Thursday, November 29, 2018

Made In Heaven Copyrighted On Earth



Head injuries. Almost Heaven. West Virginia.
The door was opened to our first music class on a beautiful morning.

We were told to pick any instrument on a long table.

No guitar in sight, so I ran happily to a golden trumpet.

Mary Had A Little Lamb was the first tune we learned to play.

Mural For Ourselves In The South Bronx Of Admerica

By Danny Aponte, 6th Grader at Public School 161

All Human Rights Reserved 2018 to Infinity

On Word 98, I wondered how to begin on stories being left behind in the last century.

Once Upon A Time never goes out of style in a small library of near infinite dimensions where the boy I was discovered A Winkle In Time. He wanted to time travel anywhere.

No automatic alt text available.Locked up in a small apartment in The South Bronx, he peeled back layers of carpet to a time when people used newspapers to line wooden floors. The dates on the papers were 1938. He kept peeling papers until it seemed he had fallen through a hole in night skies filled with the sound of Swing Music. It was, to say the least, just another ho hum day in the extraordinary adventures of an imaginative little boy.

1998 HAPPY NEW YEAR quickly soured. “We don’t publish stories about minorities,” baked and snarled a woman over the phone in a brand name publishing house in NYC.

I imagined my American Dream outsourced to England where a woman with a baby asked me what I was working on. She sat a little closer to me on a bench in front of The Thames River when I told her my story is about a boy who is a wizard taken to a school for wizards. I passed out from a rock she used to bash me head bloody. 

Well, I have go. I have to get a copyright

Oh. There it is.

Copyrighted 2018 by DAAD LLC

All Rights Reserved

Saturday, November 24, 2018

Free Promos





                                              I Lost My Marbles Comic Books

                                                               Presents

                                 Baked Alaska: The Lighter Side Of Solar Flares

                                                           Produced By

                                      Hobo With A Library Card: The Movie

        Written & Directed By A Brain Damaged Puerto Rican From The South Bronx
                                 Who Dreams Of Getting Revenge By Living Well

                                                   “And The Oscar goes to…”

To whom it may concern a thousand years in the future.

I met a girl from another world far from the city of the world.

The moment I saw her walk into a West Village supermarket I saw an aura around her that made me feel I’ve met her in another life. She was lead by the hand by a strange little girl dressed in a petticoat and blue bonnet as if she came to life from a package of margarine.  It was a brutal cold that gripped New Yorkers in the season I arrived on Earth. It gave way the next day to spring when I carried flowers among Villagers and the rest of the state suffering wonderfully from cabin fever. People crowded streets in their shorts, walking dogs, riding skateboards and playing guitars in Washington Square Park.

Why I Hate My Life In The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

I lost memories after punches to the back of my head at the university. The cowardly attack was my first encounter with a Neo Nazi who was a mediocre painter.

I woke up a roaring train car devoid of life except for a man in a black hood who sat opposite me. It felt like rigor mortis had set in when I tried to move my fingers.

The man looked up with cat yellow eyes and asked wistfully if I had missed my stop.

I broke free to pry the doors open as the train went deeper under a dark river.

Years later, I dreamed of being naked under a tree in front of rolling field of golden wheat while wedding bells rang in the distance. I woke up to reach for a landline phone. A voice said to turn on the TV. The date of that morning was 9/11. It was the birthday of the woman whom with I experienced unselfish love that made me see magic in life.

She had never experienced snow. I promised her a benevolent storm as went down into the subway. We came out to a near white out over Queens and the rest of the city.

We played like children until we fell together on virgin snow.

I thought about her from my dorm room at NYU.

I woke up to an intense light on Sunday. The city was buried under a blizzard on February 14. I walked past sanitation trucks plowing snow into mountains. I fell in love with computers at the lab and wanted to switch from art to algorithms.

Then I received a letter from her. She was crazy in love with me and wanted us to marry.

Enter The Dorm Nazi. 

So much data flooded my damaged brain all I can think of was what is the point to remember what I have lost in The City Of Rainbow Racism. She summoned forth the better angel of my nature. Without her, I saw the loss of true love is replaced by terror.

And there is so much terror across the nations of Earth.

Got hero?





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