Igor

Elevate form over function to get at less easily articulable truths.

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Fri Aug 19, 2016 1:25 am

He was thinking how he can allude the people who appeared so ominous on the plane. Were they terrorists? Did he ticked them off in some way, for them to follow him out of the airport, for they cast suspicious glances at him, and seemed to meet eyes, when they noticed I found my baggage and quickly got theirs? And who was that divine stuardess who grabbed him aside and slipped her address into his coat pocket? Should he go to her flat, or was she somehow connected to the men appearently shadowing him. He felt hot under the collar, despite the autumn winds pushing him along the boulevard.

Maybe I will sit down I this cafe, and gather my senses, he thought. Evening was coming up fast, a bell tolled far, and he felt alone, and sick.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby Fixed Cross » Fri Aug 19, 2016 10:15 pm

Suddenly, as he managed to drowse off somewhat and his nerves were granted some unwrangling, he had a vision of a shadow that he knew belonged to the soul of his follower. It was then that he discerned that he... that it... that she was a woman.

With a violent jerk he got to his feet, his chair falling backward clattering and he staggering. Then he sat down but the chair was not upright, so he cut himself some on its metal legs. Bleeding lightly from the inner thigh, he wondered what the hell. He looked up to his premonition and saw the woman bending over him -- no, it was the waitress.

She extended him a hand. He did not take it but scrambled to his feet, apologizing profusely.

"did you see that woman?" he asked her, knowing full he had seen her in his nerve endings only. But she replied; yes, there was a woman walking by and waving at you. You were so enthusiastic that you fell.

Yes, yes... Igor muttered.
The strong do what they can, the weak accept what they must.
- Thucydides

Image

Thunderbolt steers all things.
User avatar
Fixed Cross
Doric Usurper
 
Posts: 6993
Joined: Fri Jul 15, 2011 12:53 am
Location: Thrudheim

Re:

Postby Meno_ » Sat Aug 20, 2016 1:13 am

His fear abated somewhat, when he realized, that the night was almost complete, the woman whom he almost recognized may have been the stewardess walking by, or maybe it was the waitress, who superimposed upon some past semblance with the waitress. Or, maybe it was neither, or another follower, dressed as a man would have.

Were his nerves on edge? He ordered another double whisky, and began his inner monologue of trying to figure out what to do next.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Sat Aug 20, 2016 1:20 am

He thought of going to the woman's hotel, but decided on his , The Mandarin Oriental, shook up from the aura of the three superimposed women imposing on his depleted consciousness. Just go there and wait and see.



If there was some leak to his whereabouts, then
certainly it would be -hoove him to lay low. No one would gather, someone in his position would act like they could check into a grand hotel. The alias was perfect.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Sat Aug 20, 2016 1:35 am

As it was getting late, and darkness set a lurid contrast between the throbbing red neon and the deep azure, he got up, his legs slightly tingling from the abrasion with the wrought iron cafe table, and then an eerily similar thing happened, the waitress zoomed out of the recesses behind the arabesque curtain, and as quickly beside him whispered a meet you tomorrow here, same time, then as quickly disappeared. As he stepped unto the streetcar, he wondered about all this, weighing it against the possibility, that perhaps it was just another occasion of women being attracted to him.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby Fixed Cross » Wed Sep 21, 2016 12:24 am

At night, some heels clicked on the tiles in the patio, down from where Igor slept with the window open, the white curtain fluttering in the wind. A staircase was ascended, the one that led up to his door. Then he heard a soft scratching, and a meeowing, and he thought this woman should not be an actress as that doesnt sound like a cat at all.
The strong do what they can, the weak accept what they must.
- Thucydides

Image

Thunderbolt steers all things.
User avatar
Fixed Cross
Doric Usurper
 
Posts: 6993
Joined: Fri Jul 15, 2011 12:53 am
Location: Thrudheim

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Wed Sep 21, 2016 3:50 am

But she must have been because she had that way of inducing delirium, by invoking the gods of love, as if playfully, as a kitten would, as they brace against the onslaught of unfamiliar signals.

She said hi, how are you this morning, in a voice magnetically resonant, while his wife was there. He wanted to test the waters for sure, in fact reality itself, as he came out of the pool. This Europe, he thought, was very faux, in fact this old town reminded him of Nashville in a very old movie with a young sounding title called ' Sweet bird of youth' with Geraldine Page he thought, no he liked her better in summer and smoke.

Long time ago, and then , she sort of lingered on, also testing reality, too long he thought, much too long. It really is a torture, then , but he was different, although she would not check by the pool, and she was used to his long evening swims.

Nashville in the closing days of the summer, the waitress was from Anaheim, and came here to come to study voice. Told her jokingly, kiddo, see you one of these days performing in the Grand Ol' Opry.

