This town is broken. This town has always been broken. It was founded by profiteers and failed miners who couldn't hack it in the hills. It is a city of broken dreams, rampant crime, and filth, and we wouldn't have it any other way. Hell, a month after I moved here, they shot the Good Humor Man. Who the hell shoots the Good Humor Man? I mean, even tweakers were children once, right?
Unemployment has reached 38% reported, and those of us who have jobs have stapled our asses to our seats. And this job...this job...
This job is driving us all insane. Our engineer has become a meglomaniac, my boss has turned into Inspector Cleusau's boss from The Pink Panther movies, the warehouse manager has found something vile that he thinks is Jesus...the list goes on and on. The one sane manager is only sane because of his grief, after The Worst Thing In The World happened to his family and, come to think of it, I'm not sure you can call that sanity. I honestly think this place is killing us all, and there's no way out.
And me? Ho ho! I have lots of pills, and sometimes I sit in my office chair and enjoy the feeling of my bones melting...that is, when I'm not imagining that every conversation I pass by is about me and ways to get rid of me, so they can steal my Jeep. Then I slam coffee all day, and the combination brings on the distinct feeling that I'll just lose it one day, and the whole world will fall out of my ass.
This job, this town, puts Frank Miller's most dystopian imagery to shame, only it's not physically dark. The sun bakes everything until it turns into a foul powder, like dogshit left to cook on a sidewalk in August. All the darkness here is on the inside, where you can't see it until it's too late.
I hate this city. I hate it for all it's filth and degeneracy, and I hate it for the people who for some reason cling to existence in a city with no soul. And I love this city, and I'll never, ever leave it.
Or Kill Me.
Dear Roger,
I live in a green Utopia where everyone is intent on making sure we all know that Everything Is Okay. The economic boom of the 1990's that skyrocketed the average price of a 3-bedroom home from $35,000 to $350,000 was GOOD for us... so wages couldn't quite keep up and the cost of living made it impossible for adults to live without roommates, but we were PROSPEROUS, right? So Nike pulled out and Intel pulled out and a few other giants pulled out and took their big factories to Texas where they can pollute at will, and the economy crashed and housing prices never really went down and rents went up because there's no rent control and a flood of recently-foreclosed-upon desperately needing a place to live... but that's OK, because everything's so green here, we're so friendly, and remember, Keep Portland Weird! It's Different Here! We Recycle! Portland, The City That Works!
Unemployment's at 12.5%, but that's not the bad news. The bad news is that if you're just an ordinary working stiff, you can expect to get paid $12/hour for manual labor, while paying $1200/month in rent on that kind of so/so apartment. You can expect to be trying to buy a house for $240k that the seller paid $20k for in 1996, in what used to be the ghetto but is now "gentrified", wherein "gentrified" means the old houses have been bought up by white fake hippies with blond fake dreadlocks. Smugly vegan Prius-driving hippies, who do coding for the few big firms left here and wear $60 hemp T-shirts sewn by the same children that sew Old Navy's $8 cotton T-shirts. They'll tell you, sure enough, with a big white smile, that Portland is Great! We Love it Here! And they won't mention the old lady who used to rent the house across the street, rented it for 22 years, got evicted because the new owners wanted to double her rent and she couldn't pay it, and she had to move out to the new ghettoes in the suburbs where rents are cheap again in the ticky-tacky warrens that were upscale in 1994 but are slowly peeling apart layer by layer now. They won't even think about her.
Everything is great here... it's so green, and friendly, and we recycle. I'll never move.
Yes, it's all become so sterile, so clean, so nice. They tell me that every day, which makes me wonder why I want to cry when I pass those billboards that exhort me to do things that might make an actual difference. You know the ones. One by me shows Washington crossing the Delaware, and it says "By George, We DID It!...Leadership, pass it on". Another one shows a man running a marathon while pushing his disabled son in a wheelchair, saying "He's been behind his son for 65 marathons...Dedication, pass it on", etc You've seen them.
Nobody's making money from those billboards, and Clearchannel sure as hell isn't donating the space, so someone, somewhere, is at least TRYING to make things better. But then I hear the radio, and Rush Limbaugh is telling me to hate my fellow citizens...And I see the TV, and Jack Bauer is explaining why torture is the height of heroic American behavior, and it all turns back into filth and shit.
So it's also all so dirty. I'm told to have pride in my city, while the city does everything it can to fuck me over. The new police traffic crackdown is actually titled - and I do not kid - "Revenue Enhancement Intiatives", and the money generated isn't spent on schools or the bus system or soup kitchens, it's spent on buying more of those damn robocop cameras to generate MORE revenue.
I'm told to be proud of my country, because we represent the last, best hope of mankind. Apparently, this hope involves indefinite detention, torture, and a legal system that would make Kafka shit his pants. We have 5% of the world's population and 25% of its convicts, and we still scream for our leaders to be "tough on crime". And while it's true that nobody seems to actually starve to death in America (besides those people walking, you know the ones, and they don't count), what we instead do is beat them to death with the low paying jobs and high rents that you describe.
I'm told to stay clean, to "just say no" to drugs, but every other commercial (no joke) on the TV is for those damned pills. Those pills that make you hard, those pills that take the edge off, those pills that you NEED because our society has become so fundamentally SICK that we can't even SLEEP anymore, unless we have Lunesta or Ambien CR to bludgeon us unconcious every night.
It's all gone horribly, horribly wrong, and I can't find a way out. There has to be a way out. We got into this mess, we should be smart enough to be able to escape it before we drown in the very river of shit we have created. The Black Iron Prison is no longer a metaphor. It's real, and it's there, and the bars are too thick to file through, and too narrow to see...until you look closely, and shit, there they are, and they're all engraved with the names of the doomed souls that occupied this hell before us, but I can't bring myself to read the names, because one day I'll see my own name there.
May God have mercy on our souls.
I live in Crow Town. There's only about 15 thousand people here, but there are approximately 20 pizza places. There are also about 100 churches and every one of them thinks anyone who goes to any of the others is probably going to end up in hell. The rent here is comparable to the rent in the nearest big city and the only reason this is not a good thing for property owners is because the majority of renters turn the places they rent into roach infested piles of garbage with feces, human, canine, or feline, moldering away in the corners. For some reason the local white trash have taken to crack use rather than the more traditional small town Meth and the business is profitable enough that periodically Gangs come in from other states just to take over the local distribution network.
The unemployment rate is 13.7% but that doesn't take into account the families in which the parents have never had a job and simply continue popping out children so that the welfare benefits will continue until they are old enough to collect social security. It also doesn't cover the fact that the only jobs in town that are widely available that require training are in nursing. So if you aren't ready to change diapers and gt pissed on by those physically incapable of wiping their own asses you can look forward to making minimum wage.
The rates for most crimes, murder, theft, rape etc. Are at the same level you'd find in a large, violent city. The rates for incest, child abuse and especcially sexual predation on children are much, much higher. Within 4 blocks of my hours (that being the radius that I am required to be notified if a predator moves into) there are 5 sexual predators. Incest has a tradition here, so there are people wandering the street who are the product of a few generations of inbreeding who can't really tell just where they are going, or why.
In the next town over, a much smaller town with only 3 stoplights, there lives the grand wizard of the KKK.
I don't love this town, but my wife does, and my daughter does too. so I am probably stuck here for the rest of my life.
Quote from: BabylonHoruv on October 07, 2009, 07:35:41 PM
The rates for most crimes, murder, theft, rape etc. Are at the same level you'd find in a large, violent city.
Rural crime rates are always higher than the "big, violent cities", per capita. Always.
More people per thousand do drugs, because there's nothing else to do. More people get drunk and beat their spouses and/or children, because there's nothing to hope for and no reason has ever been given to NOT do it. More theft occurs, because there's less police resources to stop it. The schools are worse, even if the buildings are better, poison religion thrives for the same reason drugs do, hell it IS a drug, and racism is an accepted belief system, because they don't KNOW anyone who isn't like them, so they have no counter-examples to contrast against the preachers of hate. Welfare is rampant because there is no industry, but the recipients of it are the first to rail against
those people sucking up "their" tax dollars in the cities.
And there's a Bluebell Ice Cream commercial that uses the word "country" 6 times in 40 seconds, because we've all been taught that the cities are the problem, probably because they're full of smudgy people who have the wrong values.
And the beat goes on.
I live in the Promised Land, except the Chosen People are all trying to get out. There are no jobs here anymore, and if you're really lucky you can get a house for half a million dollars. The Chosen people still control it though, they keep just enough people living nearby to make sure you're never more than 2 blocks from one of their churches, and you can't buy booze except from the special government owned stores where they charge 3 times what they do in the rest of the country because there's no competition.
But we have History right, we had the Olympics, and thats Good for the economy.. We have all these new roads and stadiums. Except people had to build those, and they had bring in even more people from outside the promised land. Only now there are no more roads and stadiums to build, and all those people are still here, looking for jobs.
Well, I lied about there being no jobs, nobody hires their own employees at least, instead they hire a different companies employees, because then they don't have to notice a job that used to pay 25 dollars an hour now pays 12, and hey, they save a whole 5% once you factor in the higher overhead. They feel less guilty about the layoffs too. I mean sure, the people they hired never screwed up, but the managers did, and those people can find a job with the new manager if they just take another dollar an hour less. If they can get an interview, somewhere along the way it got to the point that they don't even read your resume anymore, they got thousands of them, its a lottery system now.
And I will never get out.
Quote from: Requia ☣ on October 07, 2009, 08:03:12 PM
I live in the Promised Land, except the Chosen People are all trying to get out.
Holy shit, that's news banner worthy if anything ever was.
And, yeah, the Olympics are great for that. Especially in Bejiing, but anywhere, really. Attract your prey with juicy jobs, like one of those pitcher plant carniverous thingies, and then let them sit at the bottom, digesting. Forever.
And just for kicks, sometimes you even get to bulldoze peoples' houses and businesses, all for a cynical few months of pretending that the Olympics are in any way relevant anymore.
Something's
wrong, Requia. Something's terribly wrong, but I can't see what it is, through all the noise and lights and Bluebell Ice Cream commercials that tell me how wonderful everything is, somewhere other than where I am. You can fool lots of monkeys by telling them that the grass is greener on the other side, and this fact is not lost on people in a position to take advantage of it.
But I am no longer fooled. I just don't know what to do about it.
i am in the city now and have been for five years, the people piss me off there are to many of them, they crowed around in swarms, in the stores and on the highway and my hackles go up i want air, i want a few feet of free space, get the fuck away from me, the constant swarming is on my last nerve and i am about to throw a hard elbow into the fat gut of the next person that pushes past to close, but this is where the jobs are this is where you can make a living.... or can i? i am barley half employed with long-shots and long waits for prospects, the water smells like ass when i turn on the faucet and i still cant get used to the taste even after five years, but this is where you need to be to have a future.... how can you have a future someplace you cant stand the present? and the ghetto.... i live in a "nice" area but a few blocks away is dangerous not the kind of place you should be alone after dark, but i could walk there in under 5 minutes how can where i am be "nice" in such close proximity to neighborhoods the get featured in gangsta rap?
there is a part of my brain that tells me men were not made to live like this and no pill no job no better neighborhood or bottled water will shut it down
I can see whats wrong, or maybe just part of it. Somebody stole our language. 'Right to work' now means you have no rights in the workplace, and 'Freedom' means getting your phone calls listened to so we can catch the people who were once responsible for less deaths than our shitty healthcare system causes every month. 'Free Market' stopped meaning open competition, and started meaning letting corporations do whatever they want with government money.
