Imagine if you will; A town, suspicious in its calumnity, isolated from the teaming society of Long Island's Golden Coast by its eccentric townsmanship, and a really cool drawbridge that makes the sound of a jet taking off when your tires drive over the grid. HAHA, DRIVE OVER THE BRIDGE AGAIN, MOM! Ah hem... Anyway... 'Calumnious?' you ask. 'How so?' Well, for one thing, I don't think you know what the word Calumnious means. And for another thing...I don't know what the word means either. In fact, I think you made it up in a vain attempt to be verbose. But that's ok, I did the same thing with the word 'Calumnity.' You should be more concerned that you are talking to my 'About Me' page. But honestly, maybe it's my own fault and either way, I shouldn't be calumniating you right now. I'm gonna start over.
Imagine if you will;
A town, isolated from the teaming society of Long Island's trendy Oyster Bay crowd, by a cooky little town mentality and some outlandish drawbridge designing. And on a busy street in this very town, on the corner of a street named after some dead guy is a creepy old Victorian style dwelling. You enter this humble abode, and after climbing a full blown three floors of chaos you reach the top floor with well winded lungs. To satisfy your obscene curiosity and awful penchant for trespassing, you open the only door that is closed in this madhouse of couch scratching blackcats and maniacal eyeball attacking furniture to see...
A tidy little room with a line of old guitars, both electric and acoustic lined against one wall, and an old 24 track against another. A gentlemanly youth of say 22 years of age rocks back and forth in a rocking chair with a cup of tea in his hands, taking sips of the tepid tea water with a rhythm that matches that of his rocking chair. He waits for your eyes to connect with his...You laugh heartily at the merriment in his eyes...and then the pink and green afghan slides of his rocking lap...and your eyes travel down to the flicker of movement as his finger pulls the trigger...on a sawed off street sweeper filled with rock salt... A firecracker of pain explodes in your stomach, and you end up spending the next 12 hours handcuffed to a rocking chair listening to obscure Long Island hardcore bands and watching obscure Japanese gore flicks, while the young man reads you excerpts from Philip K. Dick's Shifting Parrelelities, and then lets you go home after you change into a pair of sweatshorts with his bandname magicmarkered over the ass. You see I knew you were coming over and while I distracted you with made up words stemming from the Latin root word Calumnia, I cleaned my room up and thought up a nifty first impression that gave you the image I thought you should have of me.
But say I hadn't known you were coming over. Would you really like to know the real me? Really? You would? Wow, no one's ever shown that kind of interest in me. Well...I guess if you would have opened the door to that very same room, a couple of hours earlier, you would have found a messy room, with no light let in. A youth of say 22 years of age would have been sitting in the middle of the floor with a weird buzzing machine connected by a tube to a mask that rested on his face, blowing bitter medicinal smoke down into his wheezing, heaving chest. He would look over at the door with the type of hope you only see on Golden Retreivers' faces, and upon seeing that an actual human being had entered his dwelling, and one not made in his imagination factory, he would jump up and run...he would clutch your ankles...he would beg you to stay for some tea...he loves tea...he would ask if you wanted to listen to some bands he thinks you'll like...and watch some amazing movies that he thinks really describe the societal relationships between men and their chainsaws very well...and he'd also like to read you some of his favorite author who he thinks he is the reincarnated version of...just look at the death and birthdates...Look upon him well my friend, he may be verbose and full of calumny, but he is I. Travis of the Bayvillites. He also likes to hang out at Dunkin' Donuts and/or Breakers.
