Art Exhibition: 8 - The Computerized Faces

Picture.

Picture.

Picture.

I made it out of pixels.

And when it's...

Nevermind.

This is Rita.

I made pictures on Rita.

This is a face.

This is also a face.

- J. A. Kind

Gerard The Frenchie

Gerard has an Instagram account.

The account is @gerardthefrenchie

- J. A. Kind

Ready or Not, Here I [explicit]

     The morning Adeline asked to play hide and seek, her father cracked a smile. 

When the foremost of sun’s beams etched out a path in the sky, subsequently penetrating the off-white cloth curtains of the room of the child, Adeline awoke.  Her face painted a contorted grin of a labored collection of sun kissed memories, not yet manifested, as the worn droplets of light sprinkled over the curved cheeks and forehead, dribbling like the spit of a predator with hind legs in states of tension and leading nails in a battle for territory.  As one foot descended from bed to ground, Adeline, still moist from the sweat of sleep, gabbled silently with thrill.  For today she would skin the hind of childhood, as both predator and prey ascended from juvenile mockery, and the games commenced. 

So, young Adeline, still in her nightgown, began her quest across the lonely home.  She skipped out of her room, fluttering like the dust that exposed itself to light, and knocked on her parent’s chipped door.  Adeline babbled, “Papa, wake up, wake up.  It is five five!  Five five!  Five five!”  Her father, already having awoken and dressed, stood still on the other side of the door.  He pressed his pelvis firmly into the stained wood and smiled. 

The motive for such actions arose from the halls of history.  In the paternal family’s undocumented records, a series of events became traditional.  Every immediate family, from the time of the crossing of The Pond, bred one, peculiar child.  This child, once attaining the certain 5/5, would participate in a single round of hide and seek with their sexually opposed guardian.  The certain 5/5 is unique for individual members.  However, predominately, the age stands too high to search for monsters under the bed, appropriate to fear them, and too small to obtain the understanding that those very monsters lurk within the very owner of the age.  Having had his daughter finally reach the mark, the father was excited.  For today he would skin the hind of childhood, as both predator and prey ascended from juvenile mockery, and the games commenced.

Hide and seek dominated the recreational realm of the childhood his body once experienced.  Darkness and claustrophobia strangled the trachea – he appreciated the tormented grip.  For the father’s own progenitors, had lingered in kindness far too long.  As a celibate, the younger skin of his own craved a fall.  The game, ready or not.  The plummet of the lungs and stomach at the sound of “come” shook his corporeal being to the core.  Comical, is it not, that the reverberation of the collection of waves resembling the same word caught as a child, excite him to this day?  “Run,” the voices would yelp.  “Ascend one knee after another, as sweat condenses on the forehead, and vestal lips sputter in the wind.”  No pureblooded amalgamation of live atoms could hide in the game for long – limbs, without fail, crave the demand of application.  Appendages, games – thirst.

            The father partook in a game of his own nature.  The maternal clan decreed, “Children play games.”  He whispered through the worn opening, “I play back.”

            “What did you say, Papa?” whispered Adeline.  Her father avoided response, removed his enlarged pelvic region from the chipped barricade, and opened the door.  He picked up his daughter, and kissed her on the neck.  Subsequently, he murmured into his daughter’s hearing hole, “Go hide.”

            Adeline returned to the floor with the aid of her father’s tightly gripped hands, and ran off.  Her hair bobbled as she ascended one knee after another, as sweat condescended on her forehead, and vestal lips sputtered in the wind.  She knew exactly where to hide.  She had analyzed this moment in her mind for weeks. 

            As his daughter excitedly raced off into hiding, the father lay on his bed.  His body remained over the cream colored covers, but his right arm slid under the numb body of his wife.  She was cold.  A tarnished type of frost coated the female member – a description best fit as impure.  An exact time has not been pinpointed, but at some instance, she had smudged herself, unknowingly.  She knew not the cause for the smudge, and in response, withdrew herself from interaction.  Her husband became cold.  A hard and warm type of ice coated the male member.  He stiffened with disgust, nonetheless, the remembrance of the previous night made him smile.  He recollected the sullying of the eyelashes of his wife and the consequent plucking of the very hairs from her seeing holes’ scalps.  Only the lashes on all five ends remained.  Once his wife fell into slumber, the man licked her lids and pasted the fibers of keratin onto her forehead.  Eventually, the man retracted his arm out from underneath the wife, and began his quest across the lonely home. 