Everything gets twisted up so bad that you can't actually say anything unless its what They want you to say. Only I don't know who They are, so I can't fight Them, or find Them.
But I think I might start stealing Their words.
Well, fuck. The sirens woke me up again last night. Turned on the news this morning to find out a little girl had been shot, playing on her front porch. Of course, no one saw nuthin'.
This city hates itself, and like a cutter who decides to go just that much deeper, its life is seeping out all over the concrete. They call it "civil pride" but it's more like Urban Blight vs. Urban Sprawl. Each year, another swarm of graduated rich white kids with daddy's trust fund spill out of the dorms and into the streets like a popped siphilitic boil, looking to hang around and suck off of whatever remnants of culture the city desperately clings to... And they need somewhere to stay. So the people who work for $7 a day to keep this town running, to clean the puke out of the gutters and keep the gears turning, they have to squeeze in a little tighter. They can't afford to live in the neighborhoods they grew up in. They can't afford to send their kids to a school where there aren't bars on the windows, and not enough textbooks to go around. They see their dreams of "making it better for my kids" shatter like their car's window so some crackhead can look under the seats for spare change. And so the sirens call out into the night, too late on purpose, the final sound of a city only pretending to care.
And the worst part is, no one even asked what a 7-year old kid was doing outside on the porch at 3 am in the first place.
Quote from: fomenter on October 07, 2009, 08:51:03 PM
there is a part of my brain that tells me men were not made to live like this and no pill no job no better neighborhood or bottled water will shut it down
Me, too. But then another part of me remembers then ending of Kurt Vonnegut's
Player Piano. Monkeys made this shit, and if it all disappeared tomorrow, we'd just build it again, because monkeys are slow learners and besides, you
need our newest pill. It's purple.
Here in my beautiful green paradise, here where the housing boom never really quit and the unemployment boom never really took off and everyone works for a temp agency and no one has insurance and no one works full time, here in the land of the eccentric, the land of individualism, the land of the setting sun, here where the eastern horizon is marked with massive mountains that used to be snow-capped all summer but now are gray, here where the western horizon is still a wall of green but soon may become a wall of identical upscale housing developments, here where two of the most massive rivers in the country flow together and one of the most disadvantaged neighborhoods in the city lies at the tip of the peninsula, where there used to be vast beauty but now is only vast plains of shipping containers and unwanted brand-new cars, here where the summers are unbearably beautiful and the winters are mild, here in Utopia.
We drink more here than anywhere else, drink until we forget that we don't make enough to pay the mortgage and we forget that love keeps coming and going but mostly going and we missed opportunities or threw them away, we should have spent that money on fixing the furnace instead of strippers and now it's getting cold and everyone's taking happiness pills, everyone's not supposed to drink because they're taking happiness pills but they drink anyway and sometimes the happiness pills and the strippers and the alcohol don't work and they walk the short walk out to one of our 14-soon-to-be-15 convenient bridges and drop over the railing and off the face of the earth and sometimes someday a corpse is found but most of the time it never is.
Or they use guns or pills or alcohol or razors and sometimes those work, too, in Utopia. You keep hearing that's all wrong, there's nothing wrong, the stories aren't right they're misinterpreting people are happy this is the best place on earth, we love it here it's so beautiful friendly environmental most habitable city on earth there's nothing wrong but I can feel the edge and I know THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG and I can't
get
out.
Quote from: Requia ☣ on October 07, 2009, 08:52:57 PM
I can see whats wrong, or maybe just part of it. Somebody stole our language. 'Right to work' now means you have no rights in the workplace, and 'Freedom' means getting your phone calls listened to so we can catch the people who were once responsible for less deaths than our shitty healthcare system causes every month. 'Free Market' stopped meaning open competition, and started meaning letting corporations do whatever they want with government money.
Everything gets twisted up so bad that you can't actually say anything unless its what They want you to say. Only I don't know who They are, so I can't fight Them, or find Them.
But I think I might start stealing Their words.
Okay. But not on Their networks. They own the ball AND the ballpark, Requia, but the price of admission to their ball clubs is cheap. Cheap as dirt, cheap as a smile, cheap as your soul.
But you're on to something, here. I have to think about this, but things are a little fuzzy right now. I'll get back to this later, when my head is a little less twisty.
Quote from: LMNO on October 07, 2009, 08:54:34 PM
Well, fuck. The sirens woke me up again last night. Turned on the news this morning to find out a little girl had been shot, playing on her front porch. Of course, no one saw nuthin'.
This city hates itself, and like a cutter who decides to go just that much deeper, its life is seeping out all over the concrete. They call it "civil pride" but it's more like Urban Blight vs. Urban Sprawl. Each year, another swarm of graduated rich white kids with daddy's trust fund spill out of the dorms and into the streets like a popped siphilitic boil, looking to hang around and suck off of whatever remnants of culture the city desperately clings to... And they need somewhere to stay. So the people who work for $7 a day to keep this town running, to clean the puke out of the gutters and keep the gears turning, they have to squeeze in a little tighter. They can't afford to live in the neighborhoods they grew up in. They can't afford to send their kids to a school where there aren't bars on the windows, and not enough textbooks to go around. They see their dreams of "making it better for my kids" shatter like their car's window so some crackhead can look under the seats for spare change. And so the sirens call out into the night, too late on purpose, the final sound of a city only pretending to care.
And the worst part is, no one even asked what a 7-year old kid was doing outside on the porch at 3 am in the first place.
Where is the Good Reverend Jeremiah Wright, now that we finally need him? He was right, you know. He was right about everything, and everyone laughed. Everyone except me...I understood him. I feel his rage, though with cosmetic differences.
And that little girl, LMNO...she was "in the wrong place at the wrong time", because apparently, the shooter was Johnny on the fucking spot.
She was lubrication, LMNO. She was a little 7 year old cannister of open gear lube. We can't let the machine's gears go dry. The Machine is a tree that requires the blood of little children. It is its natural manure.
Forgive me, Thomas Jefferson.
Quote from: Nigel on October 07, 2009, 08:55:10 PM
Here in my beautiful green paradise, here where the housing boom never really quit and the unemployment boom never really took off and everyone works for a temp agency and no one has insurance and no one works full time, here in the land of the eccentric, the land of individualism, the land of the setting sun, here where the eastern horizon is marked with massive mountains that used to be snow-capped all summer but now are gray, here where the western horizon is still a wall of green but soon may become a wall of identical upscale housing developments, here where two of the most massive rivers in the country flow together and one of the most disadvantaged neighborhoods in the city lies at the tip of the peninsula, where there used to be vast beauty but now is only vast plains of shipping containers and unwanted brand-new cars, here where the summers are unbearably beautiful and the winters are mild, here in Utopia.
We drink more here than anywhere else, drink until we forget that we don't make enough to pay the mortgage and we forget that love keeps coming and going but mostly going and we missed opportunities or threw them away, we should have spent that money on fixing the furnace instead of strippers and now it's getting cold and everyone's taking happiness pills, everyone's not supposed to drink because they're taking happiness pills but they drink anyway and sometimes the happiness pills and the strippers and the alcohol don't work and they walk the short walk out to one of our 14-soon-to-be-15 convenient bridges and drop over the railing and off the face of the earth and sometimes someday a corpse is found but most of the time it never is.
Or they use guns or pills or alcohol or razors and sometimes those work, too, in Utopia. You keep hearing that's all wrong, there's nothing wrong, the stories aren't right they're misinterpreting people are happy this is the best place on earth, we love it here it's so beautiful friendly environmental most habitable city on earth there's nothing wrong but I can feel the edge and I know THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG and I can't
get
out.
Wow. Just...wow.
Its always too cold or too hot here, the landlords never thought to put insulation into the building, its just brick and drywall between me and the outside, and I can't afford to turn the heat all the way up, and the air conditioner never works right anyway, so I pay more than I can afford to have it be just barely livable.
I'll get out of the building at least. I payed my rent for the last time yesterday. My roommate owes me enough favors that he'll let me stay for another few months. But he can't afford the bills either. eventually he'll have to find a roommate that *can* afford the heating bill. so I'll move into my parents basement, where there is insulation and I don't need so much heat.
At least until the bank raises my Parent's mortgage rates.
I live in College Town. Yes, that College Town, the one where everyone worships The Team, and Its Players, the one where all the buildings are ancient mausoleums of shining stone on the inside and halls of decaying offices and laboratories within, where the bells shine brightly always from the clock tower and all the students are HappyTM, at least by the writers of the New York Times. Yes, we /do/ have to keep a good face despite the economic hard times, have to keep the greek life lively, have to keep 80,000 fans rushing in every gameday, must continue to present that image of HappyTM People, while downstairs just 3 floors below where I'm sitting an old lab rusts to dust, an abandoned chalkboard and desks and papers lying under caked grime and cobwebs in the dim light and mildew. The space used to be a place of science, and now it is a place of rot.
So the street vendors sell their hats and shirts and booze and the ticket hawkers run around screaming and waving. The whole highway turns into a one way street those Saturdays, the pavement packed with people and cars and tailgate tents. And at the end, blessed quiet except for the occassional train, as 80,000 people leave again. The summer is even hotter and ever quieter. Suitcase town, they call it; ghost town is more like it. At the stroke of midnight on a street packed during the fall months, there is only the quiet rustle of leaves. Those nights, College Town is almost bearable.
No one lives here. Even the continued members of the community live in towns miles down the road. There is nothing here but college buildings, bars, restaurants, memoribilia shops, and apartment complexes, like a church that only fills on Sunday morning and is empty the rest of the week.
College Town is the south trying to be multicultural. And how they do try, the president speaking at events, talking diversity, pushing plurality. But you can't make the south cosmopolitan, no, you can only bury that bigotry in the shallow soil, where it festers and flows off into the groundwater. The churches hawk their goods much like the tailors, and the students listen to this more than the good intentioned professors. Who are they to argue with god? Racism is rolled under the rug, still there, subtly affecting the fabric as you step lightly, trying not to disturb some of the more offensive grime that passes as patriotism, here in College Town.
