and sand.

Then I blinked and sneezed twice. I hadn't left the room, and there was Monkey on the piano bench as usual, wearing sunglasses. The walls returned to normal walls. It was a clear morning outside.

My head hurt. I was laying on the floor, oh shit. I'd tripped and bumped my head. I have a bad right leg. Some mornings I don't walk very well. I checked and there was no blood, no other injuries. I'd bumped my head before. Nonetheless, I got right up and wrote this vision I had seen.

After I finished the writing I was ready again. I was well prepared for my journey to the sea. The door waited to be opened. I went to the freezer first to get out an ice pack to put on my bumped head. As the cold penetrated my skull I thought that maybe I'd wait and go at sunset instead.

This writer's life can be dangerous on mornings like this. Never know what I'll bump my head on next.

mrnihil: (Default)
[personal profile] mrnihil
Semi-legendary blind jazz musician G. Arthur Brown and some other guy drafted a set of guidelines for the community that will be adapted, discarded, recarded, and set in stone. These are as follows, and are at all times listed on the profile page:

If a story is over 500 words, put the rest behind a cut.

If an image is over 600 pixels tall, or threatens to break the format of the page, put it behind a cut.

No existential, whining poetry. No one thinks it's weird, absurd, surreal, or anything but boring. Same goes for teen angst. We don’t care how blind the rest of the world is to your pain, because your pain is not special.

Everyone is welcome, but if we get a big influx of non-pan-weirdist stuff, we'll put the boots to you (light style). We want to include everything that fits, but we can’t allow this to become a spam post for things that aren’t truly weird.

We're in favour of not being elitist snobs about what's weird and what's monkeycheese. You may find that this statement contradicts the way we treat you when we think you're boring old monkeycheese. It probably does, but we don't really care. Go start a "pan-weirdism is elitist and gay community," we wish you the best. It may also happen that we don’t think you are boring monkeycheese at all, but that you are just doing an excellent job in a non-pan-weirdist medium. Your excellent clinical realism or your amazing sword and sorcery might be great, but they don’t really belong here.

Seriously, the stuff that fits pan-weirdism just fits. You know it when you see it. I don't think we need a mission statement, manifesto, or membership cards. We know what we like to see, hear, and read.

"Pie pie hamster kawaii" and "the evil monkey did it" do not belong here.

We're not trying to muscle in on Bizarro, but we do welcome it as a method. Some of us very much like Bizarro, but aren't writers, which is the primary focus of Bizarro, or maybe you don't like Bizarro but you like some other "weird" thing. That's what Pan-Weirdism is here for: no variety of weird is left out in the cold. This is meant as a resource to bring things/people together so that we don't have to search 1,000 different places to find some obscure guy's awesome work, and so we don't have to dig through BBS topics (something we get tired of doing pretty quickly). We believe most people who like weird stuff tend to like a lot of different weird stuff and it should not be hard to find weird stuff of all types.

Please, please, please format the titles of your post as follows: Medium - Title of Piece - Author Name. Egs. Short Story - Pie Doom Pox on Shocking Hamster - Kawaii Pops. We're in the process of coming up with proper media descriptions, but they should be obvious, viz., "Animation," "Comic," "Photo," "Short Story," blah blha buhl. You get it. Common sense goes here. As we develop into a tyrannical pack of assholes, we will impose more rules on you at whim.
mrnihil: nihil 2010 headshot with animated static (my 2010 icon)
[personal profile] mrnihil
during a conversation with semi-famous writer Griswold A. Blackfeld, we came up with the idea of starting a community/utopia of sorts for our brand of hoohah. something that doesn't just encompass the writing aspect, but takes it to a level of pan-weirdism. we're tired of seeking out other people who do what we do, and having to visit 18 different sites just to find out what everyone's doing.

thus, we've created Pan-Weirdism, so that we can hopefully round some of these cretins up and keep them contained in our digital snares. Pan-Weirdism is for anyone who makes anything considered "weird" by the rest of the public. post your stuff, talk about your stuff, talk about other people's stuff, have sex together, eat toast with a friend on the other side of the world, decide things, ask questions, &c., and wotever else you might be inclined to do.

we plan on keeping things pure, so no posting about the angst of your existential crisis in the form of bad poetries, and no bad monkeycheese, and no pictures of Goku's penis in Naruto's mouth unless it's made with really vibrant colours. i'm sure there's probably more to say, but for now that's it.

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