And she was still there, and he was dying inside, every part of his body in a fight or flight mode, though she was probably small, at those important places, and the whole thing truly psychological.

Who cares who, what Reasonable man, calls it, call it as the come, out to prove something, the pride of inner resilience forming a comradeship much more elevating, a battle surmised, yet the war far from over, she and I both know it, far more satisfactory on the long run, but alas, always to the grave, a source of absolute total regret, a kind of death.

Then he came back, leaning out, she still, but long not looking, as if to diminish, that sadness she also knew, was not meant except as an antithesis.

A salve , a mystery, the reality never clarified, but the possibility of exasperating and formless ,into her
Death, of her progenitors, and his, somehow somewhere meeting on another level, then just mere identity. Yet he knew well, that it is this identity, that brought him into the death of absolute loss, she becoming a dying ember, whose spark, sexless and forlorn, in some god forsaken place, can make it up, like some student, who at one point missed an assignment.

She must have been a plant, mixing identities, somehow so different and enchanting, into a form, uniform of used up feelings, thoughts and actions, as if he was still in idahoe, not Tennessee.

She was more like a Mata Hari then an actor, she must see things positively, her energies bent on greater things, then a mere rush in her room, then with his wife, she could have known the probable outcome, and a regretful devastation which may follow.

She being small may have little consequence about it, she would have not cared about it, as he may have surprised her, but it is her form, her bearing, her southern accent, that was totally devastating. Her postures and affectations almost deprived him of his senses on account, but the transformation required nothing else, the energy becoming almost unbearable, as Celine and Kafka related of their versions of an America they never even, ever set foot in.

Then he as with his wife she saying what took you so long, and he found an excuse to go out to the he car, forgotten his glasses, and he thinking all was lost, she was gone, inside her room.

Was she planted by God himself there only to drive him mad, for now he shall never know, never have a clear picture of his, or her reality. Is he destroyed, or, still among the living?

Does an abstract infatuation, drawn intentionally grotesque, exert that much anguish, as he could sense in her demeanor ? But oh, well, then there is still time to work it out, out of his Narcissastic preoccupation, so that the goddess' vanity shall not uniformly destroy him.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby Fixed Cross » Thu Oct 13, 2016 5:06 am

His priapism was killing him as he stumbled to the bathroom in a shower of gold, sprinkled around him like one of those childrens fountain. Half in a dream he touched the rainbow, the yellow key he thought, and she moaned "let's get out of Nashville".
The strong do what they can, the weak accept what they must.
- Thucydides

Image

Thunderbolt steers all things.
User avatar
Fixed Cross
Doric Usurper
 
Posts: 6993
Joined: Fri Jul 15, 2011 12:53 am
Location: Thrudheim

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Fri Oct 14, 2016 12:47 am

But his hard on , as painful and noticeable, was really appreciated by her, just the same, for she knew that females were at a tremendous disadvantage in that respect, for she need not turn on as he did, for he could be fooled by no visible signs of excitebility , for she lacked such requirements. For her to feign excitement in the s no qualifiers of what succeeded initial genital repose, it was his duty to warm her up, after insertion.

She really valued his condition, and discouraged him from seeking professional help.

She thought to herself that such a dramatic condition, if treated could result in the very opposite , namely , a constant and unenduring flacidity, whereupon, she most certainly interpret as invitation to bed down with his young cousin, who did view her noticibly as they left Nashville to Memphis a couple days ago.

She further thought, that youth is exhibited and is preferable in duration of appearing excitement, than in general body appearance, such as seen in suppleness of body tone, and well defined abs.

So instead of seeking help, he tried to contain his pain, and sought more and more enhancements. There were no limits in the desire to possess and keep her, that's how much he disliked his own cousin, and tried to outdo his growing arduor for her.

No they will definitely stay in Nashville,until their trip to Utah. Will his cousin follow them like a blind sheep?
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby barbarianhorde » Thu Nov 17, 2016 6:25 pm

Igor stumbled outside after the so manieth ejaculation on her thirsty body and still the great phallusking would not subside. She stood behind the window in her open robe watching him as he naked stumbled on the road and across it to the well in the field where he would piss in a great yellow arc. The red dragon bouncing waist height did not relent in extracting moans and fingerplay from her. For a fleeting moment she wished she was the well... that pissing well, the well of her wish, the receptacle of what she wished for... all that gold, wasted. She withdrew to the sheets, and soiled them some more.
It is true that liberty is precious; so precious that it must be carefully rationed.
~ Владимир Ильич Ульянов Ленин

THE HORNED ONE
User avatar
barbarianhorde
Thinker
 
Posts: 905
Joined: Mon Mar 23, 2009 2:26 pm

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Fri Nov 18, 2016 2:10 am

She really freaked, as she observed him leaving, and after he had gone, suddenly terrified she would share the fate of Ariadne, pining for his next incarnation.