            He exited the threshold.

            Once out in the hall, a small object of matter caught the father’s greasy eye.  An outlined flower of reddened, translucent petals laid dormant on the knotted wood plank.  The father wandered closer, descended to his knees, and halted.  The object was no such flower.  The nails of a child had been arranged in the shape of a natural figment of nature.  The nails had slightly yellowed, rusting into a more opaque form, while blood splattered their surface and stained their shape.  Each nail had a minuscule hole. 

            At the site of such atrocity, the father panicked.  He called out for his daughter’s name and began on a direct route to the child’s room.  Pure, he thought.  Pure.  He reached the threshold, and cleared the barricade. 

            In front of her bed lay young Adeline.  Her body was wrapped in off-white curtains.  The father calmed.  The man undid the bondage.  He smiled.  It was time.  Once unwrapped, the father lifted his daughter’s limp arm.  The hand had been mutilated.  Each of the five fingers had experienced molestation – nail was missing and a thin scrape, starting from the center of what would have been the area dedicated to the nail, extended outward.  The skin of the scrape appeared chewed.  Blood clotted in the cavern and oozed out from the crevice-like cave of the missing protective piece.  The pinky was altogether absent.

            The father cradled the hand of his daughter, using more than just his own gripper.  For him, appendages liked to be applied.  He thereafter, continued with the unraveling of the child. 

            Immediately, his lungs and stomach plummeted as his body shook to the core.  Plastered all over his shaved daughter were miniscule hairs.  The same plastering he had used on his wife, drenched his daughter.  The man grabbed his groin with shock.  Each hair, no longer than half a centi-meter, hugged his daughter.  They enveloped every fold and crease.  Penetrated all openings, and laid on all five limbs. 

            The father shook.  His hands began shaking.  His teeth began chattering.  The enamel in his whites lashed against one another, developing foam, as the tongue intertwined with the jaw, and the fingers abused the uvula.  His feet began feeling uncontrollably hot.  He pushed them into his daughter’s stomach.  He began feeling the half centi-meter hairs dance in-between his toes.  He began biting his lip.  He began biting his lip so hard.  He began biting his lip so hard it bled.  He began biting his lip so hard it bled.  He began biting his lip so hard it bled.  He began biting his lip so hard it bled.

            He began to touch his groin.  He unbuckled his pants.  Discharge.  He was bleeding.  But the blood was pink.  He grabbed his member an

d laid down next to his daughter.  He desperately belted, “ You were the one.  The one.  My daughter, you were the one.  The pure.  Purity.  I had found purity.  Hide and seek.  You hid, and I sought.  I found your purity.   I would discover your purity.  Invent it.  You were pure.  Pure.  Pure.  Pure.  Pure.  Pure.  I would break that.  I would devour it.  For you were my predator and I was your prey.  We were hide and seek.”

            As her husband lay next to the child covered in the off-white cloth, the wife grinned.  She stood tall and erect in the threshold, draped in her nudity and the eyelashes of her own.  She breathed in the scent of the room, so powerfully, her stomach contracted.  Through the paled and contracted skin of her own, a finger depicted its indentation in the area of her stomach. 

            The morning Adeline asked to play hide and seek, her father cracked a smile.

          - J. A. Kind

Art Exhibition: 7 - Face

This is a face.  I drew it.  I can make more.

     - J. A. Kind

Madmen and Quakers

I am a free Donald Draper - no, that statement bathes in contradiction.  Nonetheless, I, the unpaid advertiser, shower the scanners of the cyberspace with knowledge of my coming attraction.  Features of my work will be exhibited on a site quite like this.  

Said site belongs to my educational campus.

Said site owns a link.

Said site's link.