College Town is The Stadium, its the bar crawl and the screaming sorority girls, its the moldering basement beneath my feet. And the students give the decay only passing notice, the decay of education, the decay of intelligence, the decay of a modern 1880s throwback university. Those who do notice hope a beautiful white and orange wasp will burst out of the dying chrysalis, its colors already fading, but no hope, there is no ectoparasite to catch a ride on, just a slow slide out of touch with reality, the professor in his office working a 1995 IBM computer, trying to check his email while rows and rows of vials sit untouched on a nearby desk, messy, piled high with publications never published. He's trying to understand why his students don't like his old school way of teaching, why every year passes he's more tired yet he convinces himself hes happy, still in his office though retired for over a year. What other life does he have? The Professor will die in his office probably, ten years down the road, die in his sleep, a page open in a worn and weathered manuscript he's been working on for 20 years, a tattered corpse unfinished.
College Town is like Stonehenge, its original purpose for military training and agricultural learning forgotten. Like the pagans in their Beltane robes the fans rush to The Stadium, a cheap imitation of the original reasons.
I have to get out of here.
And it seems to me that universities used to be places of healthy dissent, and of a rounded education that served to make the person, not the career. But it's all horrible and wrong now, it's all an MBA mill and a furious fight for grant money, musn't piss off the government, no, no, there's no grant money down that road and it's publish or die, no scratch that, it's publish and die.
And somewhen, Sonny and Cher are singing and the beat goes on.
my country dreams will die this week, i don't know what to think of that, i have held on to the idea of going back but the reality is hand to mouth living, survival on a tourist economy that barely exists, the farmers sons and daughters, those that can, move to the city's and those that cant inherit a business or work for minimum wage or below, most everyone was high there or drinking, each day rolling past just like the one before it, but there is no going back now i want something now i need to make something of my self it doesn't matter if i don't know what that is or how to get it ... i am pretty sure its not what the television is telling me i should want or should be, but there is still no going back, being able to stop and fish with a beer in hand on my way home after killing myself for minimum wage isn't it either, i can make country living sound good the fresh air open space and all that, but i have been there and the romanticized version i hold on to in my head isn't there... and this week i sell off the property that kept those romanticized dreams alive ...
the newest pill is purple you say??
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 07, 2009, 08:57:22 PM
Okay. But not on Their networks. They own the ball AND the ballpark, Requia, but the price of admission to their ball clubs is cheap. Cheap as dirt, cheap as a smile, cheap as your soul.
But you're on to something, here. I have to think about this, but things are a little fuzzy right now. I'll get back to this later, when my head is a little less twisty.
Oh never on Their networks. Talking to the people who watch Their teevee isn't useful anyway, But there are people who aren't Their creatures, not really. The ones who want to rebel but can't figure out how because They own 'rebel' now. The people that are afraid of Them and Their teevee even without knowing They exist, because the part of the brain that says spiders and snakes are dangerous can't be completely killed by Their pills.
Quote from: fomenter on October 07, 2009, 09:42:23 PM
the newest pill is purple you say??
Yes, and it helps you remember that success is money, not actually DOING something or BEING happy, success is TAKING something, is TAKING that shot, is burying your opponent at work or in the marketplace, is killing that bastard and stringing his ass up on your office wall as a trophy, is hollow laughter in marble halls, is realizing that if there's a devil, he talks
just like this, only if there is a devil, he's obsolete, we can do that cheaper in Malaysia.
Yes. It's purple. It's your happiness, in a bottle.
Quote from: Requia ☣ on October 07, 2009, 09:43:22 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 07, 2009, 08:57:22 PM
Okay. But not on Their networks. They own the ball AND the ballpark, Requia, but the price of admission to their ball clubs is cheap. Cheap as dirt, cheap as a smile, cheap as your soul.
But you're on to something, here. I have to think about this, but things are a little fuzzy right now. I'll get back to this later, when my head is a little less twisty.
Oh never on Their networks. Talking to the people who watch Their teevee isn't useful anyway, But there are people who aren't Their creatures, not really. The ones who want to rebel but can't figure out how because They own 'rebel' now. The people that are afraid of Them and Their teevee even without knowing They exist, because the part of the brain that says spiders and snakes are dangerous can't be completely killed by Their pills.
Observe the humble cockroach. All your poisons can't kill it, sure you can squash one, but there's a million more. And that roach can't hurt you, right? It's just a roach. But there's a million, a billion, and they spread all sorts of fun diseases. Typhoid. Cholera. Knowledge. Wakefulness. RAGE. ANGER.
RETRIBUTION.
I live in a city forgotten, where streetlights lit the way in splendor unseen worldwide. Eventually those lights went out because they were fueled by oil from whales and we all know that's wrong because whales are beautiful and we were guilty about killing them more than we ever were about taking advantage of those evil men with the long beards and strange clothes. Once called the city of the future by foreign dignitaries we became a city dependent on its past for its future. But they were right. It's a grim city and that future that is now the present is grim.
In every direction is an old Victorian house with creaky boards and woodwork as grand as anything, the kind with narrow staircases and not very many windows. And on some of these those windows are boarded up and spraypainted with that furious unselfaware wailing of the disenfranchised. Then in others those narrow staircases lead to a heavy door at each floor bolted by the families inside who don't talk to the people living above or below them. Everywhere else is vinyl sided with a dingy city grime on it that settles itself even onto the new things. It's all very cheap though, for quality woodwork that only needs love that nobody can give it anymore. Maybe the governor will put a commuter rail stop here to the big city up north and maybe we can find work there and maybe they can come live for something less than the value of their kidneys.
My place is cheap, too, and my street is in the thick of the rundown but it's a nice street where you can forget about how the rest of the city looks. It's almost like the downtown area, with its cobblestones and its arts nights and its waterfront that perpetually smells like low tide. The shiny downtown where not enough people spend not enough money. But on my street everything's fine. The landlords live on site and there's a church three houses down from mine and I think I even spotted a BMW and a Prius parked here once. It's a still standing bastion of how good this city can be. I'll be sure to tell the old lady who lives downstairs that sleeps on her couch because her place is so big and she's all alone and she got robbed last week in the time it took me to get an oil change. I guess even if we look out for each other there are plenty others looking out for when we aren't able to look out.
All my friends and I went to college and we came back so excited to pick this city up and dust it off and let it breath. They're working at liquor stores or unemployed now and I work at the Sheriff's office where I dispatch our ambulances to our hospitals and I don't even hear of that many gunshot wounds. The rest of the talent left the city; they knew it doesn't want their talent. And one day I'll bring mine elsewhere. I'll get out of here, and I'll forget this city.
Most of the cockroaches are Their creatures now though. They figured out you can control people better if you never kill them. And They get all that Rage for free. The Chosen people are Their creatures, and as much as I hate The Chosen People for it I feel sorry too. Because one day Their other creatures will fill up with rage and hatred at all the wrong things, and Their other creatures will EAT the Chosen People alive for being different.
Their creatures will try to eat me for being different too, but I will hide, and throw up Their pills when nobody is looking. The Chosen People can't do that, there are too many of them, all the same.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 07, 2009, 10:16:33 PM
Quote from: Eater of Clowns on October 07, 2009, 09:59:08 PM
and I'll forget this city.
Do you really believe that?
No. But it's a forgotten city and that's not what we do to it that's what it does to us.
This city rests on the shards of shattered hopes. It was founded by broken men and women, fleeing genocide and ever since this is where the broken and weary have come. They hope to make a better life, here among the orchards and orange groves, where they could be safe. Here they hope to make it in the rice paddies and strawberry fields.
Alas, it is not to be.
This place was put together haphazardly, and wave upon wave of the broken and weary has put stress on the precarious balance of this city's life. People fled oppression, revolutions, genocide, and war and put down roots in the poisoned soil. They put down roots in earth made of ground glass. A low haze of fog and smog hangs heavy in the air, so thick with pesticides and exhaust you can almost taste it. Canals are choked with duckweed and trash, grocery carts and tires resting at the bottom, glimmering wetly in the sunlight.
Sometimes, when the light hits them just right, those broken hopes glitter again. They seem almost real, almost whole. But when you touch them, prick your finger on them, you are reminded once again that this is a failed city, a dying town. You see the shards in the cold light of day and the sound tinkle of falling glass echos.
People talk about leaving this town but most never do. They go to college at the local university and marry here. They buy their first house, out in the suburbs, where city blends with country. Where vinyards stand among the sprawl of walled in communities. Foxes dart through bushes and hawks wheel above the rooftops. Only to be shot at with pellet guns and chased by teenaged boys.
There is quite literally a right and a wrong side of the tracks. The right side of the tracks are filled with Starbucks and McMansions, where plasticized soccer moms sip lattes under green umbrellas and talk about who just bought a new Hummer (Oh Ashley, David and Marina just got one! Are you and Eric going to get one?). Where young couples walk tiny dogs on the city's tree-lined bike path in matching track suits and go to mega churches on Sunday.
The wrong side of the tracks looks like something out of the third world. In the slums are malnourished children and wandering dogs, lean-to additions on crumbling houses and hulks of junk cars line the streets. Here, gangs rule the streets and police won't go without back up. This is where drugs are made and shipped across the country. This is where the tent city is, where the homeless huddle together over trashcan hearths and beer bottles. Here is the last refuge of the lost.
This city never had the chance to break--it was built wrong on shifting soil watered by two tiny rivers of mud. It has suffered heart break after heart break and the glass never has a chance be swept away. It is a whirling vortex of poison and despair. And I can't escape the pull of the tide; I will be drowned by mud and shit and
I
can't
get
out.
Edited to decrease the suckage
I live in The WoodsTM. It's here, too. But different. It doesn't surround you here. It's more like sitting in the corner of the room where you can watch the door. 'Course, that also means you're up against the wall.
Everyone knows everyone here. That lady that died in a car crash was your wife's aunt and her daughter was dating the son of a friend of yours.
We drink a lot of beer here, too. There's not much else to do. We drink when it's nice outside because, "hell yeah! It's nice outside!" But we drink when it's cold out, too. It gets like planet Hoth here. Every year you say, "this is gonna be the year I get that engine block heater. I don't know if the old truck can take another winter without one." We have to drink then, so we don't feel the cold.
I like how quiet it is. Mostly turkeys and crows and coyotes reminding me to stay close to the house at night. I here more gunshots now than when I lived in The CityTM. But I don't mind it so much – because I know it's hunting rifles and shotguns.
But, I told you. It's here, too. They know how much you like it in The WoodsTM. They know it all to well. They know that you would do anything to stay. So when you don't get a raise, you don't complain. You know the Company is just doing what it has to do to get through these tough economic times. You start to skip breaks to show them how dedicated you are. And when you're laid off for a couple of weeks – you tell yourself that, in the long run, it's the right thing to do for the Company, because if this mill closes, you will lose everything. And when you're laid off again, you really try to get some things done around the house, but from all the layoffs, you're too broke and can't afford to put in that second bathroom. So you go to the bar and put another hole in your head instead. And when you're laid off again, you wonder, "are they figuring out they can run just as well without me there?"
That's when you realize. What you have isn't yours. It's theirs. And they will take it away whenever they want. Because they are the guards and you are still in prison.
Quote from: Requia ☣ on October 07, 2009, 09:59:48 PM
Most of the cockroaches are Their creatures now though.
