Jeph Jacques's comics discussion forums

Fun Stuff => CHATTER => Topic started by: IronOxide on 07 Sep 2010, 07:54

Title: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: IronOxide on 07 Sep 2010, 07:54
This Door:

(http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash2/hs302.ash2/58203_1376251218693_1604220175_30881845_6176949_n.jpg)
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: GenericName on 07 Sep 2010, 08:31
On blank grey wall, with blank grey door, I saw a place where I could stay. The scarlet letters, scarlet signs, made chaos in communiqué. I lingered here, by whitewashed wall, the cinderblocks became my friends; I know no more, it seems to say, if this is where my journey ends. The path here was a toilsome one; through red-hot flames and pitch-black wells; yet here it seems I must perpend what these two omens mean to tell. The fiery words on neutral wall burn cinders in my sense of place; indeed, my ill-fit resting spot seems far more apt an exit place. Yet others knew it was not so: what was an outlet, now is not- one last adieu I shall not get because of words placed on this spot.
My life sans purpose, now it seems, is like a coal on moonlit sands; at whim of those with more than me, I listen to the words at hand. They speak to me, when others don't, they tell me what can come to pass; this door, it seems, is no more used for what it once had known steadfast.
The sharp red lights cut into me just as the wall behind them soothes; although I wish to stay no more, my benefactors speak the truth. I cannot leave this place I love, for exit is forbidden; I must not stay, or clear white walls will show what once was hidden.

Is that florid enough?
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: KharBevNor on 07 Sep 2010, 10:00
The turgid air was heavy and pregnant with the unfolding story of a promise of a storm. Distant thunder rolled down from the surrounding jagged mountains like barrels of hellish ale rolling down God's own loading ramp into the beer cellar of the night. This was the atmosphere of the dark and grim night the night Lord Rolande came before the portal.

He was a man of handsome demeanour and handsomer domain. He rode a white horse, but not that night, for it was being shod, and the cost of its shodding was considerable, for Lord Rolande, though a man of great sophistication, was not a man who could judge a bargain.

Lord Rolande stood before the portal. Its colour was grey. It was not the greyness of slate, nor yet the greyness of a grey horse, nor even the greyness of a grey pencil, but it was the very greyness of a grey door. He stood before it, like a statue it seemed, poised on the threshold. His eyes, which were grey, but a different grey from the door, indeed actually the greyness of slate, which was not the doors greyness, darted hither and thither at the two signs which adorned the door.

After a long time, Lord Rolande's lips parted, like a yawning chasm opening in the heart of the world...

"FFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Caleb on 07 Sep 2010, 10:59
And I screamed until the walls reverberated with my sorrow.

"Oh Portal!  Oh Outlet!  Oh escape! How can you be an exit and yet not exist?" To Egress from you would be fulfilling your purpose and yet clearly you have no purpose. What is your meaning?  What is the meaning of anything!  You are like a tree in winter with no leave instead of no leaves."

There is no end, there is no exit.  We all simply stand, waiting for the fire alarm to sound.
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Kugai on 07 Sep 2010, 22:53
I see The Great Circleing Poets of Arium have shown up.
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Johnny C on 09 Sep 2010, 01:19
jean-paul sartre walks into a bar, gets a drink, and then has a really hard time finding the way out
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: The extra letter on 09 Sep 2010, 01:54
Quick, someone do it in the style of Bukowski, Hemingway and Garrison Keillor.
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Nodaisho on 09 Sep 2010, 02:31
jean-paul sartre walks into a bar, gets a drink, and then has a really hard time finding the way out
Better than what happened to Descartes.
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: KharBevNor on 09 Sep 2010, 03:23
Quick, someone do it in the style of ... Garrison Keillor.

"Welcome to Lake Wobegone, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the doors are fucking crazy."
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Boro_Bandito on 09 Sep 2010, 10:52
Hemingway : The first time he tried to walk through the door he pissed his pants and ran, but then the man walked through the grey door and died a masculine death, but was at peace with himself and died well because he conquered a door that said 'no exit'. The rest of the story is about whether or not his wife meant to shoot him in the head or not.
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: TheFuriousWombat on 09 Sep 2010, 15:47
non-sarcastic Hemingway would be more like: "There was a door set into the beige wall. It had a push bar. There were two signs. One was on the door and said 'No Exit.' The other was above the door and said 'Exit.'"
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: SirJuggles on 09 Sep 2010, 20:34
Hemingway was not a very florid man.
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Ballard on 09 Sep 2010, 21:08
Anyone game for Humbert Humbert-style Nabokov?
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Elizzybeth on 09 Sep 2010, 22:17
Humbert Humbert:

Exhibit number three is an industrial grey door, complete with gleaming aluminum pushbar and two insistent but conflicting signs--"No Exit" and "Exit."  I am sure that by now the reader can imagine how, as I sat contemplating that door, images of budding nymphets danced through my mind.  No, not just nymphets, gentlemen--my nymphet, my Lolita, my Lo, the girlish slender curve of her tanned back une harpe, pleading with my aching, lusty soul to pluck its puerile strings.  I reach, slowly, I reach--only to have her snap back, hoarsely, tersely, "Stop it!"  Oh, Lolita!  (Oh, Annabel!)  The door with its two rival signs put inextricably into my mind my own eternal internal duel: I must, but I can't, and yet I must.
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Ballard on 09 Sep 2010, 22:47
o/
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Elizzybeth on 09 Sep 2010, 23:07
\o
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Kugai on 09 Sep 2010, 23:15
Next we'll have Seven of Nine's report to Captain Janeway.
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Boro_Bandito on 09 Sep 2010, 23:22
You want florid? Go for Faulkner. I want to hear it Sherwood Anderson style.
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: öde on 16 Sep 2010, 09:15
The door that must be opened must also remain closed. The opening of the door is also the closing of it, and all that would be gained, would not be. Therefore the superior man realises that the door is already open, and does not try to open it, but leaves it closed. This is the Tao of the door.
Title: Re: Explain To Me, In Florid Prose
Post by: Cernunnos on 16 Sep 2010, 10:05
? (http://www-personal.umich.edu/~tirtzae/installation%20jpg/Duchamp_door.jpg)