The Lost Blogs Read online

  From: http://www.jamesdean.com

  From: http://www.billyshakespeare.org/blog/

  Subject: Art Thou a Critic?

  Having finished my latest opus entitled Romeo and Juliet (which you can read here, or watch unfold in moving ASCII animation), and finding pleasure in the creation of such, I was perplex’d upon receiving a note from her Majesty the Queen a fortnight ago. Her opinion (which is highly regarded, if not due to the fact that her fortunes helped assist my literary creations) seems to be that star-crossed lovers Romeo and Juliet should never have left their earthly bodies behind.

  “It’s depressing,” the Queen said. “Death is saddening and depressing and has no part in a public forum.” Death be not sad? Death hath no place alongside depression? Death is sad. It is depressing. It is public. Nevertheless, the Queen continued…

  Whilest her suggestion to bring back my beloved Capulet and Montague from wherest forth they rest causes my blood to boil—however, if I ever want to work in this kingdom again, I must prepare myself creatively for compromises of the word. And so, without further adieu I give you the second chapters in the continuing tragedy of my beloved characters…

  Romeo and Juliet Are Alive!

  A fortnight after the deaths of Romeo and Juliet, the kingdom is overcome with sadness. Their bodies, frail, lay side by side when a mysteriously shrouded figure sprinkles magic upon their lifeless souls. Their bodies dance, their eyes open wide, and the Capulet and Montague have returned, both alive! Yet now, they hunger for human flesh and traipse through the countryside like confused, lumbering fools! They are quick to bring destruction upon both their houses, but in a funny way. Comedy, dear Queen, ensues.

  Romeo and Juliet: Curtain Call,

  With the night muffled, and day’s light peeking through the clouds—a shrouded Romeo and Juliet awaken. Those who surround, surprised at a development such as this. For how could two star-crossed lovers who fell ill from drinking poison—how would life breathe anew into their lungs? A hidden joke, cry the lovers! Soon, all who surround are let in on the drama that has been perpetrated upon them as a curtain reveals the audience. Everything, including their deaths, acted out for others’ amusement! The lovers surprise their audience again by revealing they are not who they seem! Romeo as Juliet, and Juliet as Romeo—they exchange their clothing for the ultimate reveal!

  Romeo and Juliet Are Ghosts!

  Having tragically lost their lives and looking for revenge, Romeo and Juliet are ghosts who haunt the Capulet and Montague estates, mysteriously forcing heavy jeweled objects onto the floor and causing terror throughout. Such terror, causing the deaths and suicides of both entire families, will be watched by the all-seeing eyes of Romeo and Juliet, who will giggle with laughter as revenge has finally befallen those who forced their own hand. Family comedy/inspirational drama.

  I also find my thoughts turning toward a comedy about two princes who misplace their horse and carriage and spend the entire comedy attempting to relocate it, but this is (as I have said) a very rough idea.

  From: http://www.jimmorrison.com/blog.html

  Subject: New Words for the Doors

  Been workin’ on a new song tentatively called “Light the Fire” that was inspired by a moment where I had to, um, light a fire. Would love to hear from the fans before we put poetry to paper. Still working out the kinks, so to speak. Communicate at [email protected]. Grooooovy!

  In the meantime, while you’re doing that… check me out—I’m naked on the Doors unofficial 24-Hour Webcam.

  —

  Light the Fire

  You know I’ve opened up the flume,

  And thrown inside a rubber tire

  So can you please just follow through?

  And finally, please, just start the fire?

  Come on baby, light the fire

  Come on baby, light the fire

  But please don’t light the house on fire

  The time to hesitate is through

  You may as well follow me, your Sire

  Pick up a match before I snooze

  Falling asleep to the Vienna Boys Choir

  Come on baby, light the fire

  Come on baby, light the fire

  But please don’t light the house on fire

  The logs and newspapers are new

  That smell will be the burning tire

  I’ll slip off all my clothes and shoes

  If you’ll just start to light this fire

  Come on baby, light the fire

  Come on baby, light the fire

  It appears as if you’ve lit the house on fire

  You know that I will probably sue

  You know that I’ll call you a liar

  All I’ll say is, “Baby, shoo”

  This damage is all from your damn fire

  Come on baby, light the fire

  Come on baby, light the fire

  Yes, you started one big fire

  Yes, you started one big fire

  Yes, the situation’s dire

  Yes, you started one big fire

  —

  Really, I’m feeling it. Poetic, isn’t it? Thoughts are welcome!

  From: http://www.jacksonpollock.org/~blog/

  Subject: No Milk

  I woke up this morning and I quickly ran downstairs because I was thirsty and when I’m thirsty you know I’ve gotta have something to drink so did I mention I ran downstairs, not really running but sort of walking with a skip which is a half run, but kind of a walk and I got myself down to the kitchen where my wife Lee was already sitting at the kitchen table eating some toast which I by the way am really a fan of and also drinking a great big glass of milk. Well, you can imagine when I asked Lee where the rest of the milk was she just looked at me with this look on her face, the kind of look that the cat who has just eaten the mouse or some big piece of food that fell on the floor below the kitchen table (which has happened before believe it or not) because Lee had accidentally but on purpose finished all of the milk without thinking that I would like to come downstairs after a late night of painting and have a drink of milk myself well you can imagine her response to me turning the kitchen table on its back and causing the milk and the flowers and her books to fall all over the place and to tell you the truth I was glad that I did it because if I can’t have milk then she can’t have milk and it sort of ends up being an equal situation for two people like us who are out of milk.

