Welcome to Gaia! ::

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NuxE7TjYuo4&feature=related
(remember to listen while reading)



So it's Friday night and i seem to be hell bent on getting something started in the way of a fun and refreshing change of pace thread that may actually bring a smile to all our faces. Even if the humor is morbid and shocking.

The blue print for this one is trying to tie two concepts together. The first concept is to try to tell a Halloween story. Though i'm running without an outline and there is still much to figure out. This is what the guilds are all about. Making it happen and meeting deadlines regardless.


The second concept is the concept of the end: Apocalypse, Ragnarock, the end of days, the end of our lives, the end of the poetry section of this guild, the end of the guild itself, the end of gaia, the end of hope, the concept of any fateful end existing. Tying all concepts of the end together with post for post thoughts, quotes, jokes, and Vaudvillian/ anything goes/ freak-show aesthetics. This will bring a new source for thought provoking jabs at existence and preconceived thought. Much of my source material for the quotes that appear at the end of these posts are coming from a small collection of apocalypse themed ADBUSTER issues i have from the last 3 years or so.

It's stuff like this that will keep us all on our toes and seriously wierded out for future output. (this is gonna take some twists and turns like many threads created by me as of recent. Something is going to spark other members of this guild to participate. i just know it.)




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHL-QL525-M&NR=1




Left and Leaving


(you may ask yourself why she named this, can't be sure.... just let it happen.)



Now let us join a young prostitute right after she has been violated and strangled by a mystery John who promised her the tip of a lifetime if she just "let it happen". The tip was a syringe full of Protoblood glowing in that erie radioactive green. Like the fluid contents of a glow stick. Many of her young veins were collapsed and calloused from years of heroin, morphine, and other random drug cocktails. Her track marks were just starting to get out of hand. Perhaps that is why this outlandishly gauged needle was plunged through her breast plate. Directly into her heart.

When Anis came to right behind "The Works" at the corner of Michigan Avenue and Rosa Parks Boulevard. There was a strange and powerful energy permeating the fabric of absolutely everything. In the seedy end of Detroit's Porter Street area. Just outside the downtown hub. Bums, pushers, thieves, angry street thugs, and teams of working girls seem to appear in and out of the cold dark empty ghost town stretches that make the three mile length of the motor city that had always been known as the hooker district. One of three known to the Detroit police department. But this district was undoubtedly the leader. A place that seemed to exist outside of the very laws of time and space. Many of the street lights had been somehow shot out, bashed with rocks at an incredible distance (the average street light is about 22 feet up or so), or just out because it was a damaged part of the electrical grid that had never been repaired.

The result was these overwhelming black hole dark patches. patches that could eat up more than a city block stretch. Darkness expanses that could make the most hardened impoverished street wandering citizen feel that some specter immediately stole their sole as they left a house or building. The fall now becoming early winter it seemed. The coldest October anyone could remember. Anis was dressed to turn tricks and keep customers turned on.

But she wore a multilayered trench that seemed to act as some enchanted cloak. She was comfortable in any weather. She blended in to any shadow. The thickness of the strange alien fibers that made this trench seemed to muffle noises and gave her a strange confidence. The scent of the coat was always changing. It made no sense to anyone. It smelled at one moment like fresh baked bread. Then it would smell like a Barbecue. It was unlike any other garment. Most people thought that it was home made or custom tailored. But this trench was her best friend. As a child she had performed Pagan rituals with Sheila and the coven from school. Always drawing energy from the moon and warming the garment high over a fire. Meditations and prayers, herbs and potions. This coat was taken care of in a way that made Anis feel she was bullet proof and safer than most. Any time things got out of hand. She would nuzzle her body against the fabric of her coat and say "The elements protect me".




[O.K. People, so this may end up being my attempt at a Halloween story. No idea what's gonna become. That's the fun of sharing efforts in the raw. The unpolished Diamonds of the endless struggle to create. There is so much i have to do. Will be interesting to see what becomes. Everything i post may be edited as things progress day by day. Wasn't gonna post tonight but this has to begin somewhere. Here's to being in over you head.]


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YElmRLR1p8&feature=related