Yeah, fuck, you're right.
Welcome to Circle City, the exact center of Nowhere. I mean that literally too. About 150 years ago they realized that they had a large state full of corn and trees and nothing else. They measured north-south, they measure east-west. When they found the center they planted a flag and said, "We build here!" The problem was that there was nothing here. No amazing landmark. Not even a major body of water. They built a monument in the very center to the only war where Americans thought to turn their guns on one another, hoping that it would act as anchor. But you can't even see the monument anymore since it is surrounded by giant bank buildings that have all changed their names three times in the last five years.
People did manage to flock here from afar. People from the ghettos of Chicago. People from the backwoods of Kentucky. People from other parts of the state hoping to grab a piece of the pie. What they didn't realize is that this place is just like all of those tourist traps out there. You see signs along the highway for hundreds of miles telling you how amazing this place is. Then when you get here you realize that it is Nowhere. It's not even a real city. It's an overgrown suburb with no urb in the middle. Ok, not entirely. There's the small downtown area that no one goes to anymore. There's the extremely shitty east side of the city that even the cops won't touch. Other than that it's nothing but urban sprawl. Every block has a strip mall, a gas station, and a church.
They wanted this place to be in the exact center and that is what they got. Everything is exactly average. We've got the company that invented Prozac and if you didn't know any better you would swear that they've been pumping it into the water supply for the last 30 years. People walk around like zombies, not knowing that they are in Nowhere. They brush off the fact that the inner city schools have a graduation rate under 50%. They don't think twice about the government taking kids away from their shitty parents and putting in almost as shitty foster homes where they are lucky if they can make it to 18 and have enough education to count money correctly. They ignore the rundown motels that dot the outside of the Circle, full of people who would otherwise be homeless. As long as they can watch one grown man throw a ball to another grown man the people don't care. All of the Important People escaped to the north long ago so they don't have to see what this place has become.
Welcome to Nowhere. Too bad you can never leave.
Welcome to the City of Same - Where everything is the same, always was and always will be.
The same hope, that today things are gonna be different, will you get you out of the same bed you always pass out in. In the mirror you see the same empty face you always carry around. You take the same tram every morning, see the same faces that you never talk to. See the same trees slowly wither from all the same poisons we blow into the same air we blew them into yesterday. You get off at the same station, doing the same things you do every same day. Reading the same newspaper with the same news, drinking your coffee out of the same mug you always do.
The staleness clings to the air and certain days you can actually taste it. Nothing ever changes here.
The same sky is always the same gray, it's always about to rain the same rain, you always just miss that same tram. And you go to the same home to watch the same mindless things to get you off the same thoughts you always have when the same realization finally popped up in the same head you always have:
That this isn't how the world should be.
That this isn't how you were meant to live.
That there must be a way out.
But then you just fall asleep again, in the same position you did the other same day.
And in the morning everything will be the same again.
As it always was, is and will be.
I live in the Swamp Where Deals Are Made.
I might write more when I can stand to finish this thread.
I just realized that so many swamps are central cities: open to sea and navigable rivers. Detail later, too.
You guys should post these, one every day, on the Verwirrung blog. The rest of us will pimp these on twitter and IM. See how much exposure that gets us. Maybe some of them will see that something is very wrong indeed.
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 08, 2009, 12:07:17 AM
You guys should post these, one every day, on the Verwirrung blog. The rest of us will pimp these on twitter and IM. See how much exposure that gets us. Maybe some of them will see that something is very wrong indeed.
This.
Except maybe my stuff about Them. Which would seem like a derail on the blog (hell it is a derail, but that works better in the moment than somebody reading it later).
I've found a place I really love.This city, its people, its vibe, the entire city, is brilliant. I think I could happily live here.
That's what I am feeling now, but it was also what I was feeling 20 months ago, in my old city, and what I once felt in the city I lived in prior to that.
I loved those cities once, but I now realise that it is all temporary. That one day I will wake up despising the people, hating the lack of culture and feeling ill whenever I walk the streets. Happiness is never permanent.
You move to a city, and it is wonderful, you explore all the nice places, the interesting locales, meet cool people. But eventually you will become a part of that city, no longer a tourist, and you realise what lies underneath. The poison, the anger, the frustration, the hatred of the city, and its citizens.
Ironically for me (in my last city), it was around the time I got beat up in a bar, that I got sick of it. The depressing environment drives people to drink, and then they release their frustrations on anyone nearby, fighting the citizens of the city, because they can't fight the city itself.
But now I have moved on to a bigger and more wonderful city. Though this time I fear that the city is too big and too wonderful. It is bigger than any city back home, and when I tire of it, there is little chance of me finding a bigger and better city than this.
And I know, eventually I'll have to stop running, stop breaking connections with people and places, and, somehow, find some kind of contentment. This world is only so big, a finite number of cities in which to lose myself, and eventually my daemons will corner me.
I am still and will always be in love with my city, and that is why the truth about it has the power to break my heart.
I lived in the "Renaissance City". A place that was once the breeding ground of degenerates, drug addicts, and the dregs of society until a slightly-greedy mayor came in, pocketed some money, but reinvested the rest into transforming this New England crossroads into a mini-metropolis brimming with art and culture reflecting the diversity of the people who lived there, yet the struggles of the lower classes are not hidden. And never will be as long as the wealthy and corrupt are in power. No matter how "democrat" they claim to be.
It's a battle ground of hyphenated cultural majorities versus hyphenated cultural minorities of both the legal and illegal variety. Italy controls one hill, Portugal: another, Armenia: yet another, and in the middle is everyone standing at or below sea level deciding what type of sausage to buy while drinking their Dunkin' Donut's finest and complaining about the weather, whatever it is, because it's something to complain about.
The rivers were poisoned 200 years ago, and currently boast the shells of fire pylons, ready to make their last sacrifice to the consumer this weekend in the name of breast cancer while I slave away in my little bistro, trying to just get enough money to pay bills at the expense of those drawn to the spectacle and an excuse to wine and dine their significant other. They will complain that we don't have a view of the river, and if they knew, they wouldn't have reserved a table. They will complain that a glass of wine is too expensive, though none of our selection is above $10. And they will complain that they think we added more money to the check than we really did, because they can't read a receipt properly, and then they will figure out that soda isn't free refills and stiff me, even though they drank a bottle of wine and devoured $20 entrees. This is a typical inhabitant.
I live in the Bucket now. Clinging to the freedom of the Commonwealth across the train tracks for lesser sales tax, job opportunities, and stores open past 6pm on a Sunday.
I have to get out of here.
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 08, 2009, 12:07:17 AM
You guys should post these, one every day, on the Verwirrung blog. The rest of us will pimp these on twitter and IM. See how much exposure that gets us. Maybe some of them will see that something is very wrong indeed.
We're doing something different.
Details later, when I have something a little more firm from the interested party.
Horrible Truth Time: Read all these articles. We all live in the same city. The City. There is only one, so you can't get out.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 03:42:22 AM
Horrible Truth Time: Read all these articles. We all live in the same city. The City. There is only one, so you can't get out.
Time to burn it down?
Quote from: BabylonHoruv on October 08, 2009, 04:10:20 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 03:42:22 AM
Horrible Truth Time: Read all these articles. We all live in the same city. The City. There is only one, so you can't get out.
Time to burn it down?
And then you have a burned down city, and winter is coming.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 03:42:22 AM
Horrible Truth Time: Read all these articles. We all live in the same city. The City. There is only one, so you can't get out.
:horrormirth:
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 04:17:29 AM
Quote from: BabylonHoruv on October 08, 2009, 04:10:20 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 03:42:22 AM
Horrible Truth Time: Read all these articles. We all live in the same city. The City. There is only one, so you can't get out.
Time to burn it down?
And then you have a burned down city, and winter is coming.
Log cabin of frozen corpses. No mortgage.
I live in a city, it's called Beautiful Santa Barbara. It's so beautiful that you could shit yourself. I mean, look: there are the mountains, and their is the ocean, and everyday is warm and sunny and delicious. And the people are beautiful. The people who drink the wine, who run the galleries, who sponsor the community. And those poor people? Ho-ho, them. Why, they just add a homey touch of authenticity! They have their little paleta carts, and they wash the dishes, and they clean your luxurious Mediterranean villa next to Oprah's. But don't bother talking to them, they don't speak a word of English, and they're dirty and poor and lazy and will steal your stuff.
And who are those people you ask? The man with the soup in his beard and the greasy windbreaker and is muttering incoherently? He's on vacation. You see, the beach is so beautiful he decided to stay their and even make a tent out of plastic bags, because he's living green. And that lady with the shopping cart? Or that person digging through the trash? Oh, let's not talk about them anymore. You see, those people didn't appreciate the art and the wine.
But please come visit. They're so many things to do in Beautiful Santa Barbara.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 03:42:22 AM
Horrible Truth Time: Read all these articles. We all live in the same city. The City. There is only one, so you can't get out.
So why don't I have better neighbors?
I've lived in three cities.
The first was something that was a happening place 100 years ago, when we still made our own cloth, and water was cheaper to ship over than asphalt. I grew up there, amidst repurposed industry and 3 floor tenements. I accepted the urban decay, stagnant business areas. I accepted the entitled grasping for welfare or advantage, and learned the cynical stare you give encroaching poverty. It was my home, and I loved it. I left there for college, and came back. Even when my high school friends had gradually broken away, born of drama and strife stewed in the few entertaining places, I stayed a year longer. I watched and helped keep the block, and the block watched me in exchange. Preachers, drug dealers, and all, we were part of it, and watched out for our own. I loved the city, but found no place in the few enclaves of culture, art or business around which the city tried to reinvent, so I left.
The second city was the city I worked in for years. A metropolis, full of suits and students, culture and attitude. It was the kind of place bands sing about, as if even the "bad" parts were some sort of down - home Shangri - La (no place there was REALLY bad, they exported it all). Living there would have been good. I could have found a few local groups to bum around with, intelligent women to court, and would never have wanted for a well kept avenue to walk or novel venue to drink in. It would have been a trap. I'd have settled into it, and never wanted to leave. I wander, as much as time allows, and it's just NOT time off or away for me unless I'm throwing the kit bag in my ancient viking long car and taking off for something DIFFERENT. That city does not easily give up it's dwellers. It will either woo you back with exciting happenings, or rope you forcibly with horrible traffic. I'd have loved that city, but I'd never be able to get away. So I left.
City number 3 is my current place. It has people I know and things to keep me occupied. It's half run down, half coming back, half coming down again. You can find intelligence here, but there's less pretention. Cars still get broken into, fire engines still HOWL past my window nightly, and Tuesday is when the dump truck wakes me up at 6 AM. The Indian joint next door reeks, and the "Bros" at the club across the street hoot and holler all night. It's dumping ground for the USA's new surplus of Afgani heroin. Everything is there, like my other cities, and damn if I don't love it too. Depending how housing goes, I may leave, or I may not.
