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

CC
2015
www.blondyn.com

5
28
2015

Chapter 10

Star Light, Star Bright

We feel that we have a responsibility to…
shine the light…
into the darkness

- Blackstar

if only one could fathom on fashioning it to Writing…

…Chapter 9 thought echoed all the way into Chapter 10…
til suddenly—
voice dawned upon him.

“blondyn—” said Vasudeva, “Come here, help us with this.”

blondyn used to work @ Whole Foods Market.
still bought his apple-carrot combo
near every single day

(holy ritual)

“Hold the ladder please while I change this bulb.”

blondyn obeyed,
inwardly
hyper-extending.

“how does this fit to the world of writing?”

again,
he noted the speed of the Supply X Demand Exchange all around him—
NYC Consumers & Producers X HQ Whole Foods Market Interface.

“speed’s one thing,” he said, “but HQness on the fly?”

he got shy.

“how in the world of writing can you flip any tidbit of HQ Realtime Propensity unless it stripped of your very step?”

he got on with it.

“torn of your mojo—rugged as the struggle—bare as your daring do and dedicated reason for which you breath-ride-be?”

he sighed.

Vasudeva removed the burnt out flash,
dropped it in the trash,
grabbed a frash bulb from the produce line.

blondyn got on with it.

“abounding presence of the social media medium be a caliber fit for streaming a day in the life … a true life story … but golly, honestly, who’d care to hear?”

Vasudeva turned stern suddenly.

“You’re in New York City…” he said, “Could you reflect on the times?”

“true.”

“You have a peculiar mode of lifestyle…” he added, “Would you relay insightful perspective?”

“potentially.”

“You have a fascinating story,” he concluded, “Should you touch it with a hint of classic?”

“wait a second V, when did ii ever share you on my story?” he asked, “and in terms of classic, and it ‘nough these days to jus’ be cute 'n motley?”

Vasudeva continued turning the bulb.

“a poetry journalism flash epic delivered daily may honestly be over the top, even for me…” said blondyn, “and yet, could make for a spine—a parallel backbone for a future novel via journalism on the fly—the story—the narrative—the crusade you’ve been ever after all the while…”

never 'fore seen
waves of light
dawning inside realizatory capillaries.

part of him knew it was all nonsense.
possibly yet another transitory fleeting.
but it was endearing him w/ fabulous passing
and he chose to hold onto it as usual with his sacred majestic precious sense of urgency.

and like that, Vasudeva’s light went on.

“There it is.”

checking on blondyn’s firm hold, he climbed down the three steps, one by one
as the young one
kept assessing on
the Train of Thought Experience he was dedicating himself to deliver.

“Here you go.”

Vasudeva handed blondyn the 5 lb bag of carrots he routinely purchased.

“o mama…” he said as accepting, “why not?”

blondyn grabbed up an apple, too, and got on with singing—

“a lot of stars is trekking—
ain’t nothing final about the frontier
Train of Thought came to take you there, yeah
Train of Thought came to take you there, yeah
the Train of Thought came…”

CC
2015
blondyn

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 26 2015 - Chapter 8 - Awakening

5

26

2015

Chapter 8

Awakening

TO YOU

STRANGER!

if you passing,

meet me,

and desire to speak to me,

why should you not speak to me?

And why should I not speak to you?

- Walt Whitman

~

right there.

streets of NYC.

Stranger was walkin’, decided to wake him.

“Hey ya!”

blondyn opened eyes.

sunlight pierced pupils.

beams stung to the nerve ending of the memory strings

where embers of a dream

—the last moments of the scene—

hotly shining.

“o…”

at the moan, Stranger turned concerned.

saw the kid was in pain.

blondyn explained:

“just woke me from hi-fi fantasy…”

blondyn was recounting.

Tall Ship had just been sliding into black-gold sands of a shore.

Promised Land, at last, but alas…

“fantasy?”

Stranger took stock of blondyn’s sleeping bag,

boots,

water bottle,

dirty gum-stuck Sidewalk,

etc. reality.

“what fantasy?”

well said.

but blondyn bit his tongue.

if only he could say, but where to start—

dream was already beginning to fade.

just like that, fantasy became for the capturing.

“gimme a second…”

blondyn sat up, pulled out his iPhone.

began typing iNotes.

fast scenes of the vision.

“it’s moving at lightspeed…”

Stranger flashed the wtf face—

blondyn went on typing—

ADHD notes on fast track—

a skit-sketch—

bulletesque—

raw Hemingway report—

( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iceberg_Theory )—

v_1.0.0.1 super beta.