      - J. A. Kind

Excerpt: 1 - Untitled

Excerpt from a piece of boredom and desperation.  Beware the breeding of cusses.

Was the sky as blue as it is now when the dinosaurs roamed the Earth?  Did their scale-scarred eyes and fear induced insomnia witness the brights of blues and the serenity of an explosive, unexplainable sunset?  Stop – I sound like such a jackass for asking this, but come on, it’s an honest question.  I know the reason it’s blue and shit is because of all the light and elemental chemicals in the sky and how it curves or whatever; but really, was it the same color?  As I walk down the path to Mr. Gleason’s apartment I realize that I have two hypotheses, I think that’s the right word – I sleep in biology, or at least I try to.  The first h word is that nowadays there is more goddamn shit in the air like smog and crap from China, like so that we wouldn’t be able to see all of the bright colors as clearly as dinosaurs did.  Wait, could dinosaurs even see colors? I hate bright colors by the way.  I mean calm the fuck down.  You have no right to get all up in my grill.  I don’t know, I guess I don’t like it when people get too close.  But I mean, back the fuck off.  Jack Daniels always has it in just the right balance that way.  He has his friends and his boys, but they’re all not too close.  He is still shrouded in that mystery.  I mean, he’s still a jackass, such an annoying prick, trying to act all cool and shit, but in the end he’s got it.  One day, Jack and I were partners in Latin.  I fucking hate that class.  It’s a dead language, you know.  Why even teach it if it’s gone?  I get about the dinosaurs and how that relates, they actually lived, but dead things that never really existed like Latin, I just have no appreciation.  Why appreciate - anyways, dead things cannot come back to life, at least I think.  There I go again, the world energies and fuck, getting all spiritual and shit.  I don’t really know what my religion is, some people are like no, once you’re gone, you’re just a bag of bones.  My parents, I think, believe in Heaven and Hell.  Bunch of liars and jackasses, I tell you.  They all try and act all perfect and never commit sins, but we all know they’re fucking it and themselves up in the shadows.  Religion, the climactic source of all energy.   People should be allowed to choose.  Oh, and don’t get me started with those shit eaters, you know, those kids that are strange as fuck and believe in the reincarnation stuff.  They’re all high as shit.  Honestly, I wouldn't know though - I mean, I’ve never smoked; I tell people I have, but I always pussy out before I get the chance.  I just worry too much that I’ll do something stupid and people will see me.  People don’t get second chances anymore.  You have your fate and you can’t change it.  Well, I mean, I don’t know.  I think that fate is either fate like it is what it is, even when you think that you are changing it, fate already knows that you were about to do that and has all your mistakes planned out and all your decisions made - or its the other, darker one.  Honestly, I like the first a lot more than the one that lurks in the back of my mind.  It has been eating away at my brain for the past couple days.  I know, its pretty lame, but its true – I’m an honest guy, really.  Maybe, you can change your fate.  Like work hard enough and then boom, its different.  But then that would mean the rest of your life would be different.  That’s not the thing that bothers me though.  The fucking weird as shit shit that freaks me the fuck out, is that the two would both be the same fucking fate.  You kill Bill in one, and he still dies in the other.  Either way, you’re fucked.  And you know, I can’t get a fucking minute to think about anything anymore.  But it’s not the people around me and my room, which is always loud from the echoes and reverberations of the “neighbors” that keep me up at night.  It’s inside me.  I can’t fucking focus.  I used to be so good at memorization.  Back when we were little, my sister and I would battle each other in memory games, the states, the capitals, shit like that.  Now, and ever since we both got fucked up, I cant.  Obviously she still can.  Three years younger and three grades above.  Not really, but she might as well be.  Either way I got the short end of the long stick, I think that’s the expression.  I’m not short, trust me, I’m tall, probably about five eleven now.  Short people got it rough though; I mean you can’t even try to change that.  Your fate is fixed.  They can smoke a joint or take some meds and get cancer or shit like that, but they’re still going to be fucking short as fuck.  Little fuckers, I mean they all try and act cool like they got all their shit together, but you know it, you can see it in their eyes. Haha, Ruby was pretty tiny, but it’s different with girls, you know.  It’s cute.  The small girls always have the walk, you know. With the little Converses or whatever, and the tight jeans. "Walkers."