Fire, power tools, swordplay, and wood aren't as well accepted by city dwellers. I don't just want to KNOW things anymore, I need the space and buffer from other humans to DO them. Either they'll kill or evict me, I'll scare away them, or the tension will eat up all parties. I've got my eyes on a few places above the flood plain. We'll see though.
:mittens:
TO ALL!! This is great work!!!
I live in a city that is rich with multi cultural heritage. It is an old city, built by people who dreamed of making something better. There are things to do, places to go and stuff to see everywhere here. We have 3 professional sports teams to agonize over the wins and losses of. There is a public transportation system in place that rivals even the largest of cities in ease of use and availability. There is something free to do almost every weekend.
You have all the ups and downs of a large city, yet it is so rigidly divided that each area is a city within a city. Neighborhoods locked down so tight that kids can't leave their block for fear of being jumped. City street corners so explosive that schools have the busses pick the kids up at their front door. They have cameras on the busses so they know who to suspend or prosecute when another kid gets beaten. Someone is killed or beaten here every day. People are getting shot in highway drive bys that they always put off to a grudge or something. Our youth is killing each other, picking each other off a person at a time. Race has become an issue here again along the proportions of the 60's. There are neighborhoods within walking distance of my house that I drive out of my way to avoid. My children have a beautiful park 4 blocks away where they can go play. It's the walk there that would kill them.
Our schools are not safe, our streets are not safe, and with the new fad of home invasions, our homes are not safe. Our churches aren't safe; we had a killing during a service just a few months ago. The stores, shopping centers and malls are relatively safe; it's the getting to them that will get you killed.
Our schools are no longer accredited; our city is so in debt that some schools only have tissue and soap in one bathroom per floor. The teachers are over worked and subjected to threats and hostility every day. We have some of the lowest test scores in the country. Our kids are graduating with basically an elementary education if that. Children are encouraged to quit school and get their GED or a job. More and more children leave the public education system to enter the charter or private sector, just to get the basic education that we have come to expect our public school system to provide.
Is there a cure? Is there a vaccine for the virus that has spread across our country one city at a time?
I hate this city with a passion that burns through me, yet I love this city and want to see it thrive. But, if to just survive is the only option, then maybe death for the city is the answer....
Stonehaven. It's a little town with little to recommend it. The guy who invented the pneumatic tyre was born here (yeah, that guy). They dropped a Mars Bar into a deep fat frier at one of the many local chip shops and in an instant summed up Scotland's health and cuisine. That was in the old town, where there is still the old toll house, the old town hall, the old market. My favourite pub is there, and if I step outside to smoke a cigarette, by the time it is finished I can have walked past six churches, all of them Christian, but only one of them right. Right?
The old town is home to those unfortunate "people" who could trace their ancestry back to when there was still an occupant in the ruined castle overlooking the harbour. All of them could trace their ancestry back to one fisherman, likely, and I don't (even can't) imagine that the gene pool has become any more diverse in that time. The old town is home to people who are still outraged at certain ...events that took place at all but one of the churches over a period of several months a year and a bit ago. [The church that escaped was an oversight on my part, I only went for the churches that actually had their own building. I didn't realise the Baptists met every Sunday in the gymnasium of the local secondary school]
The new town... Ah, the new town. The preserve of Jaguars, flashy BMW's and ostentatious Mercs. The commuters and permanent tourists from England. Aberdeen, the "Oil Capital of Europe", is a short drive up the coast. Close enough that the light pollution is comfortably visible on the horizon, far enough that these Very Important men and women need not fear being stabbed in the neck for a cigarette by some desperate, disturbed and homeless junkie. There are hills with sheep on them, a "quaint" harbour. No one ever gets stabbed (at least not by junkies, anyway). The natives are polite, deferential eve. The Very Important people are too stupid to realise the natives are too stupid to be anything else.
A little old town kid on a bike was mowed down by one of these Very Important people, in their Very Nice cars recently. Everyone blamed the parent of the kid. They put a sign up, to tell people to drive slower, and life went on.
And on New Years Eve, when the Ye Olde Traditional brigade swing their Fire Balls around there head as they walk a circuit from the harbour through the old town and back to the harbour again, before they throw the Fire Balls into the harbour, I want to grab one and burn this place to the god damn ground. I want to leave no trace except a scorch mark on the ground, the ruined castle and the (apparently intentionally) unfinished war memorial.
I may leave this place, and go on to other, more gruesome parts of the world. I could run as far as I can, and still never be rid of this stain.
This city, this city by the sea is ancient. There have been inhabitants on the land the city now covers since the Stone Age. We have Tudor Houses, Medieval walls, and the worlds oldest surviving lawn bowling green.
I have lived here my entire life. The sea is in my consciousness, I sicken and pine for it inland. We are a port town, a Cruise Liner town. A Uni Town. The student population is about 20% It feels like this town is just a place connecting places, The Mayflower and the Titanic left here, The Titanic sank. I have worked on this city's docks, I have worked in its shops, bars, kitchens and offices. I always wanted to leave. Other people come through here on their way to somewhere else, I stay, i watch. I die a little. Here are my dreams and my nightmares, pain, learning, memory, Tidal. i am like a rock here, being eroded into pebbles.
We have some of the cleanest CO2 emissions in the country, 4 free art galleries, Museums, We are one of the greenest city centres, in terms of park space, and have the only geothermal power station in the UK heating our nice shiny new shopping centre.
This city, however, is the third most dangerous in the UK. This city has honed my instincts, I can shift from nice polite possibly middle class to a rough street level in seconds. I know the points to kick in order to escape being cornered and outnumbered. Dont leave any shit in your car, for fuck sake, some crackhead will steal your stuff and piss in it. I know its streets like the lines and blemishes on my hands and my face.
I narrowly avoided a gang of kids weilding knives and screwdrivers taking a dislike to me when one of them realised i used to help an older sibling of theirs score weed. When dressed up, for years i have used chopsticks in my hair, for offensive reasons. This city is paranoid, divided. Registered unemployment has gone up 100% since 2007. Student population has a massive effect on the jobs market, so in the summer, we are a ghost town. I've befreinded little oiks, all feeling abandoned by their city, tear around and fuck it up, get tagged, go on community service, can't or can't be arsed to get jobs, so end up in the darkest parts of Saint Marys, smoking crack around weirdos in old terraced houses in the red light district.
they have no role models, no schemes, no fathers, no hope, just a want. For drugs, trainers, booze, "that ipod you bumped from that matey," dealing, stealing, shouting at the smackheads who come up to "their park". It seems the ones trapped here, born here, get sucked into the sea of drugs and violence and the paranoia.
This city has taught me how to be invisible when I need to be, to look bigger when i need to be, My painted leather jacket I have had since i was 14 is like armour. I have learned when drunk and lost, never look drunk, or lost. This city is my training ground, Industry is dead, and on the Itchen bridge across town, your bus can be delayed and the main route across the city jammed if someone decides to jump. I have heard of more "bridge closures" of this type since the recession hit. There are so many new buildings and luxury apartments, but a six year waiting list to get a one bedroom flat with the local authority, all the manufacturing and tobacco plants are gone, no more shipyards, the places that my grandmother helped build spitfires are gone.
if the trade by sea dies, this city dies, I for one am going to take the road i should have taken at 18. In the next 2 years I am intending to be on a path to University. Just to get the hell out and stop being so bored.
If I dont get out soon... this city will swallow me alive. I shall drown here, if i cant escape.
for what it's worth, i was thinking about this thread this morning whilst having my morning smoke and i realized that the thing i don't like about all the hustle and bustle is all the hustlers and bustlers.
169% agree with you there, rong
You know what the best thing about this thread was? The OP wasn't supposed to be about the city I live in, but the enormous stresses on those around me as a function of unemployment and the worries thereof.
But I really, really liked the direction this took.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 03:41:38 AM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 08, 2009, 12:07:17 AM
You guys should post these, one every day, on the Verwirrung blog. The rest of us will pimp these on twitter and IM. See how much exposure that gets us. Maybe some of them will see that something is very wrong indeed.
We're doing something different.
Details later, when I have something a little more firm from the interested party.
Cool. You could always do the blog thing afterwards, to promote the result of the project (which I assume will be a PDF of some sorts?). Although posting one per day would be a bit odd, if the full edition is already floating about the internet.
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 08, 2009, 07:21:56 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 03:41:38 AM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 08, 2009, 12:07:17 AM
You guys should post these, one every day, on the Verwirrung blog. The rest of us will pimp these on twitter and IM. See how much exposure that gets us. Maybe some of them will see that something is very wrong indeed.
We're doing something different.
Details later, when I have something a little more firm from the interested party.
Cool. You could always do the blog thing afterwards, to promote the result of the project (which I assume will be a PDF of some sorts?). Although posting one per day would be a bit odd, if the full edition is already floating about the internet.
No, it won't be a PDF. It may very well be a series of print comics. I am talking with a publisher next week. If they are interested, I will be contacting the relevant authors with release forms and compensation arrangements for their approval.
Mind you, this is only an interest demonstrated by one individual in the biz, not a firm proposal of any kind.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 07:28:26 PM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 08, 2009, 07:21:56 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 03:41:38 AM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 08, 2009, 12:07:17 AM
You guys should post these, one every day, on the Verwirrung blog. The rest of us will pimp these on twitter and IM. See how much exposure that gets us. Maybe some of them will see that something is very wrong indeed.
We're doing something different.
Details later, when I have something a little more firm from the interested party.
Cool. You could always do the blog thing afterwards, to promote the result of the project (which I assume will be a PDF of some sorts?). Although posting one per day would be a bit odd, if the full edition is already floating about the internet.
No, it won't be a PDF. It may very well be a series of print comics. I am talking with a publisher next week. If they are interested, I will be contacting the relevant authors with release forms and compensation arrangements for their approval.
Mind you, this is only an interest demonstrated by one individual in the biz, not a firm proposal of any kind.
Holy shit, that is awesome, Roger! I hope it doesn't fall through at the last minute as these things tend to do.
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on October 08, 2009, 07:56:56 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 07:28:26 PM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 08, 2009, 07:21:56 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 03:41:38 AM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 08, 2009, 12:07:17 AM
You guys should post these, one every day, on the Verwirrung blog. The rest of us will pimp these on twitter and IM. See how much exposure that gets us. Maybe some of them will see that something is very wrong indeed.
We're doing something different.
Details later, when I have something a little more firm from the interested party.
Cool. You could always do the blog thing afterwards, to promote the result of the project (which I assume will be a PDF of some sorts?). Although posting one per day would be a bit odd, if the full edition is already floating about the internet.
No, it won't be a PDF. It may very well be a series of print comics. I am talking with a publisher next week. If they are interested, I will be contacting the relevant authors with release forms and compensation arrangements for their approval.
Mind you, this is only an interest demonstrated by one individual in the biz, not a firm proposal of any kind.
Holy shit, that is awesome, Roger! I hope it doesn't fall through at the last minute as these things tend to do.