Why did he kill her fate as Walhalla now a fading dream? He, never ever to be? But perhaps this is not to all avail, maybe even AI will befriend her if she can only reconstruct herself, and him as she understands him, and herself again via him, in an ever repeating cycle. if she could just hold on , even the most simple shadow left in another eternities hidden window,
where maybe while staring out of she will see herself looking back, at herself. Can this be? Or science's pessimistic entropic derangement play havoc on the
absolute imminence behind it All?



As his shadow turned from green to blue to deep

purple, finally settling under the perfumed secret
garden, where The Artist heavily underscored with black brush into it's backward spiral.

She will become a person again freeing herself from suspension between the machine and the animal, again in front of warm hearts her tea will sip through fingers , while the cat gently purring under hand, the other crossed, the white smoke swirling in some winter scape, a cloud blowing his phallus into strange figures upon the approaching night sky.

She thinks he will someday come back , recognizable perhaps or not in her present dereliction.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby Fixed Cross » Wed Dec 14, 2016 6:53 pm

Now she wakes up every night and stumbles to the kitchen, crawls into a corner, and grasps around her for his scent and his filth. She rolls around in the grease next to the fridge... She rubs herself with tomato juice and banana peel.
The strong do what they can, the weak accept what they must.
- Thucydides

Image

Thunderbolt steers all things.
User avatar
Fixed Cross
Doric Usurper
 
Posts: 6993
Joined: Fri Jul 15, 2011 12:53 am
Location: Thrudheim

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Thu Dec 15, 2016 1:19 am

Then she takes the half a bottle of Royal Crown and takes a long swig. This will cure the void.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby Fixed Cross » Thu Dec 15, 2016 7:02 pm

Igor walks along the highway and finds a dead racoon. He skins it, builds a fire and roasts it, but preserves the fail, for a hat.
The strong do what they can, the weak accept what they must.
- Thucydides

Image

Thunderbolt steers all things.
User avatar
Fixed Cross
Doric Usurper
 
Posts: 6993
Joined: Fri Jul 15, 2011 12:53 am
Location: Thrudheim

Re: Igor

Postby Fixed Cross » Sun Dec 18, 2016 12:13 am

All this has Igors penis still burning, plus his balls are becoming aware of a singing sensation. He sits against a tree, and moans. A squirrel comes up to him and smells his finger, then climbs on top of his head, and from there on mounts the tree. Igor faintly smiles and mutters some squirrely words. He feels the unpleasant sensations find their way into the old Earth, draws the mineral spirit up into his scrotum, and is off into the cold starry night.
The strong do what they can, the weak accept what they must.
- Thucydides

Image

Thunderbolt steers all things.
User avatar
Fixed Cross
Doric Usurper
 
Posts: 6993
Joined: Fri Jul 15, 2011 12:53 am
Location: Thrudheim

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Thu Jan 19, 2017 1:04 am

He trudges along, with his painful hard on, and no relief in sight. He thinks of his loved ones left behind, and looks at an approaching tree. Is this real ? ,he asks himself, am I going toward the tree or has that tree began movement with metamorphized roots for legs?

No no not possible. Or is it a case of seeing mirages in this vast desert of heat and eternal lust?

Or may be I am not coming to terms with reality here, thus my burning eyes.

Thus musing on, Jesus'Prophetic words come to him, bearing the advice of going in get the eyes, if the perceive something so painful.

No, he thinks, no no no no. Carry on you bastard Christian soldier, and rather than any more thoughts
of eye gouging, he masturbates quickly to the vision of that lusty dish left behind. Rather go blind from this drench wasted ,then that.

"Ughhhhh", he shivers at the thought.

As the sun sets over the sandy waves of the horizon, he thinks back to the green pastures, the smoky curls drifting out of his domicile, nestled in the bluish haze of a glimmering winter wonderland.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby barbarianhorde » Thu Mar 23, 2017 3:26 pm

Now in a dream there is Igor, in one hand a loaf bread with butter on the other, an ass of a small woman who tries to get buttered also. The fine butt cheeks wrestle to the bread and touch. Igor wakes up, buttered and makes breakfast for the sleaze in his bed, all 6. He done groceries like a man.

Now he wakes up again and in pain, oh no it is pleasure. And it is gone, ebbing away. The laughter of girls. This is a confusing day and it has just begun Igor thinks.

His mother sits in her electric rocking chair. Squueee-squuaaa-squee-squuaa.

The moon rises in front of the sun and it gets dark. She says her name is Boubonne and she winks. He winks too. Why? Beats him.

