Neon Codex

Where digital meets classical.

—By a Thousand Cuts

—I fell off the map somewhere back in October, judging by the dates on my most recent blog posts. I realize now this was right before my grandmother’s funeral, which I unexpectedly flew to Buffalo for after she spent a weekend in the hospital, intubated and comatose, finally passing away in the night before my mother was able to reach the hospital, taking a Red Eye flight up from Dallas.

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Writer's Workshop Short Story: The Ring

Hi there. It’s been another two weeks and therefore another writer’s workshop has been held with Brandon and Lauren at the Coronado. This week I have something special for you, and by that I mean something fairly long and involved that probably won’t translate terribly well to the micro-attention span of the internet.

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This, The Best of All Possible Worlds

I don't know how honestly I've ever written from my own perspective. By that I mean that I'm always using some form of abstraction; whether it's simply riffing on someone else's ideas, read in a novel or seen in a movie, or writing characters who are intentionally very different from me, especially so lately.

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Triptych: On Light and Shadows

I'm a rigid piece of work. I've been scared of basically everything for as long as I can remember and I'm way too sensitive. I think too much, about everything, and anyone else who is like this will know that analysis for its own sake won't bring any peace of mind. Like that classic image of a snake eating its own tail.

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Writer's Workshop Prompts

For the past few weeks I've been meeting up with a few friends of mine and holding a writer's workshop. We meet up every two weeks and at the end of each meeting we assign some homework for the next meeting based on a prompt we all agree on. I thought I'd get in the practice of posting the material I come up with for each prompt on the blog.

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Another Green World: Some Reflections on Art and Optimism at the DMA

The Dallas Museum of Art possesses a sense of grandeur; the sleek modern architecture made up of monolithic concrete slabs, the tall open hallways and atrium, the long sprawling mural along the first floor wall, and the ornate gilt frames on the Monets, the Cézannes, the Renoirs.

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Who Needs Privacy Anyway? Adventures in Modern American Airline Travel and Beyond

Me the whole time, as innocuous as my few items are, stressing that somehow I’d get caught in some Kafkaesque loophole and have to defend my innocence against a battery of bureaucratic absurdities—Like a dog.

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July in Retrospect: Car Fires, Utopian Visions, and the Fourth

There's this quote at the beginning of The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin, where it gets its title. It essentially states, and I'm paraphrasing, that in Genesis the rainbow was a sign sent from God, a solemn promise, that He would never flood the earth again. That next time, He would simply set it on fire. Pardon my sacrilege, but that always struck me as kind of a fucked up trade-off.

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Penelope to Odysseus: A Scattering of Tear Stained Fragments in the Sea

Having completed them both I think my favorite thing about the entire exercise is the characterizations of both Odysseus and Penelope, one half internal and the other through their lover's eyes, is only complete with both pieces. The full portrait appears of each lover most vividly when connected with the other half. Point and Counter-Point. Hope you like it. 

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Odysseus to Penelope: An Undelivered Letter Swallowed by the Sea

That's where the idea comes from. What I wanted to do was write two undelivered love letters, one by Odysseus, the other by Penelope, written during the time Odysseus was adrift in the Aegean Sea following the Trojan War. Neither of them knowing if the letters would ever be read, let alone if they'd ever see each other again. 

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A Sketch of a Young Man in a Single Unbroken Block

Shiloh Promme would lay on his bed at night and stare at the ceiling, the light from the cracked bathroom door shining dimly across the impressions on the textured plaster. It looked almost like a lunar landscape in that light. At seventeen years old he was still scared of the dark.

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A Sketch of a Young Woman in Five Parts

They sat quietly across from each other in the busy restaurant. She was a pale, thin little girl with short, dark hair. She played absently with her food, deep inside of herself, making pretend with her potatoes and chunks of mangled broccoli. Her mother sat across from her, she was pretty and had long blonde hair and a pair of sunglasses turned up on the top of her head.

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Public Relations

The receipt prints,

"Oh, that's fine." they say, waving it away,

"As long as you don't tackle me on the way out." 

I've probably heard that same joke, over a hundred times,

From over a hundred different people, 

So much so it's like a common expression, that people don't know is common,

Just something they all say in this situation,

A thing almost as strange as how people always start walking up,

Just as soon as I try to write this down

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