Um, I have a serious answer for that, but I gotta ask if that was a shot.
i'll understand if you have this more fully lined up, but if you're interested in an artist, i know a guy in detroit that is a)a sweet artist and b)might be interested in illustrating said comics.
i think the artist being from detroit would be appropriate.
i also hope this ties into the "mask" thread.
he lives very "off the grid" i will try to see if i can dig any info up on him online and PM it to you if i find anything.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 08, 2009, 07:20:31 PM
You know what the best thing about this thread was? The OP wasn't supposed to be about the city I live in, but the enormous stresses on those around me as a function of unemployment and the worries thereof.
But I really, really liked the direction this took.
THIS!
Quote from: rong on October 08, 2009, 08:35:33 PM
i'll understand if you have this more fully lined up, but if you're interested in an artist, i know a guy in detroit that is a)a sweet artist and b)might be interested in illustrating said comics.
i think the artist being from detroit would be appropriate.
i also hope this ties into the "mask" thread.
he lives very "off the grid" i will try to see if i can dig any info up on him online and PM it to you if i find anything.
shit - i think he might be in jail.
Quote from: rong on October 08, 2009, 08:35:33 PM
i'll understand if you have this more fully lined up, but if you're interested in an artist, i know a guy in detroit that is a)a sweet artist and b)might be interested in illustrating said comics.
i think the artist being from detroit would be appropriate.
i also hope this ties into the "mask" thread.
he lives very "off the grid" i will try to see if i can dig any info up on him online and PM it to you if i find anything.
I've got two people doing the art right now, but it might be a possibility in the future.
Also, this sort of thing is by nature flaky as hell. Editors are all insane, and go from furiously excited about something to puking on your shoes and siccing the dogs on you at the drop of a hat, and I imagine comic publishers are the same way. I guess I'm about to find out.
I'd give this a 5% chance of going anywhere (with what we have right now), so don't anybody get all excited yet. I won't even have a "maybe" for at least 2 weeks, probably a lot longer.
Quote from: rong on October 08, 2009, 08:42:45 PM
Quote from: rong on October 08, 2009, 08:35:33 PM
i'll understand if you have this more fully lined up, but if you're interested in an artist, i know a guy in detroit that is a)a sweet artist and b)might be interested in illustrating said comics.
i think the artist being from detroit would be appropriate.
i also hope this ties into the "mask" thread.
he lives very "off the grid" i will try to see if i can dig any info up on him online and PM it to you if i find anything.
shit - i think he might be in jail.
That's where the best artists go when they're hungry.
It isn't a city. It's just another small town with a fast-fading future leaning drunkenly on the architecture of broken promises. It could be anywhere, and bits and pieces of it may resemble everywhere, but this particular pile of rubble routed along the any/everywhere road to even-less-than-before is part of what some have cleverly called "the rust belt"
Idle coal cars sit idled on a track that runs from the shuttered iron mines to an empty harbor.
Back in the day, shipping was king and coal and iron and grain and all manner of commerce moved the mighty squealing iron wheels along those tracks and the town grew, pretentious with potential prosperity, and every member of the city council assured the work-a-day wage slaves that this was a Place With Fine Prospects.
So schools were built and houses were contracted and streets were paved wide for the impending boom of more building and business and banks and bars and no one thought to count on coal falling out of favor, but when it did the shuttered mines shipped their shattered work-force to other occupations. We will always need shipfitters for the grain and ore and goods bearing even bigger and better business through the harbor, and every member of the new city council assured the work-a-day wage slaves that this was a Place With Fine Prospects.
And Iron ore became king, and the rust-red dust from the ore pellets colored the nice white siding on the little clapboard houses ringing the Place With Fine Prospects and progress came with malls and mini-marts and movie-plex monstrosities housed in corrugated tin horrors, so there was nothing for it but to make way and make more room for the needs of progress. So what if the price of progress was the wrecking ball beating a path to a 'better future' through the fine filigree of the art-deco architecture that once proudly proclaimed itself the "Palace Theater"? Tear the damn thing down. We need a warehouse there. Never-mind the wrought iron tower archway on Tower Avenue, (looking for all the world like someone named Eiffel had a hand in the design), tear the damn thing down, we need a parking lot there. And in all the boom and bustle of feeding the expanding needs of a Place With Fine Prospects no one thought to count on king iron finding himself suddenly subject to market forces that made it much cheaper to smelt in some any/everywhere other than this one right here. Cheaper places that didn't pay much mind to environmental impacts or shale polluted run-off. Bottom-dollar bargainers that understood 60 cents an hour was a damn good wage and don't let that union shill tell you any different. And the shuttered pellet-presses shipped their shattered workers out to the 'service industry' because we can all make a fine living selling each other hamburgers.
So the piles of pellets sat in the harbor where no ships came to call and the grain drained out of the towering silos bound on Mayfair trucks for destinations more economically expedient by way of Interstate Highway leaving the rails to rot. And with nothing made, mined, or harvested here the harbor could not remain a hub of commerce and the trash blew in the cold wind to gather around the feet of the unmoving conveyor belt on the coal-stacker track while the concrete silos shifted and crumbled under the weight of their own obsolescence and the clenched jaw of the steel crane was left to choke on the Ozymandias boast.
Meanwhile, every member of the new city council assured the work-a-day wage slaves that this was a Place With Fine Prospects. All you need to do is re-tool and re-train and make way for a better brighter future with Wal-mart and Jiffy-Lube and a HD TV you bought with the credit you keep from serving each other hamburgers or setting your sights on another tele-marketing target. And the Pawn shops and Payday Loan piranhas nibble around the edges of your comfort zone, but not enough to actually interfere with the laying of the 29-and-1/4-percent-interest-compounded-weekly golden egg so you can still feed your illusions on just enough left-over for a 50 cent tap or two down to the Moose Club or the Knights of Columbus where there will be a Friday Night Band playing bad covers of Big Eighties hits and the guy in the corner is still selling something to help you forget you can't get laid and you can't get paid, and you can't get far enough ahead to finally fumble your way out of the Place With Fine Prospects
*edited for the hell of it
ATTN: PD.com
This is all fucking awesome. But I have never lived in The City, and now you've all got me pissing myself with fear that I might one day have to move there for the sake of a job.
Quote from: Cainad on October 09, 2009, 04:17:10 AM
ATTN: PD.com
This is all fucking awesome. But I have never lived in The City, and now you've all got me pissing myself with fear that I might one day have to move there for the sake of a job.
It's nice here.
Quote from: Cainad on October 09, 2009, 04:17:10 AM
ATTN: PD.com
This is all fucking awesome. But I have never lived in The City, and now you've all got me pissing myself with fear that I might one day have to move there for the sake of a job.
You've lived on The Big Island. That's close enough, right?
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on October 09, 2009, 04:56:28 AM
Quote from: Cainad on October 09, 2009, 04:17:10 AM
ATTN: PD.com
This is all fucking awesome. But I have never lived in The City, and now you've all got me pissing myself with fear that I might one day have to move there for the sake of a job.
You've lived on The Big Island. That's close enough, right?
I lived on O'ahu, the island with Honolulu. Honolulu is definitely The City, with all of the diseases and ailments and twisted sick ability to suck people in and never let them go, but I would never presume to know much about it. I lived in my house on the military reserve, went to my school that drivers-by would mistake for a prison complex, and never touched the Filth.
it used to be that if you weren't smart enough to work in the city, you could always get a job farming. Nowadays, if you aren't smart enough to farm, you can always get a job in the city.
Wow, Singer. :mittens:
And :mittens: everyone else, too.
First galley:
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/TownIsBroken.jpg)
Nivek is working this one.
:mittens: and super :mittens:
WOW!!!!
More is on the way.
Oh, and thanks for acknowledging my fucking existence. Nobody else will today, apparently.
Holy shit!
:mittens:
Awesome
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 12, 2009, 12:40:10 AM
More is on the way.
Oh, and thanks for acknowledging my fucking existence. Nobody else will today, apparently.
the silent treatment is no way to treat a angry rain god..
Quote from: fomenter on October 12, 2009, 12:47:43 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 12, 2009, 12:40:10 AM
More is on the way.
Oh, and thanks for acknowledging my fucking existence. Nobody else will today, apparently.
the silent treatment is no way to treat a angry rain god..
I think I'm gonna go shooting tonight. Too fucking angry for anything else, zero chance of sleep.
That was completely awesome roger. :) Nivek is doing a great job.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 12, 2009, 12:34:29 AM
First galley:
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/TownIsBroken.jpg)
Nivek is working this one.
:fap: :fap: :fap:
Can't wait to see the rest.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 12, 2009, 12:50:03 AM
Quote from: fomenter on October 12, 2009, 12:47:43 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 12, 2009, 12:40:10 AM
More is on the way.
Oh, and thanks for acknowledging my fucking existence. Nobody else will today, apparently.
the silent treatment is no way to treat a angry rain god..
I think I'm gonna go shooting tonight. Too fucking angry for anything else, zero chance of sleep.
lucky you on the shooting... not being able to drive a couple minutes and do some shooting is one of the city's biggest downsides here in CA
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 12, 2009, 12:34:29 AM
First galley:
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/TownIsBroken.jpg)
Nivek is working this one.
HOLY FUCKING SHIT :mittens:
Quote from: Nigel on October 12, 2009, 12:58:37 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 12, 2009, 12:34:29 AM
First galley:
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/TownIsBroken.jpg)
Nivek is working this one.
HOLY FUCKING SHIT :mittens:
She's rolling straight into yours when she finishes the first post.
Oh my god, awesome! I can't wait to see what she does. That is holy fucking shit good.
that's just fucking awesome...
can't wait to see the rest
awesome stuff. and sorry for not acknowledging your existence yesterday, Roger ...
:mittens: This thread rocks. Goddamn.
My city is Amurrica's Finest. That's what they call it, anyway. It's a mish-mash of culture-clashing, back-broken, transplanted people. I know few who were born and raised here all their lives. You're either an immigrant who came here seeking Fortune's Fool, or you're the military's bitch working for the Fool on the Hill.
But we have the ocean, the great vast of sea that stretches out and crumbles slowly into oblivion year after year. And we have the biochem industry, that builds a machine so vast and powerful that if you feel fluish, cancerish or depressed, they've got a Rx that will fix you right up, yessirree. The knee to the groin is the fact that all those fine Rx's are really just little leashes that have been lashed to the necks of the populace, so they can forget what it's like to roam free.
Because this is an orderly town, with orderly people, and if you so much as move without thinking first, you will be dragged down, down, down to the border. To the concrete warehouse where they sell what's left of that soul you think you own but is really only rented to you at an exorbitant price. The concrete box bakes in the sun, and the souls within have left their marks in blood on the high-wired fences, the rock hills that loom behind, and the scrubby landscape that offers little hope of what lies South of the Border.