“the dream,” he added, “the story…”

at the explanation,

Stranger was more confused yet,

nonetheless, hadn’t the time to hang around.

“Why are you sleeping on the streets?”

b had heard the q before.

many times. different ways.

some days, he was in the mood to test the waters.

“o, you know…” said blondyn, “just tryin’ to catch some Zzz…”

while Stranger pressed for words,

blondyn tapped the last details of the dream in his phone,

closed the app,

and winked an eye in appreciation to Stranger.

“but you woke me with righteous timing,” he said, “and i thank you for that.”

blondyn stretched to the light.

felt his shirt, slightly sweaty in Spring/Summer Sun warming.

disgusting, sure, but the day appeared perty

and he knew he’d be on to the gym ‘n showering soon.

“Why are you here?”

Stranger wanted answers, fast.

blondyn grabbed a boot.

slipped it on, started lacing up.

“writing.”

Stranger continued gazing.

His expression affirmed the response explained everything.

Truth is, it nearly did.

“I left you that.”

Stranger pointed to a wad of one dollar bills on the pavement.

dollar bills so dirty

blondyn initially thought Stranger had brought him more NYC litter.

“For Bacon and Coffee.”

blondyn raised his eyes.

just like that,

Stranger had flipped the confusion back onto the instigator.

“bacon and coffee?”

blondyn said it like he’d never heard such a thing.

“Breakfast,” said Stranger, “Protein,” he added, “Keep you strong.”

the money looks like bacon, thought blondyn.

bacon that’d been dipped in coffee.

she didn’t know blondyn was a vegan on the street-life diet.

as ponderin’ on how there was no way he was touching that thing, he smiled at the gesture.

“thanks Stranger,” said blondyn, “you’re my Good Samaritan.”

suddenly,

Good Samaritan visibly warmed,

but like classic NYC, not wanting to be one to show it.

“Take care of yourself.”

Just like that, Good Samaratan walked yonder.

“good ole nyc.”

even on the weekend,

the setting was at work to wake you for the dawn.

just like that, blondyn rose, packed, got on the run.

blondyn

CC

2015

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

5 22 2015 - enlightyn

look babe.

something magical happened.

ahuh.

came of your smile.

no, honest.

affect of your sparkle.

stop it.

no you stop it.

okay fine.

will take this time

t tell you in

on how you saved

my life by large.

no, honest.

you did.

and with one word—

e n l i g h t y n

ahuh.

what about it?

can’t say.

not that ii don’ wanna.

just can’t quite figure on how one oughta.

poetry babe.

go figure.

certain our love sparked it.

positive.

happened in the darkness.

yesterday was hard.

you know how somedays written in sorrow?

tragedy was yesterday.

yeah mama.

then came dawn.

all started the night before.

nightmare had slipped inside me.

scenes

of

complete loss—

utter destitution—

crazy absolute darkness

within & without me.

didn’t want to live no more.

was sinking in sappy abyss,

drowning inside out,

was just about gone

when through all the psychological dissonance,

universal ripple of your voice

cut through the mire

to reach me

via

the one word

that you, babe—

that you

had spoken—

e n l i g h t y n

your word, mama.

suddenly

midst the thick of the darkness,

was seeing stars in the shape of your portrait

right like that,

underworld disappeared

opened my eyes

to a new day upon me,

rays of sunshine

in my eyes,

quite unlike

any i’d ever seen before.

didn’t understand right away,

and well past noon up til early evening—

the whole of yesterday—

was confused as questioning

every oz. of my self-esteem—

my reason for existence—

my purpose & core belief

in driving forth

w/ aeternal fortitude

in order to overcome struggle monumental.

and then,

well beyond the sun had set, babe,

you and I met

by the starlight over central park

and upon catching that outline of your face,

your word, babe—

e n l i g h t y n

flashed through me.

did ii show it?

cause it hit like lightning.

sight of you, babe,

well.

struck me with soul power

time spent with you

ignited a power hour

of self-realization + inner discovery.

“ ‘nough being bunt cake,” ii decided.

high-time to jumpstart metamorphosis of reinvention 101—

a hyper-animated self : environment state of engagement.

absorb like everlasting & render high quality life daily.

must open UP—

become more transparent—

a model of positive motion all along the rise

via creation of supernatural value

til my mind : heart : spirit ratio

brilliant as your starshine,

l*ve,

that saved me from the start.

remember always, babe—

before you set forth your Way,

every moment

by every thought

that you have throughout your day

comprises every opportunity

we will ever have here on Earth.

for our time here today,

whether together or apart,

let’s agree to create symphony between us—

a revolution Magum Opus,

to resound from this generation

to those beyond

via

majestic celebration

of

life + love.

