6 8 2015 - CHAPTER 20 - Legacy Objectives

6
8
2015

CHAPTER 20

Legacy Objectives

———

“It’s kind of fun to do the impossible.”

- Walt Disney

———

in the park
on the Hudson
amidst sunlit leaves of grass,
blondyn—
Lotus Posed,
Cosmic,
Meditative ‘Tranced

OM…

aeternal vibration,
resonated across environment,
to the folks about—
to the ships on water—
to the chipmunks in branches—
scratchin’ whiskers,
wondering…

OM…

“…he just been there a while…”

— said one munk to another, neither sure what to make about it.

leave it to blondyn —

babe was hyped on Absolute Destiny.
had absorbed too much history
to think the swing of step but miscellany.
he was still driving for Higher Purpose—
a tighter angle of lights/camera/action—
all the while
yo-yo-ing
midst the earthquake temptation of 40 days / nights.

yes.
he wanted past it—
had been honing long and strong
for the OM most true.
he felt ready to break through another layer
of a 21st Century
near you.

OM…—

“…MMMy goodness—quick—catch it—”

blondyn swung pack,
snatched laptop,
flipped top / propped it square before him.

“capture the thought stream 'fore the mentalese undo—”

blondyn typed imagined typed—

Legacy Objectives

1. Promote Open Source Creation

Why?

- Open Source Promotes Education Through Creation
- Encourages Interdependence at the Individual Level
- Future Friendly

How?


- Prove Open Source Creation…

2. Tell The Story

Why?

- To Entertain Experiences
- To Share Insights
- To Relay Lessons Learned

How?

- flash journalism — blondyn.com

3. Improve Lifestyle:

Why?

- To better embrace Life / Love / Universe
- To build Relationships
- To improve Quality of Existence

How?

- HQ Interaction

great,
thought blondyn,
now what?

youth woke up'n out the OM,
stretched,
had a moment of observation,
as thinking on course of action to make manifest—

blondyn

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2015
blondyn.com

6 1 2015 - Chapter 14 - sexy mama

6
1
2015

Chapter 14

sexy mama

”Home is where the Heart is”

Pliny the Elder

—

disco grooves through the GothamWest Jukebox—
out the sunlit sparkles,
sexy mama

tank top.
bell-bottoms.
green eyes.

nothing too fancy.
lady classy
except for that leather watch ring

(mama’s way of asking for trouble)

“hey sexy mama,” said blondyn, opening arms, “hug me.”

she went in, squeezed.
two hugged @ length.
blondyn flashbacked to the starry night they met—

2013—
blondyn met her daughter.
(another story)
before long,
word got to mama
the youth was catching Zzz @ Imagine Fields,
just round the block—
72nd street.

sexy mama didn’t like the sound of this,
she and daughter fixed him some sandwiches
& inspected on the situation.

suddenly—

mama & daughter
+ blondyn
—new family unit living @ the Towers.
happily?
not exactly.
drama abroad.
(another story)
blondyn played the part.
raised sister strong.
slaved to save mama,
(another story)
one day, mama + sister
left nyc.
blondyn fell from Towers
(2014)
back on streets
roughing it w/ urban outfitters
wit heartbeat / grinding stone
of
USA

“what you doing here mama?”

quick trip.
searching for a new place to live.
home.
thought maybe moving back cityward’d be good for her—
same story,
yet home was hard to come by.

“and how far you running mama?”

she put sass in her stance
that somehow took the q
& threw it back on b.

was he running too?
trying to escape some unnameable something?
he went on pondering.

no.
had decided that many times ago.
blondyn was positively Questing,
Adventuring—
Crusading after the Destiny of His Most High Potential Standing.
whatever that means.
and what exactly any this had to do with creative writing was beyond he.
he loved to hate it tho.
long road to race for happiness,
especially considering one didn’t know what that road looked like to anybody.

perhaps happiness was not to be found, but fathomed—
somehow
someway,
each day,
every moment—
nirvana—
siddhartha—
OM.

URGENT! Writing Assignment 1001

-the e-mail alert had suddenly shown on the CPU screen.

“now you know there’s lots of love,” he said, putting his arm around her as throwing the other to the CPU.  “but son has to play these keys.”

you could be straight with mama.
was tougher than most.
she didn’t know what he was ever doing on those blasted keys.

(another story)

“go to Miami or someplace new,” said blondyn, “give me a reason to come see you.”

blondyn thought she’d claw him.
sexy mama knew better than to do so in public.
good thing, too.

“maybe i’ll just live on the streets with you…”

he shook his head.

“c'mon mama,” said blondyn, “streets are death row…” he nodded, “know you wouldn’t last.”

it was hard to make mama smile.

“and how long are you going to go on living like this?”

blondyn thought.

“til we reach the dawn,” he said, “or home, or whatever you wish to call it, now scoot!—get this olive skin off to miami sun.”

blondyn pushed her on.
pivoted.
saw the screen.

blondyn

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2015
blondyn.com

5 29 2015 - Chapter 11 - Driven

5
29
2015

Chapter 11

Driven

out the Whole Foods…
a character…
fired!

“ ‘oly smoke. ”

-onlooker

he said it
upon getting hit wit a carrot
that blew out the bag blondyn was holding on the run.

“kid jus’ rip that stash?”

-passerby

she said it
upon seeing the way
blondyn juked
the pedestrians, traffic, construction zone
before swinging the corner without trace.

“yip!”