The stench of that place, just a bit further down the road, reveals the real price of humanity: stewing filth in a river of life, a testament to the plight of those who live just beyond the concrete box. A direct example of what happens to the denizens of a town that leaves its wounded bleeding face down in the muck and mire that is their life--barren ditches and ankle deep puddles. Tenament cities and shithole towns, but smiles on faces when you hand them $DN for a cold, delicious yet limey beer and a steaming, fresh, salsa'd taco.
Cilantro: it comes cheap.
And there's nothing much that is still cheap in this town.
WOW Roger, that is amazing!! I can't too see what comes next!!!
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 12, 2009, 01:08:08 PM
awesome stuff. and sorry for not acknowledging your existence yesterday, Roger ...
S'ok. And I apologize for my jabbering rage. It's no excuse, but I had spend three hours trying to get my Zune software to work after Microsoft "improved" it.
Jenne...NICE.
Thanks--sorry I haven't been around lately. I was actually ill in bed for most of last week. :( Fucking viruses! *shakes angry fist*
Quote from: Jenne on October 12, 2009, 03:27:47 PM
Thanks--sorry I haven't been around lately. I was actually ill in bed for most of last week. :( Fucking viruses! *shakes angry fist*
Yeah, my son has the pig thing, and so does half of my crew.
I was gonna go get my vaccs this week...but now I'm thinking I wanna be healthier before I shove that live virus up my nose.
Quote from: Jenne on October 12, 2009, 04:36:02 PM
I was gonna go get my vaccs this week...but now I'm thinking I wanna be healthier before I shove that live virus up my nose.
They have refused to give it to me twice now because I still have a cough from the last bout of cold/flu/crap I had. UGH!
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/comic20002.jpg)
Second page. will ink and post last page of TGRR's rant and Nigel's as well.
"Grief" in the fourth panel [criticising]
These have all been awesome shit so far.
Quote from: Payne on October 13, 2009, 12:07:29 AM
"Grief" in the fourth panel [criticising]
These have all been awesome shit so far.
lol thought that didn't look quite right. can be a quick fix with some white out. Thanks :lol:
Fucking amazing.
EPIC :fap:
This is fucking AMAZING.
"Megalomaniac" in the third panel btw.
Quote from: Nigel on October 13, 2009, 12:34:26 AM
This is fucking AMAZING.
"Megalomaniac" in the third panel btw.
seems like i need some damned spelling lessons these days lol. thanks!
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 13, 2009, 01:16:05 AM
Quote from: Nigel on October 13, 2009, 12:34:26 AM
This is fucking AMAZING.
"Megalomaniac" in the third panel btw.
seems like i need some damned spelling lessons these days lol. thanks!
Naw, it's just easy to miss letters when you're handwriting things.
Quote from: Nigel on October 13, 2009, 01:21:00 AM
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 13, 2009, 01:16:05 AM
Quote from: Nigel on October 13, 2009, 12:34:26 AM
This is fucking AMAZING.
"Megalomaniac" in the third panel btw.
seems like i need some damned spelling lessons these days lol. thanks!
Naw, it's just easy to miss letters when you're handwriting things.
I think the next one's i do, I'll have someone proof read before inking.
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/comic30001.jpg)
Broken Town page 3.
BOO YAH
DAMN that is just awesome!
Tucson can only be drawn by someone that lives here.
The guy with the glasses, awesome character.
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 13, 2009, 05:46:38 PM
The guy with the glasses, awesome character.
I figured every time I represent TGRR in these comics I'm going to use this character. He seems to fit the profile :D
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 13, 2009, 07:15:12 PM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 13, 2009, 05:46:38 PM
The guy with the glasses, awesome character.
I figured every time I represent TGRR in these comics I'm going to use this character. He seems to fit the profile :D
Yep. Because I'm skinny, have a full head of hair, and wear glasses. :lulz:
Seriously, the nasty smile seems about right, and that's my most important feature.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 13, 2009, 07:16:28 PM
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 13, 2009, 07:15:12 PM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 13, 2009, 05:46:38 PM
The guy with the glasses, awesome character.
I figured every time I represent TGRR in these comics I'm going to use this character. He seems to fit the profile :D
Yep. Because I'm skinny, have a full head of hair, and wear glasses. :lulz:
Seriously, the nasty smile seems about right, and that's my most important feature.
:lulz: The attitude this character gives off is that of yours. He's just disillusioned enough to be perfect for the part.
Absolutely incredible. :mittens:
Panel 2 - its not it's
:mittens:
PERFECT!
(except those little spelling mistakes, but I didn't notice them)
Quote from: Rumckle on October 13, 2009, 08:38:20 PM
:mittens:
PERFECT!
(except those little spelling mistakes, but I didn't notice them)
Lol i really need to proof read before inking :lulz:
I love the TGRR character. Looks nothing like him, but is perfect for the part.
Quote from: Nigel on October 13, 2009, 09:49:49 PM
I love the TGRR character. Looks nothing like him, but is perfect for the part.
Like I said, the nasty smile is all that's needed.
I was gonna say something about Surrogate TGRR, but it's already been said. Fucking brilliant!
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/NigelComic10001.jpg)
Nigel's rant. Broken Town page 4. will post more later. For now I am taking a break.
Oh my god. The city under glass captures the tone of that all so well.
HOLY FUCK
:mittens:
I wept a little. The cigarette, the bubble... perfect! OMG.
Wow. :mittens:
:mittens: NiveK!
Comic for Nigel is completed, just needs to be inked up and then it shall be posted. :D
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 14, 2009, 01:21:32 AM
Comic for Nigel is completed, just needs to be inked up and then it shall be posted. :D
Both, or just the first one? I think both of hers should be run consecutively.
<gibbering with anticipation>
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 14, 2009, 01:38:49 AM
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 14, 2009, 01:21:32 AM
Comic for Nigel is completed, just needs to be inked up and then it shall be posted. :D
Both, or just the first one? I think both of hers should be run consecutively.
I think i could go ahead and do that for this one then. I'll just ink up what i've got then post them as i see fit.
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 14, 2009, 02:41:11 AM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 14, 2009, 01:38:49 AM
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 14, 2009, 01:21:32 AM
Comic for Nigel is completed, just needs to be inked up and then it shall be posted. :D
Both, or just the first one? I think both of hers should be run consecutively.
I think i could go ahead and do that for this one then. I'll just ink up what i've got then post them as i see fit.
Woot.
Awesome
:fap:
The smoke trail spelling out "everything is okay" has become my new definition of something I don't even have a word for yet.
:mittens:
aaaaaah PD is exploding with greatness!
this kept me up untill 6:30 in the morning!
I am fapping my ass off at the guy who portrays me. Perfect, perfect, cynical apathy, with a touch of "how did I get here?" confusion.
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/NigelComic20001.jpg)
Next page of Broken Town.. losing count and too lazy/tired to look. Enjoy. :lulz:
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/NigelComic30001.jpg)
Not inked yet but will be soon. Here it is. I'm out for tonight.
:mittens: Sweet Jesus! They just keep getting better.
:mittens:
Can't look away from "Portland is Great. We Love It Here." ... Grin.... Hypnotizing.
OMG, chills... and you NAILED that upscale hippie, right down to her earlobe plugs. I think I used to live across the street from her on Alberta.
I love the guy who portrays me, too.
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/NigelComic3ink0002.jpg)
Inked
Quote from: Nigel on October 14, 2009, 05:20:21 PM
OMG, chills... and you NAILED that upscale hippie, right down to her earlobe plugs. I think I used to live across the street from her on Alberta.
I love the guy who portrays me, too.
Nivek is, officially, the cat's ass.
^ That. Your shit is really, really good.
I don't really wanna pollute this thread with another echo of how awesome this is, but you deserve it, this is awesome :)
HOT ASS.
This thread is so fucking amazing. :mittens: nivek
I'm glad that I'm getting good reviews on everything so far. The next page will be done by tomorrow, all inked and such.
Im really looking forward to seeing the whole series.
Awesome work, nivek.
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 16, 2009, 07:09:37 AM
I'm glad that I'm getting good reviews on everything so far. The next page will be done by tomorrow, all inked and such.
Ooooh I can't wait!
Nivek: when you get tom ine (eventually) please change this line:
QuoteThere are no jobs here anymore, and if you're really lucky you can get a house for half a million dollars.
to
QuoteOut to the suburbs where there are still jobs, and you can get a house for less than half a million dollars.
Quote from: Requia ☣ on October 16, 2009, 09:56:42 PM
Nivek: when you get tom ine (eventually) please change this line:
QuoteThere are no jobs here anymore, and if you're really lucky you can get a house for half a million dollars.
to
QuoteOut to the suburbs where there are still jobs, and you can get a house for less than half a million dollars.
Not a problem :D.
Will do.
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/NigelComic40001.jpg)
Finally done, a little late but done. Hungover, sleep deprived and coffee driven, thank god I finished another lol.
:mittens:
This is fucking awesome.
I think one of the weaker points of these comics is background.
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 18, 2009, 08:55:21 PM
I think one of the weaker points of these comics is background.
Less clutter is good sometimes.
The background isn't weak--everything comes together so very well, NiveK.
the lack of background gives ya space to think about the work that has been done in this case
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/NigelComic50001.jpg)
Fucking WOOT.
that last panel is awesome.
MOAR! :D
Nivek, your art on these fills me with a sense of horror and a sort of impotent, bitter rage. I think you capture Nigel and Roger's words perfectly. I am hoping mine are worthy enough to be illustrated, and i can't wait to see how Crow town turns out if you do. The characters look nothing like Nigel or Roger, but they look, to me, like they have the same soul. I know the green utopia, I have spent time there, and your images capture it in a way that photographs never could.
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/NigelComic60001.jpg)
I really dig the amount of awesome in this thread.
It's an exciting feeling.
They keep getting better! I can't handle the win! :mittens:
Wow. Just. Chills.
:mittens:
Nivek.
The little "made in USA" stamp on the razor... fucking hair stood up on my arms.
Jesus Christ, man. Those eyes in that last frame of the previous page...those are so great. Also, the ending panel for Nigel's section is really well done.
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/BHoruv10001.jpg)
Will resume TGRR'S once this one is finished.
Shit forgot to do shading. :argh!:
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/BHoruv1detail0001.jpg)
With shading and such..
Love the big cockroach leaning on the house. I think it is funny I look kinda like Nigel.
More and more mittens. A mitten pile!
Quote from: BabylonHoruv on October 21, 2009, 10:12:26 PM
Love the big cockroach leaning on the house. I think it is funny I look kinda like Nigel.
TWIN!
Quote from: BabylonHoruv on October 21, 2009, 10:12:26 PM
Love the big cockroach leaning on the house. I think it is funny I look kinda like Nigel.
I have a slew of characters but its a little difficult trying to find ones that fit nicely with the storyline, and these are the most normal characters i have, give or take a couple more. :lulz:
Nivek these are so awesome!
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v487/Siochain/mittens.jpg)
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/NigelComic7001.jpg)
The last page for nigel's Redux.
May end up doing more detail in the last page for Nigel's comic.
OH OH OH!