I had a dream.  Not one where I was asleep but one of the ones that blocks my vision and blurs my mind.  It was a memory that my intellect formed from the dust that had fucking collected in the wasteland that is my skull.  Deep, I know.  Sometimes it shows and cracks its way through.  I fucking try and hide that shit.  I actually tried to act stupid around Ruby - told her I smoked, partied, played three varsity sports, you know, "Jack Danieled."  I even made her believe I had an alcoholism problem, all through text and crap.  I don’t know – she was just so beautiful.  Her hair, I don’t know what its called, but it was all like choppy and stuff, but still looked so soft, like a little store shop teddy bear.  Fuck, what the hell.  Anyways, I was at the beach, no it was more like a cliff.  Wish I was there now - but instead I have to tell Gleason that my fucking clock is up with the shop.  A bunch of bullshit, if you ask me.  Anyways, the cliffs - the stone was rocky, rough to the touch, yet calm enough to have crests that mimicked the arches of the waves that served as skilled sets of accompaniment to the underwater organisms.  Lucky bastards - always swimming around, hidden by the thick, moist blanket of their home.  Ha - Ruby hates the word moist.  I'd tell her to calm down, its just a word, but scaring walkers never ends up right.  Fuck - what even is right.

     - J. A. Kind

Art Exhibition: 6 - Five Fingered Discount

rain    rain    go    away    droplets    say    five    fingered    way



      - a writer and J. A. Kind

The Northerners' Declaration of an Appropriate Amount of Codependency

It is strangely comfortable how safely and spontaneously my back melts into the mix of brick and backpack that function as the pit stop for the specific realm on campus.  All around me people, of all shapes, sizes, ages, ethnicities, etc., wiz by, but I remain at the pit stop – refueling – sometimes with friend, oftimes alone, as the day turns to after light and the academics morph into athletics.  I sit and I rest.  Some would find it uncomfortable, almost strange and meticulously attention grabbing, however here, and when I say here, I mean campus, it is normal – accepted of the sort, if I may.  So I lay, under the bush of no blueberries, to the north of Retford.  I wait, I know not of the event I place myself there for, but I know that its arrival is soon to come.  It brings me joy, just to ponder, to think and push down the pedals of my mind, knowing that body will remain in rest as soul effects change in the pit stop. 

I lay to the north of Retford.

The basics would call it “my favorite spot.”  But we are not basics – we are the northerners – pardon me, The Northerners, The Northerners of Retford, Land of the mathematic majority, and painting and drawing minority.  Though, thou mustn’t forget the small tribe of video conjurers.  Oh yes, we must not forget those.  We must remember as we rest in our spot.  We must retain the memory.  We must expedite the urge of refusal and decompose the endorsements of movement.  For here at campus, we are free.  The Northerners may seek seclusion, but they understand the tangible lack of animosity for their hinds.  They understand that as they lay under the bush to the north of Retford, they are not alone – a sea of other pit stops surrounds them and their own.  The Northerners beckon the flood. 

            - J. A. Kind

Art Exhibition: 5 - Tresses

By the touch of your sway, I feel the bob of the curl sweep down beneath your brow and gently kiss your crease of skin.  Your eye's same substance, reflecting the keratin of past bellows and future cries, seeps under the wave as a blow from the glass hollowed pitcher lifts the remains of a once potent crime.  I miss the way it fell and laughed.  I missed the curl of your hair.  

      - J. A. Kind

The Sun, The Moon, The Stars, And Christ

An essay on The Sun, The Moon, The Stars, by Junot Díaz.