  I think I just heard Lee get in the car to go get more milk.

  Just what kind of milk she’s going to get well I told her the kind that she should get and while she was at it I suggested her possibly getting a loaf of bread because what we have sitting on our kitchen counter is at least two weeks old and it’s just not that often that we leave the property to fill the kitchen with the items that we so desperately need yet I find it ironic that although we need such items desperately that we instead choose to starve ourselves and fill our bellies with the likes of vodka and rum and scotch instead which I’m not fully complaining about but which I find ironic as I previous mentioned.

  I’m feeling a tad tired today mixed with a little bit of fatigue which really I can’t quite figure out why a feeling like that is overwhelming me…

  Sure it may have something to do with being up all night working on my latest painting which if you’re curious which some of you have been which has come my way as a result of many e-mails all asking what I’m working on well let me tell you that this latest piece has red and black and blue and white and orange and a gray color and some white/black areas and something that looks a little bit like a banana after its been sitting on a street fora few days and a bunch of other mixtures of the previous colors into splashes and stripes and little dots and some bigger dots and some halfway in the middle dots which is the kind of dots that most painters don’t employ cause who wants to use a medium dot when you can go really small or really huge and a collection of other colors which I don’t want to reveal at the moment for fear of giving away
exactly what it looks like.

  More later, when I have more energy.

  From: http://www.alexanderthegreat.com

  Subject: The Greatest Blog in the History of Blogs!

  This is the greatest blog ever.

  I have seen other blogs and I must be honest in telling you all that this blog would crush all other blogs if they were given weapons and set against each other in a blog-like coliseum of sorts. In fact, if this blog was unarmed and was put face-to-face in a battle with other blogs that were all given some kind of heavy weapon, this blog would still destroy all other blogs.

  That’s a pretty great blog (one that can destroy other armed blogs with its bare hands) if you ask me which you probably are asking at this very moment, which is why I’ve answered. Because had I not answered, well, this blog would not be as great as we all know it is.

  It’s not that I have any ill will to heap upon other blogs…

  No, yes I do.

  I loathe all other blogs because they cannot ascend to the greatness that the great Alexander the Great Official Blog has reached. They may only wish to become a great blog as this one has become, and let good enough alone. This blog is the ultimate of all blogs and any blog that challenges this blog will find their text destroyed in a pile of… text. Er, or bloody something … in a blog kind of way.

  As this blog is the greatest blog in the world, I have established a variety of other great services for you, the great readers of the greatest blog in the world. They include (links are below):

  The Greatest Blog’s Greatest Forum in the World

  The Greatest Blog’s Greatest Picture Gallery in the World

  The Greatest Blog’s Greatest Links in the World

  The Greatest Blog’s Greatest Background Theme Music in the World

  The Greatest Blog’s Greatest Classic Posts About Being So Great

  Pictures of Me. Alexander the Great

  A Link to the Greatest E-mail Address in the World

  Thank you, again, for visiting the greatest blog in the world. (Although, really, I shouldn’t be thanking you, but you should be thanking me for the great experience you are currently taking part in.)

  One last note: To [email protected] who wrote, “Your blogeth sucketh, all you do is talk about yourselfeth!” I would like to officially declare war on ehrudt’s family and household, which I will destroy upon finding out just where ehrudt lives.

  From: http://www.blogs.com/rodserling/

  Subject: Nightmare at 20,000 Feet

  It’s been some time since I’ve written here on the blog, as I’ve been inundated with Requiem for a Heavyweight, which you’ve all sent wonderful e-mails to me about. Thank you for the kind words, it was an amazing experience as you can very well imagine.

  But I didn’t plan on using this space to talk about working with Jack Palance or the problematic nature of live TV. Instead, something curious happened to me on my flight back home, of which I’d like to share.

  I was sitting in the business class section of the airplane, wedged in between a nice old woman and a window. It was, unfortunately, a stormy night, and the plane was being pushed and pulled in a variety of directions. My neighbor, a woman of about sixty-five, was none too pleased with the turbulence but found her salvation in a pair of very strong drinks which quickly removed the worry from her face. Soon after, she was three sheets to the wind and off in her own world of slumber.

  As for me, sitting in the darkness of the cabin, my eyes turned toward the window next to me. Looking out into the night sky on such a rainy night, there was little to see. It struck me deep inside, the idea that anything could be out there. And then, it happened…

  “That will be one-fifty,” a woman’s voice said.

  I turned, and you can imagine my surprise when I saw the stewardess, with her outstretched palm, asking for money.

  “But I didn’t order a drink,” I told her.