God, Nivek, I LOVE these!
I actually really adore the idea of each panel being less text-rich, spreading it out a bit. Your artwork is so poignant.
Quote from: Nigel on October 24, 2009, 07:05:28 AM
I actually really adore the idea of each panel being less text-rich, spreading it out a bit. Your artwork is so poignant.
:] Thank you, Nigel. It means alot to hear this kind of feedback on my artwork.
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/BlueHoruv0001.jpg)
Need to fix lettering in the first panel, "Surprisingly" is scrunched. And, yes, the text was changed to make a little more sense.
These are incredible, Nivek.
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/brokencityportland0001.jpg)
Needed a little change of pace for a few moments, so I did a potential cover, if this takes off.
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 25, 2009, 08:04:16 AM
(http://i890.photobucket.com/albums/ac107/Nivek-Rayne/brokencityportland0001.jpg)
Needed a little change of pace for a few moments, so I did a potential cover, if this takes off.
Oh fucking hell, whoa
Made my nipples tight. That is good as fuck.
I love it but you might want to change it to "The City" instead of "Portland". As Roger was saying, this isn't really supposed to be about one specific city. We all live in The City.
Yeah I agree. I understand how it works perfectly for Portland (from what I heard about the place on this board), but naming it Portland is really going to give the readers an idea of "this is not about me, but about those portland neo hippie yups"-
But I low it, that's awesome.
One question, it kind of looks like the guy has three fingers and a thumb? Could be perspective but it sort of gives the idea he's Donald Duck :)
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 25, 2009, 11:05:22 AM
One question, it kind of looks like the guy has three fingers and a thumb? Could be perspective but it sort of gives the idea he's Donald Duck :)
Nope he has three fingers and a thumb. That's how i do my cartoon style. It gets confused with anime too much when i do regular fingers.
That's because Nivek is, herself, a horrible mutant with the wrong number of digits on each extremity. They aren't all the same, either, and her toes end in razor blades.
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on October 25, 2009, 08:39:39 AM
I love it but you might want to change it to "The City" instead of "Portland". As Roger was saying, this isn't really supposed to be about one specific city. We all live in The City.
The comic itself is about "The City". But as I had figured is i would use covers to distinguish between when it changed characters. I think the main cover will be something totally different. this was just for changing over to Nigel's comic.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 25, 2009, 07:49:00 PM
That's because Nivek is, herself, a horrible mutant with the wrong number of digits on each extremity. They aren't all the same, either, and her toes end in razor blades.
You weren't supposed to tell.. :C now i must live out my days only known as NiveK three fingers in some weird side show, traveling the country and scaring little children... actually that doesn't sound half bad.. :lulz:
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 25, 2009, 07:54:16 PM
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on October 25, 2009, 08:39:39 AM
I love it but you might want to change it to "The City" instead of "Portland". As Roger was saying, this isn't really supposed to be about one specific city. We all live in The City.
The comic itself is about "The City". But as I had figured is i would use covers to distinguish between when it changed characters. I think the main cover will be something totally different. this was just for changing over to Nigel's comic.
Yeah, it would be hard to change mine so that Tucson wasn't named, and Nigel's would be REALLY hard to make Neutral.
Plus, Warren Ellis would have our nuts on the hibachi over copyright violations.
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 25, 2009, 07:58:29 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 25, 2009, 07:49:00 PM
That's because Nivek is, herself, a horrible mutant with the wrong number of digits on each extremity. They aren't all the same, either, and her toes end in razor blades.
You weren't supposed to tell.. :C now i must live out my days only known as NiveK three fingers in some weird side show, traveling the country and scaring little children... actually that doesn't sound half bad.. :lulz:
There's probably a downside.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 25, 2009, 07:59:42 PM
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 25, 2009, 07:58:29 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 25, 2009, 07:49:00 PM
That's because Nivek is, herself, a horrible mutant with the wrong number of digits on each extremity. They aren't all the same, either, and her toes end in razor blades.
You weren't supposed to tell.. :C now i must live out my days only known as NiveK three fingers in some weird side show, traveling the country and scaring little children... actually that doesn't sound half bad.. :lulz:
There's probably a downside.
yeah then they would own my very soul.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on October 25, 2009, 07:59:21 PM
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 25, 2009, 07:54:16 PM
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on October 25, 2009, 08:39:39 AM
I love it but you might want to change it to "The City" instead of "Portland". As Roger was saying, this isn't really supposed to be about one specific city. We all live in The City.
The comic itself is about "The City". But as I had figured is i would use covers to distinguish between when it changed characters. I think the main cover will be something totally different. this was just for changing over to Nigel's comic.
Yeah, it would be hard to change mine so that Tucson wasn't named, and Nigel's would be REALLY hard to make Neutral.
Plus, Warren Ellis would have our nuts on the hibachi over copyright violations.
Yeah, plus it gives the readers an idea that this doesn't take place in one city. Plus, I don't want to seem like I'm ripping Transmet off.
I adore what you've done with my part, also Nigel with the snowglobe is beautiful.
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 25, 2009, 07:47:31 PM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 25, 2009, 11:05:22 AM
One question, it kind of looks like the guy has three fingers and a thumb? Could be perspective but it sort of gives the idea he's Donald Duck :)
Nope he has three fingers and a thumb. That's how i do my cartoon style. It gets confused with anime too much when i do regular fingers.
Are you sure it's not a subtle tribute to the stylings of Matt Groening? No, wait. Your character actually has a chin.
Quote from: Iason Ouabache on October 26, 2009, 05:06:10 AM
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 25, 2009, 07:47:31 PM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 25, 2009, 11:05:22 AM
One question, it kind of looks like the guy has three fingers and a thumb? Could be perspective but it sort of gives the idea he's Donald Duck :)
Nope he has three fingers and a thumb. That's how i do my cartoon style. It gets confused with anime too much when i do regular fingers.
Are you sure it's not a subtle tribute to the stylings of Matt Groening? No, wait. Your character actually has a chin.
:lulz: Its just how I've always done my characters. I think its more a tribute to my roots with "The Far Side," "Calvin and Hobbes," and "Garfield." It also sets my characters apart a tad more.
Quote from: NiveKRayne on October 25, 2009, 07:47:31 PM
Quote from: Triple Zero on October 25, 2009, 11:05:22 AM
One question, it kind of looks like the guy has three fingers and a thumb? Could be perspective but it sort of gives the idea he's Donald Duck :)
Nope he has three fingers and a thumb. That's how i do my cartoon style. It gets confused with anime too much when i do regular fingers.
I like it, partly because it gives it a bit of "alternate reality" feel, wherein people actually talk about these horrible things.
According to the local legend, when the Chosen People came here, there was only one tree. I don't know if its true, but I can believe it. Its a desert here, even if it doesn't look like one now. The Chosen People planted trees and bottled up the snowmelt for the crops and didn't starve to death like the outsiders wanted. Thats why they came here you see. The outsiders hate the Chosen People, and burned down the first temple. So the Chosen People came here, where nobody else wanted to live. Except the natives. But they don't like to talk about that in History classes.
Or the Arkansas people. That they don't talk about at all.
Or the soldiers. I don't think they *wanted* to come here though really. But it was very important that the Chosen People. not be allowed democracy. They believed the wrong things you see, and didn't have the right number of wives.
They don't talk about that either. Because its long past, and everybody makes buddy buddy with the outsiders in that other city where the soldiers came from. And clearly the people in that other city would never try to make people believe the Right Things again. Right? There's no *need* for that in the history books. Nobody would learn lessons from that, nobody at all.
I don't live in my City anymore, but I still haven't left. I'm about an hour's drive away, in the capitol. Sometimes, I go back down to visit relatives.
I wouldn't call it a city. Not sure I'd call it a town, even. Not anymore. This place, you see, it used to run on lumber mills. Everybody had a father or an uncle who worked at the mill, so they got an easy summer job, but the job soon became more important than school, so they dropped out to work full-time. Who needs an education when you can get thirty bucks an hour for raw physical labour? This place, people loved the mills. Except I wouldn't call it love. Call it an addiction. Sure, the mills had their side effects. There was the cancer, for one thing. Turns out the chemicals in the steam that came out of those plants every day were some mighty strong shit. And this place, back in its heyday, you couldn't see for twenty feet with all the steam.
Then there was the boredom. Everyone works at the mill, there's very few people left to run anything else but the grocery stores and the bars and the cinema with the week-late releases. Everyone lives way out in the woods anyway, so there's nothing to do but smoke and drink and fuck and shoot up. If there's one thing that's thriving in this place, it's the drugs. You can't get away from them, no matter where you go.
Anyway, the mills are all gone now. All closed down. Too much of an environmental hazard, too much of a health hazard. Too much of a liability to those big companies in this dead-end town. Doesn't matter why they're gone. All that matters is their glorious legacy. You want history? You got it. The lumber mills are gone now, and we've got so much to show for their golden age. So many tumours, so many used needles. So many kids with no futures wasting their time milling around the schools or beating each other up in the town's one bar. So many big cottages up in the woods, rotting and empty now because Dad got laid off and couldn't make the next payment and had to sell the boat and the truck and the four-wheeler. So many rotten dreams, so many used condoms clogging up the river. This place is so empty now that it's spooky. There's a reason they call it a ghost town. See, everyone's gone out west to the oil-sands in the prairies. Drop a neutron bomb on this place, nobody would notice.
But despite it all, I love it, and I can't wait to go back again.
Bump.
If none of you fuckers will post, Ima do some necromancy.
Bumpity.
This thread is indescribably awesome, an absolute jewel.
Quote from: Juvenal on October 08, 2010, 07:09:30 PM
This thread is indescribably awesome, an absolute jewel.
Thanks. I bumped it because I'm using a chunk of it in the Audio Book of the Dead.
The OP was rendered into graphic novel format for MSY2. Due to the squabble with the fraggle who illustrated it, it won't see print, at least for a while. I have the files, and I may just post them here.
Still waiting for the fraggle.
Any more e-mails since the last batch?
Quote from: Sister Fracture on January 17, 2011, 07:30:41 PM
Any more e-mails since the last batch?
Nope. Despite her situation, though, she's still online 24/7.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 17, 2011, 07:37:46 PM
Quote from: Sister Fracture on January 17, 2011, 07:30:41 PM
Any more e-mails since the last batch?
Nope. Despite her situation, though, she's still online 24/7.
Friend's mom probably caved because she would be out on the street, so she's still there. More than she deserves, really.
Quote from: Sister Fracture on January 17, 2011, 07:38:54 PM
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 17, 2011, 07:37:46 PM
Quote from: Sister Fracture on January 17, 2011, 07:30:41 PM
Any more e-mails since the last batch?
Nope. Despite her situation, though, she's still online 24/7.
Friend's mom probably caved because she would be out on the street, so she's still there. More than she deserves, really.
Heh. It would be like having a tapeworm that not only consumes your resources, but leaves the mess all over your spleen.
EUUUUURGH! :lulz:
This was one of my favorite group works!!!