In the beginning of most Catholic children’s lives, the Bible serves as a guide.  However, this Holy Scripture’s knowledge is not limited to religious followers; it also steers readers to question the sector of the mind pertaining to beliefs.  Beliefs, although varying among different humans, are the overarching principles to how a particular individual wants to live – what a particular individual wants to be and/or feel responsible for.  Once reading a portion of the Bible, an individual is opened to a world where Biblical information, symbolism, and anecdotes can effect and depict daily life.  In the short story, “The Sun, The Moon, The Stars,” by Junot Díaz, religious allusions are used to symbolically question the borders of responsibility, and lack there of, that the protagonist, Yunior, upkeeps.  These aspects of the Catholic Faith are alluded to in the story through the names of the main characters, Yunior and Magda, through their linguistically symbolic relationships to light, and through Yunior’s final experience on the island.  These instances bolster Díaz’s correlation between religion and its effect on the subconscious.  “The Sun, The Moon, The Stars” is an archetypal story in which Biblical history mythically repeats itself in an alternative fashion. 

In “The Sun, The Moon, The Stars,” it is not until later in the story that the protagonist’s name is mentioned.  The reason for this delay in identification, on Díaz’s part, is due to the author’s pity for the self deprecating, emotionally confused, character he created.  Throughout the story, it becomes evident that Yunior is self-conscious.  He defends a façade and combats his environments by using overly confident language that questions the validity of both his description of certain situations, and his own supposed self-assurance.  He cockily rambles, as seen on page two, when Yunior says, “Let me confess: I love coming home to the guys in Blazers trying to push little cups of Brugal into my hands.” (Díaz 2)  This sentence is the beginning of a paragraph that continues with Yunior describing in much detail, all about the Dominican Republic – a description, he could have told to get the reader’s sympathy and empathy.  Díaz also uses Yunior’s description to satirically show how “cool and awesome” Yunior is for knowing all of this.  The reader is unsure of whether or not these descriptions of the Dominican Republic are even accurate, however the reader will “have to take [his] word for it.” (Díaz 2)  It is with this deceptive language that Díaz creates for the reader, prompting questions pertaining to the validity of Yunior’s stories and responsibility.  The reader is made to feel unsure and uneasy about Yunior.  Thus, when Díaz finally introduces the name of his character of confusion, it is done so in a delayed, strategized, and merciful manner.  Yunior is introduced by his ex-girlfriend, Magda, as follows: “I’m bored Yu-nior.” (Díaz 2)  The name is said across two lines, thus needing a hyphen.  Not only did Díaz wait to identify his creation, but he also did so in the most fragile manner.  Yunior’s name possesses importance – it is the key to his confidence, as any name is.  Names hold value; and Díaz tried to protect the value of a character he was harshly exposing. 

The delay of the naming, in relation to the Christian Bible, could be seen as a symbolic christening or baptism conducted by Magda on her then boyfriend.  It appears to be no coincidence that later in the paragraph Yunior “drank fifteen bottles of water.” (Díaz 2)  When christenings occur, they are accomplished in order to give a member of the Christian Church a name that reveals a significant characteristic or trait.  Yunior’s name is directly Biblically symbolic.  In “Spanglish” (the linguistic mix of Yunior’s languages of literacy and identity) Yunior means Junior.  Junior is a name used to differentiate a son from a father who is called the same name as his breath and life giver.  In the Christian Bible, Jesus and God share this identification situation. Jesus is the translated English form of the same name in Greek, Iēsous.  Iēsous stems from the Hebrew name for Jesus, Yeshua; and, Yeshua is one of the many Hebrew names for God.  God and Jesus, from a linguistic perspective, have the same name.

Jesus and Yunior are sons and juniors.  Díaz uses this symbolic comparison to further exhibit Yunior’s personality and struggle with responsibility.  The Biblical foil, assumes a delicate, overarching, religious power that presents himself as a continuously supported allusion.  The sheer dichotomy between Yunior and his sins, and Jesus and his death for the sins of others, complicate the interaction between Yunior and his environment and the repetitive nature of life and history.  By using this foil, Díaz representatively illustrated a humane, troubled side to a revered Biblical character through another character who was indeed troubled.  Additionally, Díaz demonstrated the strange way history can repeat itself.  For although Jesus and Yunior battled differing adversities, their overall seeking of good was evident.  Yunior, even though quite troubled, tried to become a better person throughout the story.  This was demonstrated during his “revelation” in the cave.  Yunior’s subconscious was affected by his religion.  Díaz modernized his work by depicting Yunior as a Dominican Christian.  Overall, Díaz was able to show the effect of religion on an individual by implementing a religious and linguistic allusion on the individual he was showcasing. 

