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The approach of NaNoWriMo inspired this: soon everybody's going to need ideas, and lots of us probably have a few extra that we're not using...
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Spotted in Moby-Dick: in 1842, slaves plowing virgin soil on the Georgia plantation of a Mr. Creagh uncovered the skeleton of an ancient whale. Having never seen a whale, the simple laborers took the enormous bones to be the remains of a fallen angel.
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Title: The Wreck of the F. Scott Fitzgerald
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The disguises of violence: that is, how one may use the chaos of war or conflict to settle personal scores. e.g. imagine a bomb tossed in a Drumcree window during Marching Season: an obvious act of sectarian violence—except it isn't: it's one Catholic killing another Catholic for reasons not overtly political.
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The Gospel of Judas Iscariot: a mystical gospel, like John's, rather than synoptic: its prevalent imagery darkness and silence, as opposed to the Word and the Light. Parallels/parodies synoptic Gospels at key points, casting Peter as the real traitor, as he who fails to understand Christ's message of sacrifice: and Judas as "the beloved disciple," who understands that the Son must die that the world should live...
"Jesus said, Amen, I have told that whoever would save his life shall lose it: but I tell you now that whosoever would save the life of the Son of Man shall not enter into the Kingdom. For it is written that the Son of Man shall be put to the trial, so it must be. He loves not the Father who would seek to frustrate His design: and he who loves not the Father, loves not the Son. And yet, amen, I say to you that one of you shall betray me this night...
"Now there was among the twelve a man called Peter, a man both violent and cowardly. And Peter said, Surely it is not I, Lord?"
Breaks off before the Resurrection, for obvious reasons.
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title: The Main Street Electrical Charade
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Fatal car wreck: car strikes a prize deer. The driver is not killed by the impact itself, but is gored by the deer's antlers as it comes crashing through the windshield.
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The Murders in the Grand Guignol: a lost tale of Edgar Allen Poe.
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A chain of philosophy cafés—a place to enjoy world-famous desserts in an elevated intellectual atmosphere. The chain's name: Cogito Ergo Yum.
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Paul Bowles was the CIA's man in Tangier—keeping track of the expats and the freaks, of the political rumblings amongst the rough trade, and reporting it all in long, elegantly coded letters to his stateside handlers, prose as lucid and fraught as his fiction.
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A cocktail: the Mother's Ruin, Bombay gin with a shot of testosterone served smoking cold over ice. |
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