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A Novel Idea

or, a literary experiment.

Name:
Talesinger
Birthdate:
14 December 1976
Location:
The Freehold
External Services:
  • talesinger@livejournal.com
If you're here, you know me, so you know why we're all here. Feel free to leave comments, suggestions, and the like. That doesn't mean they'll be used or heeded. Now, for the unwashed masses who don't know who I really am, a brief intro:

Who am I? What am I? I’m the chosen one, the "threat", The Timekiller, Liz Phair's Supernova, the Liu Kang, the Hot Rod because Ultra Magnus was a passive-aggressive pussy, and I’m about to change. right before your eyes, from Bruce Banner to the Impetuous Bulk. I'll tell you what I can do: I can leap abstact concepts in a single bound, I’m faster than Booger on an Omega Moo, and I’m strong enough for a man, but made for a woman, most times.
I’m a phrase turner, a pop culture wizard that can accio left field references like Pinhead can summon chains, all while I use my bludger to send the quaffle right to your brainrack. I might not say anything specific but by the time I’m done you’ll at least know I’ve said something. I’m not a serious man, and I’ve got no serious plans to rage against machines, or make some scathing critical social commentary because there are those who can do that better and I’m not gonna give myself papercut stigmata and crucify myself on the cross of my own self importance just for your entertainment. I’m not gonna make a concerned effort to memorize my shit because my mind can’t take it. My thoughts are on speed and got A.D.D. and it’s gonna switch between "Is this set hot enough?" to “Do they like my shit” to “Damn I need another Beer” to “Damn that girl’s hot - I wonder what color her bra is?” I got ideas brewin’ up here like Juan Valdez and I’m not gonna stick a screaming creation back into the womb just to show I’m serious about deliverin’ a monologue, because this isn’t Shakespeare it’s a slam duh-duh-duh duh-duh-duh LET THE BOYS BE BOYS, and I’m layin’ eggs like a mother alien here and one by one they hatch and latch onto your face and burrow into your brain and when you least expect it, my shit’s gonna creep up on you like a phantom and take your ass out like it thought you were Nancy Kerrigan and you’ll be clutching your forehead screaming “Why?! WHY?!?!” meanwhile my shit’s gonna be skatin’ around the corner, like it was an edition of Family Circus and Not Me was making his escape like Papillon. What I’m gonna do is pull off some crazy juxtaposition like Dr. FRANK-EN-STEEN in his lab doin’ the monster mash and make people stamp their feet and go “Did he just drop a reference to Stone Cold Steve Austin next to a Thoreau quote?” And yes I did, and I’ll do it again, because your guess is as good as mine when the only point to this is to introduce you to me, give ya the warning that I’m here now, and while there’s oohing and ahhhing now there’ll be screaming and running later.



Never Miss The Mantra:


Get Down

Drink It Up

Bring It On

Take It Off


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