In addition to Yunior’s name representing Biblical and linguistic significance, the naming of Yunior’s girlfriend, Magda, is symbolic.  Unlike Yunior, Magda’s introduction was immediate.  At the beginning of the story, Yunior quickly introduced his ex-girlfriend and her disappointment for him when he said, “Magdalena disagrees.  She considers me a typical Dominican man: a sucio, an asshole.”  (Díaz 1)  Without name related analysis, the introduction of Magdalena, or rather Magda, her nickname, is significant due to its involvement with the Spanish language.  Magda’s description of Yunior as “a sucio” shows the importance of the shared, otro idioma.  Magda shapes Yunior’s life – by having her be involved and understand the same language Yunior speaks, Díaz was able to show the intense bond Magda and Yunior had that was not simply sexual and romantic.  Additionally, Díaz exhibited the augmentation of “Spanglish” phrases in Latin culture.  Instead of illustrating Magda and Yunior as perfect Spanish speakers, Díaz showed the two using Spanish nouns with English articles, thus symbolizing their imperfections.   These imperfections demonstrate the effects of subconscious misunderstandings and symbolically exhibit Yunior’s lack of responsibility. 

This exhibition of humanly imperfect behavior is vital to Díaz’s comparison of the characters in “The Sun, The Moon, The Stars” and their religious others.  Similar to Yunior’s foil-like relationship with Jesus, Magda carries a Biblically alluding connection.  Magdalena’s name stems from Magdalene, meaning “maiden.”  Most individuals who gift their children the name, or some variant of it, do so in tribute to the second most prominent, and often thought, important female in the New Testament, Mary Magdalene.  Magdalene was a follower of Jesus; she attended his crucifixion, and witnessed his Resurrection.  She was not a lover, but rather a friendly follower.  Supposedly, Jesus cast out seven demons from Magdalene who had been associated with the crime of adultery and other specific sexual sins.  In his story, Díaz mirrored the complex relationship that Magdalene and Jesus shared by using Magda and Yunior.  Unlike the Biblical pair, Magda and Yunior did indeed take part in a romantic relationship, which included premarital sex – a sin.  This is ironic in reference to the overarching Biblical allusion because of the type of demons Magdalene hosted. Magda and Magdalene’s comparison is fueled by sex.  Díaz used this sinful foil to complicate the confident, female character he created whose mission was to test and batter his other male creation who lacked responsibility and such confidence. Through the comparisons of Biblical persons and ordinary people, the usage of sacred allusions and linguistic symbols furthered the tension of sexual and romantic hardship by reinforcing a tale as old as time.  Díaz created another foil, furthering his exhibition of an archetypal story of Biblical proportions.

The story of The Fall, also known as the story of Adam and Eve, is arguably the most well-known and discussed narratives in the Bible.  The experiences of the Bible’s first two humans are filled with light and darkness.  This variation of light is symbolized in “The Sun, The Moon, The Stars.”  Light, in the short story, plays a central role in the governance of Yunior’s borders of responsibility.  Yunior is severely affected by actual light, its absence, and its metaphorical attributes.  Every action Yunior decides to make occurs in some form of light or darkness, however, in the story, certain forms of light are associated with certain actions.  During the daylight hours, when the sun traveled high in the sky, Yunior’s actions and behaviors, especially pertaining to his relationship with Magda, exposed themselves in a more clear and evident fashion than at night.  For example, once back on the island and under the sun, Yunior’s true emotions were shown.  Yunior expressed himself in the paragraph that begins with “The sun is blazing and the blue of the ocean is an overload on the brain.” (Díaz 3)  In the story, the sun shined and its beams of light broke and tore down the façade that Yunior had so desperately tried to construct; however, all the work of the sun was soon forgotten.  At night, Yunior relapsed.  His actions and emotions became muddled – hidden beneath the blanket of black.  Yunior would “loiter around” (Díaz 6) and notice dark aspects about potential lovers, such as the “dark stubbled spot in her armpit.” (Díaz 6)  During the time reigned by the moon and the stars, Yunior’s borders of responsibility vanished and his relationship with Magda crumbled.  Life experienced an archetypal alteration after the presence of the moon and the stars.

