Design Ideas, Anyone?

Announcement: 

To those of who silently stalk these pages, I would like to make a proposal. 

Recently I cleared my blog’s design template. The thing was just too baroque, even for my tastes. Therefore, if anyone out there (yes, you) would like to contribute in this capacity, please send me a message and we’ll proceed from there. Agreed? Good.

M.

Andy Warhol (Glib)

More explanations than you would expect from Andy.

New Book: My Novella

I have just published a novella through Lulu. Eventually, the book will be available through Amazon.com. Please give it (buy) read or suggest an alternative vocation.

Here's a blurb:

A novella, Volta is the story of a washed-out junky musician, the stigmata and mass delusion. Written in crisp, cinematic prose, the story is interwoven with Gnostic theology and noir scenes. Possibly more parody than reality, Volta is a modest work by an ambitious young author.

http://www.lulu.com/shop/melek-bonpartie-cocteau/volta/paperback/product-21285080.html

*

Reading through the manuscript today, I discovered the possibility of an unexplored subplot. So expect excerpts in the near future. To be honest, I don't think I'm to sell more than five copies; but validation is nice, isn’t it? 

An interview with author Dennis Cooper. If you're not familiar with his work, start with the Miles Cycle. 

A Short Theatre Scene for Three Women and A Man

Club interior. Bouncer stands at the door. Three women stand center stage, holding drinks. They are giddy with intoxication. Patrons mumble among themselves in the far back.

WOMAN 1. He wants to fuck me.

WOMAN 2. He wants to fuck you.

WOMAN 3. He wants to fuck someone. You , maybe.

WOMAN 1. He doesn’t want to fuck you.

WOMAN 2. He doesn’t want to fuck you.

WOMAN 3. He wants to fuck someone. Me, maybe. But maybe he wants to fuck you.

WOMAN 2. Me? No he wants to fuck you.

WOMAN 1. I know he wants to fuck me. But he doesn’t want to fuck you.

WOMAN 3. Maybe. Maybe he does. Maybe he’s eyeing me right now and you only think he’s looking at you. Or maybe he’s looking at you with no intention of fucking you. Maybe he fucked someone like you and is now looking to fuck someone like me. Maybe he doesn’t want to fuck, but be fucked, like those creepy old men who hang out in public bathrooms. Maybe he has fucked—or has been fucked already—and is in post-coital recumbence.

Pause. Women suck on their straws.

WOMAN 1. I still think he wants to fuck me.

WOMAN 2. I think he wants to fuck you, too.

WOMAN 3. Maybe you should fuck him.

WOMAN 1. I think I will fuck him.

WOMAN 2. I think you should fuck him.

WOMAN 3. Go ahead: fuck him.

WOMAN 1. Hold my drink.

Extends hands mechanically and releases drink; it hits the floor.

WOMAN 1. Okay. I’m going to fuck him.

Gestures in the direction of the back wall but the trips over a broken heel. She falls and rests on the floor.

WOMAN 1. Fuck! My heel is fucked!

BOUNCER advances.

BOUNCER. All right. Get the fuck out.

WOMAN 2. But she just came—I mean: she just got here.

BOUNCER. I don’t care.

(OFFSTAGE. I will know!)

BOUNCER. (Turns to door.) What the fuck is going on outside?

WOMAN 2. But she just came—I mean: she just got here.

WOMAN 1. Fuck! My heel is fucked!

WOMAN 3. Maybe. (Laughs hysterically.) 

(c) 2013

Alain-Robbe Grillet for Mood

I’ve always admired Grillet for his cinematic work, but his literature is just as good. He employed what I can only described as “cinematic” prose to describe details events in a carefully constructed scenario. Isn’t this the today to go, as writers, today? Modern society is drenched with filmbluraydvds and we’re still pondering the paucity of fiction unhampered by excessive (often syntactic) stylistic experimentation. I hope to see the emergence of a truly “cinematic” novel one day, and I thank Grillet for the initiating the undertaking. 

Theme #3: Jam

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