-poodle

come now, poodle, thought blondyn.
ought know by now
city streets no place for fluff.
but there was plenty to go 'round,
anyhow.
that’s one reason the kid aimed his game
on running a razor fine line
to cut through it—
straight to it—
hauling heel to toe 'n hard
for the CopyDesk
where blondyn was scheduled to promptly set to work.

yep.
youth scoot like top-gun
on a crusade to save mankind
&
pressed for overtime,
but what was it all about?

well.
somewhere long the way,
blondyn saw Writing
like a fortune 500 figure
saw Enterprise,
which given certain considerations,
(financial,social,self-esteemical)
had whisked blondyn in peculiar situations
(financially,socially,self-esteemically)
some of which—
he’d finally decided—
made for copy
worthy of writing.

seeing as writing required the kid
to be in for the ride—
and since the story of his day by day
was the only story he could sincerely own/align—
blondyn finally had come to terms
with taking a feature role in the show.

o mama.

he promised the ego was Grade A Okay
+
Lean-Tame Certified.
just time to try something new.
that make it any less a crime?
in this day and age,
probs no.
but in Skyscraper Metropolis,
waking up entailed friction
somewhere 'long the line…
and freestyle rhymin’ could be such a chimin’ thing.
given that realism,
flash journalism—
social media novel—
narrative reflection/refraction
on the life + times.

but honestly why?
how come?
what’s it all about anyways?

above all things,
blondyn’s ultimate dream
be to awake each day
to that compelling future—
some way by which
to commit his essence
to a fraction of

The AEternal

via a sense of mission—
belonging—
a duty to confide in
via gravity to explore,
interact with,
and derive some depth of value to deliver
and potentially
set another free…

couldn’t find it between 9-5,
nor in the restaurants,
beauty salons,
or the other 'odd-jobs’ he’d worked
in those yonder past askance moments of the hustle

all the while
he’d been chasing after
that purpose
to lasso the whole life + love of him
and pivot upon his routine existence.
daily bread to extend beyond.
to think it dawned upon him in sleep
that high-speed literature
was the place he had to be—
it was the whole reason
that blondyn was wheeling to the CopyDesk
like a gazelle with a cheetah hot on his prance.

skrrrt!!!

rrrt!!

rrt!

rt.

-Red Wing Boots, upon slamming brakes on street

he stepped out the smoke,
black tar, clinging on his step,
as he approached the building.

“well look at that,” he said. “Gotham West Market.”

yep.
the CopyDesk.
yep.
time to get to work.
yep.

blondyn

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2015
www.blondyn.com

5 27 2015 - Chapter 9 - Sunshine

5
27
2015

Chapter 9

Sunshine

In the shade of the house,
in the sunshine of the riverbank
near the boats,
in the shade of the Sal-wood forest,
in the shade of the fig tree
is where Siddhartha
grew up…

- Siddhartha

…with the wind—

ran fast to shelter—
gym—
push-up’d, pull-up’d, crunch'd—

(fun)

hit shower.
59° approx.
roughly 1 min.,
standard/
followed through with revving temp hotter'n hotcakes.

“(yao!)”

hopped out,
skin red
toweled the sweat ‘n dressed up
checked outfit in the mirror.

“what you know?”
ask’d blondyn.
“fav. summer fit.”

-Black HM shorts
-Black Harley Davidson Tank
-Black Red Wings Boots

“work it babe”

on run,
jumped into Whole Foods Market,
fruit + vegetable color bounty

“check the sparkle on this PRODUCE,”
he reflected,
“smell the VITAMIN.“
he refracted,
grasp the QUALITY”

new yorkers were flowing in,
scooping stock,
fast as Whole Foods Marketeers stocked shelf.

“HQ producers don’t quit giving,”
he said,
“HQ consumers don’t quit coming,”
he added,
“like some precious cycle of HQ Value…”
he concluded.

"if only one could fathom on fashioning it to Writing…”

CC
2015
blondyn

5 25 2015 - Chapter 7 - Lo & Behold!

5

25

2015

Chapter 7

Lo & Behold!

~

“A good traveler has no fixed plans

and is not intent upon arriving.

A good artist lets his intuition

lead him wherever it wants.

A good scientist has freed himself of concepts

and keeps his mind open to what is.”

-Tao Te Ching

~

lost.

out to sea.

like at present—

all ‘board,

upon a Tall Ship,

all 'lone,

one hand in pocket;

other one

jazz snappin’

to the Thelonious lull

of ocean roll

b/w reflections of the downtrodden backstory—

(http://jonblondyn.blogspot.com/)—

as concentrating on the scintillating visionary—

(happening)—

all midst orchestrating

the AElixir of Mind Heart Spirit

Unto a Singularity of The Wind

To sex his sails hunky dory

like a feature presentation of direction unbound.

just like that,

in essence,

found—

“land ho!”

o blondyn.

there he go again.

only dude on deck,

narrating himself third person—

(or is it 2nd…?)—

as towin’ lines,

hoistin’ sails,

envisionin’ Kingdom Come on the Horizon

to which he head.

“ah… home sweet home,” says blondyn, “journalism poetry.”

and just like that,

with chapter 1, hardly on,

he fancies he’s crossed the rubicon fine line of his destiny.

o blondyn.

“better let my friends in on it.”

he makes a dash over to the treasure chest

where letters ‘i-m-a-g-i-n-e’

been carved with a Bowie Knife.

go figure.

he kicks off the lock,

opens it up,

pulls out a Message In A Bottle,

throws it overboard

and claps the hard work off his hands

just like he done the time before.

“this time different tho,” he fathoms, “this time, getting learn’d on a Tao Te Ching Approach to the Day.”

and without being all too keen on what it means

he takes a deep breath

and just like that

blows winds in the sails

full speed yonder,

all the while unknowing

the reality of the scene—

he asleep on the streets of nyc

dreaming up this dream

at present.

~

blondyn