This alteration can be analyzed through a linguistic and religious lens.    In relation to Yunior’s native language, Spanish, light produces symbolic waves.  In Spanish, the sun is “el sol.”  The moon is “la luna;” and the stars are “las estrellas.”  Light as an overall concept is translated to “la luz.”  All of these words, except for the sun, are feminine.  The gendered heavenly bodies represented certain characters in the story.  The sun represented the masculine Yunior.  The moon symbolized the feminine Magda; and the stars signified the other possible lovers of Yunior.  This characterization of heavenly bodies presented itself in the short story at the differing times of light during the day and night.  Díaz related these linguistic characterizations with the moods of certain time periods of light to symbolically illustrate the archetypal adversities Yunior faced because of his lack of responsibility.  Yunior and his lovers, like the sun, the moon, and the stars, entered a light induced cycle – however, their cyclical relationship was problematic.  This cycle is shown in The Fall. 

Díaz refers to The Fall in the final moments of his story.  The last scene on the island, like the story of Adam and Eve, is mythical and mystical.  Like the Bible’s first story, the setting is mysterious and historically significant.  In the story, the cave rested at “the birthplace of the Tainos.” (Díaz 6)  Like Adam and Eve, Yunior was faced with temptation.  The darkness around him, enticed his soul to commit sin.  Díaz used this religious allusion to transport his self-deprecating character to a world where the author’s mercy shined onto the environment like “a darkness obliterator.”  (Díaz 6)  This symbolism in the situation, on Díaz’s part, is further intensified by the overarching allusion to Jesus.  At the end of the story, Yunior is literally lowered into a vertical cave by a Vice President and his henchman.  He is then raised out, overcome with emotion, and enlightened.  Before Jesus ascended to Heaven, he descended to Hell.  This hyperbolic allusion deepened Yunior’s sin and lack of responsibility through the comparison to the immortal and angelic foil.  Díaz simultaneously and satirically showed mercy to his main character while exhibiting the archetypal story of falling. 

Overall, “The Sun, The Moon, The Stars” is an archetypal story that contains Biblical allusions and synergetic properties.  Díaz compared Christian and Latin culture by amalgamating various anecdotal references from numerous sources.  This exhibited Yunior’s self deprecating nature and lack of responsibility while maintaining the dignity of the plot.  The short story decreed a global cry of vindication by incorporating religious and linguistic attributes in order to define a mysterious, ethical beginning to a mortal human.

- J. A. Kind  

Hey It Is Judith

This is the story of a girl, well, no - actually an old lady, who must battle the - okay we get it.  Watch the video here.  It is educational.  Subscribe.

        - J. A. Kind

Hakespearian Prose (Pronounced Jakespearian Prawhsay): 1 - A Moment With Chloe and Stacey

chloe (clah as stace calls her main turtle (omg turtles!)) –

i like make the face like this stace right omg i need lip botox – my lips like holy crap, where’d they go, i can’t feel them, like stacey i cant feel my lips.  Are they like still there or should i go to like the health center or like some place of medical you know?  oh no i see them in my cam cam i’m so ok anyway act cute here comes Justine oh Justine oh Justine look at his jk jk already seen like what yess yess YASSS THE BEAR WANTS ITS HONEY that is not apropro but like yeah back to duck face can we just like because honestly i don’t know if i can  can you stace stace can you i said that i cannot but i never can cannot omg canception again like no get me out of the can can stace? like random like for interception oh no i mean intensity like STACE stace answer me i am feeling really self unconfident right now okay cool cool like wslkiislafs  yeah you know that the homophone synonmin means teehee i’m so cute okay no i’m not wait okay time for short short pics oh wait that wall oh yes like the bricks yes mmh those bricks will look so hipster against my turtle iphone case hashtag instaclass like like you know i cannot like bae turtle teehee yaaas boo boo omg if you say boo boo fast its boob ooh ok i cannot i am done like so done like yep like  like likkkkkkke hakespeare