  “It was right there,” she demanded. “I saw it right there on your tray.”

  Yet there was no drink there. I had not seen a drink. A bottle. Nothing. Yet she insisted she had seen it with such determination, it was scary.

  “I saw nothing,” I told her. “And I didn’t order a thing.”

  Then my neighbor was awakened by the discussion and she, too, weighed in on the situation. She chimed in that she had seen it as well. Before long, it became an eerie conversation about whether I had seen it, if it had mysteriously appeared then disappeared, and whether I was insane. The stewardess, on the other hand, was getting extremely volatile.

  “So, you’re telling me I’m crazy,” she ranted. “That I’m seeing things?”

  “No, not crazy,” I told her. “Maybe just a little bit fatigued? Overworked?”

  You could see the beads of sweat rolling down her face as she struggled with the thought.

  After another fifteen minutes of arguing and a few additional stewardesses joining in on the mystery of the phantom vodka bottle, I gave in and paid the money. My sleep was worth much more than such a strange and eerie argument.

  And as I drifted off to sleep, 20,000 feet above the ground, I turned my mind to what my next writing or producing project might be. But honestly, the events that had just transpired had sucked the creative juices out of me. My mind was a blank …

  When I get back home, maybe then an idea will hit me.

  From: http://www.jimmyKblog.com/ *

  Subject: The Latest

  I believe it has been some time since I’ve updated my blog. As you can imagine, things have been awfully busy down at my job where I have been working extremely long and arduous hours.

  I have, however, continued to receive a wide array of e-mails from a wide array of attractive young women who have been so kind to have included high-glossy pictures of themselves in their native locales. To answer all your questions—no, I cannot answer each and every one of your letters and so instead I would like to direct you to my FallinLove.com Profile. For those who do not have access to FallinLove.com, you can read my personal profile below (although I strongly encourage all you ladies to sign up for FallinLove.com so we may exchange confidential correspondence):

  “I am a dedicated man with strong beliefs, but not so strong that we can’t become close friends. I like long walks in the rain, or along the beach, as long as it’s just you and me. I’m not into sharing and I especially don’t like to be the third wheel—if we’re going to hang out it’s got to be just you and me. Confidentially, I don’t like cameras or digital photography but I do like pictures of you. You’re beautiful. You love being with a man like me, who can crush large countries at will—at least, metaphorically it feels that way. Although I love to travel, I would never ever willingly go to places like Russia or Cuba. I believe in true democracy and honesty, as long as it won’t get anyone in trouble. I enjoy pets, children and believe in commitment, although I may not be currently ready to settle down. Above all, you want to be with me no matter what time it may be (like, in the middle of the night) or where it might be (like, in a flea bag of a motel… haha)—it’s about spending time with each other, no matter the laws that I enforce. My job is important, of course, but not more important than spending time with you. E-mail [email protected] if you’re interested.”

  Please, continue to send your pictures if you’re interested in being with a guy whose influence cannot be matched in all of the free world and who would gladly rescue you from a sinking U-boat (figuratively, of course)! Okay, that was just a line, but you know what I mean.

  Sorry about not having any pictures available of myself just yet—still trying to figure out how to upload to the site. Computers can be so confusing!

  Best-

  JimmyK!

  From: http://www.washington.com/~george/

  Subject: My Birthday!

  Of all the presents I could have possibly hoped for, my father and mother were nice enough to have given me just what I have been dreaming of.

  An axe. A brand-new,
shiny axe.

  Well, of course I am quite sure you would have done the very same thing I did, had your mother and father presented you with a brand-new axe. That being, of course, to sharpen the edge and prepare one’s self for a test of the hardware. And I did just that.

  After sharpening the axe back in the stable, I hiked up behind the farm where I found myself face-to-face with one of the larger fruit trees on my family’s plantation. It was quite large, yet so was the blade of the axe… You can imagine my excitement as I let my strength transfer to the axe’s blade.

  I chopped and I chopped and I chopped. Quite stunned, I was, watching just how little the axe affected the trunk of the tree. But I labored on, eventually reaching the halfway mark and causing the huge fruit tree to waver. A few more hits and the tree made a deafening sound as it crashed to the ground.

  My father was none too pleased as he rushed alongside me, surveying the damage.

  Yet my father is a good soul—one with a knowledge of many things, and he turned to me, looking at my hands (which still grasped the axe) and down at the tree and back up at my eyes, and told me that the tree which had fallen at my hands was now close to death. And the fruits it bared, cherries to be exact, would have to be used immediately. “In a pie,” said my father. “And you will have to help eat them.”

  Well, my father was not aware but I had just been served an enormous meal mere hours prior, and my belly was filled to the brim.

  Having just chopped down my beloved father’s cherry tree in a selfish act of self-satisfaction, I was saddened but still unable to heed his request and so I turned to my father and said to him, “Father, I cannot eat a pie.”

  His brow turned downward in the way it usually turned when he was none too pleased with my thoughtless actions. He reminded me that since I had caused the tree to fall, I would have to help in consuming the fruits of my labor.