Wednesday, January 28, 2009
WE PULSE IN PINK
We Pulse in Pink (unreleased, unfinished, beta available) is a long-winded, tedious (but think “runner’s high” type tedious) defense of a newly dumped writer whose ex has set him to the impossible task of composing a “wordless letter” as a last ditch effort to win back her love. Justifiably frustrated by her inability of understanding how her boyfriend -- a writer who’s allegedly dedicated his life to words -- can argue to the fury of zeal that it is in fact the spirit of tone which trumps the tangibility of text in actual conversations while it’s text over tone in matters involving the written word, she deems our writer “poseur numero uno” and with defeated palms splayed flaccidly to the sky dissolves their relationship pending one final challenge: supply her with a “wordless letter” that must manage to express this grand elocution of tone while at the same time be reliant on no definite words to support it. Accomplish this and she will take him back. We Pulse in Pink is the writer’s quest to craft a rebuttal so flawless and vast it feels as if every word and non-word alike make up the fabric of (their) love, and hence, it is irrelevant what words he chooses to plead his case -- if they all lead back to her, can he not just kick back and smile weightlessly?
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5 comments:
Where is this beta.
If you go to my profile page it should be under its own "we pulse in pink" blog. If not, I can email you, but understand -- this version is tantamount to this lame Cardinals v Steelers Superbowl you are about to blog about.
Gimme a summer and I'll get it up to par with the Steelers v Eagles one we almost got.
Gimme a salary and a year and I'll get it up to par with the Colts v Giants Manning Bowl we all got robbed of.
Yeah I think I'm going to live blog my friend's super bowl party instead.
Woah. I apologize anyhow. I made the mistake all season of assuming Warner's gross personal relationship with Jesus meant his skills on the field were obscured by the same smoke and mirrors it takes to really believe one has a personal relationship with Jesus in the first place. Now I'm finally seeing how handy buddying up with "that guy who always knew I'd be here" would be in the face of 300 pound beasts who get paid millions of dollars a year to do nothing but hand you your own ass. I almost became a Cardinals fan last night, narrowly avoiding yet another brush with Faith.
I think you'll like this: http://shankspeare.blogspot.com/
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