       - J. A. Kind

Art Exhibition: 4 - Juxtaposition

Needless to say, our interlocked harpoons entangled the subservient shellfish of our habitation.  The grindings of our tin canister, "unsanded," and the tinfoil wrapper of aluminum, pronounced in the British accent of course, fill the void between rocket and launcher as the knife attached to stick, impaled the first of all of its innocent prey.  Fish tails swerved and glided away in the undulations of currents that beset my heart like the very groupings of elements that create it.  Oh weary traveler, art thou, a small puckering of the lips, a minuscule bubble of breath from the near tragedy of aquatic kingdom?  Let the finned creature bleed, and hope the ions swell in the cushion of their saturated sea casket.

       - J. A. Kind

Helping Obese Paragraphs

To help an obese paragraph, strategically place the plus sized paragraph between two more paragraphs.  Subsequent to the placing, structure the grouping of paragraphs so that the obese paragraph has somewhat of a tummy tuck.  If done correctly, the paragraph should be spread across two pages.  This contouring, if you will, will not only help the self-esteem of the paragraph, but will additionally bring light into the collective group of paragraphs.  

Be nice to paragraphs.

Paragraphs.  

They make the world go round.

And fill up essays.  

Where would the world be without essays...

Stride with the paragraphs and paint essays on the bodies.

        - J. A. Kind

A Poem

Glass

She will look out the window as the deluge descends.

Water will flood the glass pane.

It will acceptingly defy Earth’s gravitational pull

as it will warp her vision. 

Once she moves her head and body across the pain

she will see the twists in the tunnels of moist beam. 

She will look out at the window,

believing Mother’s fallacy,

understanding the reality,

when solely viewing a distortion across the glass.

Drenched pains cause distortion.

          - J. A. Kind

Art Exhibit: 3 - Girl Underwater

Groupings, groupings, heed my call, swirl and dance in the light of the spherical gravitational pull while the tubes of innocence wash my markings and dress me pink, as the cats crawl beneath my ascendence, and the vapors drown in sorrow.  

         - J. A. Kind

And Mother Said, "Drink and Eat."

viral and striped sweaters

stress has its limits

for the entrance of grey

exposes tints of black and white

it can create focus

yet antagonize disparity

like a dial for velocity

it varies due to the pressure

of the attachments

of limbs

the greater the quantity of pressure

the greater the swell in velocity

however greater velocity

creates two facets of existence

blurs

and compression

not yet and nor until

anxiety fills the crevices of the blurs

it seeps into the missed messages

mavia

the entrance of the grey

unappreciative vision contains just

the acceptance of light

the foyer merely an

and a lacking of the capabilities of

our receptors

or the act of disregardingbjk   a law of

physics

human error

sarcastically the defiance of the meaning

of velocity

mary kennedy

          - J. A. Kind

Dear Polly

You will be missed.

- J. A. Kind

Art Exhibit: 2 - The Woman

Etching, no, rather drawing with blackened markers, I was able to rhythmically express my innards through the exposition of strides.  Constrained by the boiling classroom, seething with children, all, much younger, I enraged my body and subsequently dislodged the anger through the creation of the drawing.  

Children, come bring glory to my zip code.  And beckon the cloak of the governing woman.

           - J. A. Kind

It's A Gender Neutral

My iphone gave birth to this photograph of the outdoor ceiling.  Do not worry, it was an easy labor.

      - J. A. Kind

Art Exhibit: 1 - The Collage of Persephone

Daughter of garden, sunken in mud, let thy gravity uphold the ignorance of our greed, let the inopportune hedge guide our bodies to the cliff of the river so that our memories, a grouping of elements that irreversibly corrects the anticipatory fathoms of our petals, darken to the sightings of our underworld that melts our seeds until the hummingbirds and their feathers wither and our vivacious bottlenecked scars dissipate.

     - J. A. Kind