*

*

*

blondyn

CC

2015

5 22 2015 - Aladdyn Exponential - Chapter 3

3

Ælphabit









An iridescent tidal wave of §uper§tring§ towered and powered across Outer Space.
Carving the face, the Crystal Ship tore from trough to crest by the currents of serpents that filled and pressed the sails onward.
Above the main-mast, upon the triangular lookout platform, Quantum[X] commanded complete mastery of the flight.



For a long, long time, weather of winds and wave had continuously loosed from his dark frame as suave motions of arms fine-tuned the way.
Throughout his passage across the void, he searched for signs of direction—instances of guidance—all the while keeping the bow aligned with the shining trinity, on high.
Though the checkpoints were few, and the darkness, overwhelming, he stayed the course, through and through, when by visible light, he espied a planet, emerging from the night, aligned in the foreground of the constellation.



Upon sighting the sphere, a memory from a past life was called to mind.
He entertained words she had once spoken.
He pondered the nature of the rendezvous she had designed.



With a whoosh of arms, he yielded a rush of his physique—§uper§tring§ unto the wave, increasing and accelerating its aspect and momentum.
While his physicality lent his Essence, it was his highly orderly state that empowered his potential.
Via Mind, Heart, and Spirit, came the Word—constructed of symbols—the alphabit that quantum[X] defined.



(alphabit) | {design} | [definition];



The code he envisioned scripted across his lens.
With lightspeed, input (x) was parsed by function {f} and rendered unto the return—[f(x)].
Definition was hardwired until further upgrade.



/*



Definition—



alphabit—[al-fuh-bit]—noun;



1. qubit(s) of consciousness, synthesized of Mind, Heart and Spirit;
2. soundbit(s) of communication, synthesized of Mind, Heart and Spirit;
3. alphabit(s) of condition, synthesized of Mind, Heart and Spirit;



*/



Quantum[X] was the product of innovative evolution.
A transcendent reaction of the past had enhanced him with extraordinary fitness.
Within and without the Universe, he was one in touch with the space-time fabric.



Driving on edge of the tidal wave's crest, he was watching as rings of icy debris whipped round the planet when something in a far corner of the cosmos captured his attention.
He zoomed his attention lightyears ahead—to a nebula—northeast of his heading.
A disc of golden sparks—stellar dust and gaseous matter—was wheeling round.
The fiery light was winding—tightening—maturing unto a star, soon to be born.



Before long, the shape of the disk evolved to that of an hourglass.
The greater he focused, the more he saw—the finer the clarity of pattern that he resolved.
To fill in the missing pixels, the white bars of his lens began vibrating—holographing—REMing the imagery he was experiencing.



In a sunflower-yellow sundress was his Love—pirouetting, shedding showers of light from her gown unto the blue velvet background of Outer Space.
He was simultaneously juxtaposing the exact scene with a memory from a past life—a moment in time when his Love had begun to overwhelm him beyond the realm of reality.
Suddenly, an oncoming glacier shattered the reverie—



quantum[X] winged arms at the sails, hurling the vessel down vertical steeps.
While he swept out from harms way, the rock impacted the wave's crest.
A tidal ripple across the face flipped the ship askance.

The craft tumbled haphazardly ahead of the wave.
Along the roll, it was headed for a collison with a second hulk of ice, oncoming.
With vision steadied, quantum[X] pressed wrists together, charged and thrust a Force Sphere of §uper§tring§ that vaporized the glacier.



Upon fumbling through the mist, quantum[X] lashed serpentine reins unto the sails.
The crystal ship shot for the tidal wave racing towards it, and next instance was oscillating across its face.
With a chance to collect his zenzez, he took stock on the glacial storm drifting towards him.



Icy debris was bludgeoning along his trajectory, coming of the icy rings that encircled the planet towards which he was heading.
Whether he would get through the storm or not was not part of the question.
He thought of momentum—direction—fitness for braving forth.



Upon turning up his palms, dark ribbons of scaly iridescence sinuously arose and bloomed.
Serpents hissed on the obstacles en route then slashed from his touch to rush the sails.
Whipping the vessel up the wave, they launched it from the lip of the crest, slinging it into the thick of the storm and for the rings beyond.

∞∝∞