Sleep and wake are mixed like that cocktail that day, was that this day?
It is true that liberty is precious; so precious that it must be carefully rationed.
~ Владимир Ильич Ульянов Ленин

THE HORNED ONE
User avatar
barbarianhorde
Thinker
 
Posts: 905
Joined: Mon Mar 23, 2009 2:26 pm

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Thu Mar 23, 2017 7:46 pm

His mother Boubonne is rocking yes, upstairs. He is afraid to go there because he thinks perhaps he is still dreaming. Maybe he really is dreaming of Boubonne, as not really alive.



No he is awake, and Boubonne is real , she must be,
she was yesterday. But then she is getting on in age,

and who knows she may have died in her sleep. He is
very anxious because he has never left the house, since her illness. He is home bound with her, and by now, after ten years of taking care of her, he had
become reclusive. It's just tv and snacks, and
constant craving for booze.

He has drawn all shades because he thinks the CIA is
bugging him for his comments about the governor.


He has gained about eighty pounds since becoming a prisoner in his moms house, up to 250 lb.


Must ring up vons for s new shipment of food. Maybe I should go up to mom, to see what she wants coffee
or tea, he thinks, but is apprehensive about what he
may find there. There is no squeaking or rocking now. Maybe she is sleeping.


And then shrivels herself again, and thinks it's too early to get up. The pet owl hoots some and he dozes off.

There is sound coming from the street, the kids are arriving to the school across the street, and the cars seem to cruise very slowly up the sizzling street, as if in retarded motion. All is still, and she can be heard breathing slow, with regular hisses of air enimating through irregularly set teeth.

She looks at him, as if outside of her body. Gently, very gently now, the hiss grows louder and insistent.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby barbarianhorde » Fri Mar 24, 2017 12:20 am

Dad was on the roof, chopping wood.
It is true that liberty is precious; so precious that it must be carefully rationed.
~ Владимир Ильич Ульянов Ленин

THE HORNED ONE
User avatar
barbarianhorde
Thinker
 
Posts: 905
Joined: Mon Mar 23, 2009 2:26 pm

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Fri Mar 24, 2017 1:25 am

barbarianhorde wrote:Dad was on the roof, chopping wood.


Hope he doesent fall in after he discovers what he did.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Fri Mar 24, 2017 1:26 am

But then sinking from the ridiculous to the sublime is no easy achievement.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby barbarianhorde » Sat Mar 25, 2017 8:25 pm

Igor had given dad a blunt figure saw, and dad was now working at the chimney with it.
The sound was quite unbearable, but at least, dad wasnt hacking his little ax into the roof now. Mom was semi-awake.

Igor went into the cellar and got out some plum-wine to put mom back to sleep. As the purple was leaking from the corners of her mouth and he dabbed it with her undershirt, he heard dad call out on the roof, it must be an airplane he saw overhead. "cum get me, ya thugs! Ya no good sons of bitches!"

Igor went back to bed.
It is true that liberty is precious; so precious that it must be carefully rationed.
~ Владимир Ильич Ульянов Ленин

THE HORNED ONE
User avatar
barbarianhorde
Thinker
 
Posts: 905
Joined: Mon Mar 23, 2009 2:26 pm

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Sun Mar 26, 2017 12:09 am

And he dreamed.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby Meno_ » Sun Mar 26, 2017 12:15 am

And he dreamed of meaningless people to him, :Jacob, Fixed Cross, woke up trying to think who these may be. They were the earlier literati, the old lady hissed, feigning sleep, as she, terrified of her son, listened intently to the do about son top of the roof. And Igor saw, suddenly a black crow alight into the powdery white snow--fall.

He knew soon, he could, into the white blue yonder, that he will fly, and merge with all sympathetic souls, alive and frozen into their own sense.
Meno_
Philosopher
 
Posts: 2617
Joined: Tue Dec 08, 2015 2:39 am

Re: Igor

Postby barbarianhorde » Sun Mar 26, 2017 5:50 pm

Igor now dreamed of a beggar in threads who came to him with a golden cup and asked him to piss in it. It was a weird dream to be honest.
He woke up and a big Hawaiian girl with an even bigger ass was massaging him like she was kneading dough. Upstairs the squee squaa-ing had stopped, and instead there was a snoring.
Igot grabbed the girl by her hair and pulled her away. Enough! He went to the bathroom and stared in the mirror, wanting to see what was behind it. He hoped to see back into his dream, where the beggard was with the golden cup, and then he pissed in the sink.
It is true that liberty is precious; so precious that it must be carefully rationed.
~ Владимир Ильич Ульянов Ленин

THE HORNED ONE
User avatar
barbarianhorde
Thinker
 
Posts: 905
Joined: Mon Mar 23, 2009 2:26 pm

PreviousNext

Return to Creative Writing



Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users