He recalls her cursing, and saying, “people will die, Marv. At the end of the day, what do you think you will accomplish, my friend?” She swore. “I hate it when you won’t listen to me, Marv. Now I want you to take me back to my apartment---I carpooled with Rhona, I never have to worry about driving my own car, at any rate...so am I in the will for the Caddy, Marv?” He looked at her and gave a little smile. The tall brunette from the other night---Diamond Lil, was it? ---struts on stage to “Poison” by Alice Cooper. She keeps it simple---she is not the technically accomplished dancer---she is playing a game, savoring the sound of the man dramatically opened as prey. When he unlocked the door to his lonesome hovel, the rustling envelopes jammed beneath slithered in the moonlight licking the floor. A tired yellow burst of lamp light from the end table revealed a call for campaign contributions for Senator Rourk. Inside the pamphlet, he explained how he needed to raise funds to conti

“Basin City Blues, pt. 2” Vic Sage watches a person in priestly robes on his knees, hands open in supplication as though he seeks complete surrender and communion with some higher power, his gaze facing above the pulpit, while at the back of the 1000 seat chapel Sage stands silently stock-still. He sits with bated breath into one of the pews, as the apparent priest asks clearly aloud: ‘How will I know this Lady of Light? When will the world twist as before my eyes? How do I know, I am not still bound in purgatory?” Vic bows his head very low, listening inquisitively to this private soul searching. But the soul for which he has sought---which, indeed, brought both of these unrelated men to this place---walks in from the vestibule, the lady tall, slender, yet demure, in black, her cuffs and closely-drawn neckline all in white lace, as is her belt. She is near to tears, stepping forward quickly, then pacing gently, releasing her sobs, staggering towards forgiveness. Now newest friar of

Basin City Blues (introduction to the “dtoxiverse”, characters suggested by D. Whiteley) Setting: Basin City; scene: Kadie's Club Pecos. In an out-of-the-way booth, while a very tall brunette dances a burlesque on stage with cruelly pursed lips, to Prince’s “You Got the Look,” Nancy Callahan is having the tail end of a conversation with a young woman who tells of her harrowing kidnapping/ rape and abuse at the hands of a man she lived with for the past decade. She'd been helping him with his shipping business, and he'd bring her tiny, exotic gifts from all over the world when he traveled. Why did she stay? They had a child together, she says, and eventually his heartless torture stopped. By then, she could not imagine another life...he loved her in his own way, found the truth in love. Not damn likely, Nancy thinks, but she asks: what happened? And would she care for a Smart Water (“they're good when you still have to dance”)? Deep in the back, some twelve f

THE VANISHING WAVES Part three, “Eye of the Storm Waves” : Johnny Storm, a.k.a. the Human Torch Any time you can fly where the mountains stand and still smell the ocean... It’s the same type of temperature here in So Cal that I choose to maintain. For me, being hot is a state of mind. Sky high sights roll to me over bits of the city poised in the mountain peaks that descend into the city, just as we do. Reed is a channel, I admit, I like to turn down when I can, so I can take in my own observations... In every direction I look, there’s a beautiful girl. Every one else is okay, too. If no one needs the Fantastic Four today, why not find out what’s hidden in Escondido? We’re there from San Diego in 3 minutes. Ben is making some joke about visitin’ the wild animal safari. I’ve flamed on as our craft decelerates in a freakishly efficient use of inertia. Typical inside California city limits, every space set out as space is alread

4-8-09 cld Alicia Masters, sculptress: The ocean’s side is the finest place to envision one’s surrounding, when seen the way the blind person sees it. Regular, rhythmic, yet constantly in flux; the visitors of every species across its shifting surface... The smells so pungent and full of life, the awesome smallness of humanity before the face of its oceans can be felt beyond the hints to the naked eye: a smallness beside the passages of time, here to shape the land for a moment amidst its waves on one of the dozen San Diego beaches... Franklin: Uncle Johnny! Alicia: (in thought) We find the slight chill of the elements and a kiss of the love of the sun, while I hear the cooling man’s feet splashed with hissing kisses across the moist, clay-like slurries of sand. “So how you like California, nephew?” says Johnny Storm. “I love it!” replies little Franklin, “and I hope, hope, HOPE you still want to take me out to look for the sea life off the shore!” “Inna minute,” Johnny rep

Sun Strike, Valkyrie Maid, and their triangle with Lord Dragonvayne came up over birthday dinner with our friend Smorg, whose articles can open your idea of Southern California, and can be found at Associated Press. Unable to sleep, I zipped out this e-mail, presenting a very strong idea that serves to pastiche her comment (inspired by observing modern geo-politics) into expanding lore---thus meeting this blog's requirements to cross-over creators and universes! This time with all original ideas: I found the zest to fire off an editorial page-style rejoinder to one of Caryl's mails, when I then recalled I needed to thank you for understanding the vampire to be 3000 years old rather than the thousand I associate with this hold-out from the coming of Christianity (shamed by his name "David" I believe). Either before you said that or since, I thought it well there be a more ancient vampire remaining in the shadows. As it was, I had considered not simply assigning Lo