Friday, November 12, 2004

Extended Metaphor

Below is an extended metaphor that I did as an excerise for class. The professor wanted us to take a metaphor and stretch it out over a page or two. Enjoy!

After a somber journey up an old-fashioned elevator, the kind with a gate that squeaks as one heaves it aside, I arrived at the floor of Johnny’s party. Before I even reached the door, I knew this affair would be a conflagration. A stifling mixture of debate, shouts, and laughter met me as soon as I emerged onto the floor. As I approached, a soft glow came not only from under the door, but seemed to seep from the cracks and the hinges. Yes, this fire and been stoked for a good few hours before I got there. Stoked with booze and stoked with coke. I’m sure Johnny had made sure to invite all the “right” people—love triangles, conservatives, liberals, advocates, nihilists, vegans, and butchers—all kindling for the flame.

The door shot open before I could knock, and Johnny, wearing a leopard skin grinned at me.

“I didn’t know this was a costume party,” I said, peering over his shoulder.

“It’s not,” He handed me a giant fish bowl of drink.

The heat of his apartment overtook me and I quickly stripped off my jacket. Despite the chill air outside, I saw that most of the other partygoers were wearing shorts or short-sleeves or sleeveless gowns all made of thinnest fabrics. Clearly they had all been to Johnny’s before. I looked down over my black turtleneck at my thick corduroys.

“Sorry, Cyrus, I should have told you. I like my people nice and sweaty. I’m doing this thing where I crank up the party bit by bit—the heat, the stereo, the food—every hour on the hour it all goes up by another degree,” Then he was gone into a cluster of people. Lit by both a dull red light and a strobe, they were all dancing the rhythmic dance of flame, undulating their bodies in Ss and lifting their hands up to lick the bottoms of orange streamers that fell from the ceiling.

Every so often the writhing clutch of men and women would spit out a few its members, sparks from a fireplace. Some landed on the deck, where they bummed cigarettes and caught their breath. Others landed in the bathroom, where they did lines and made out on the sink top. Still others landed in the kitchen where they raided Johnny’s fridge. They were all embers that would soon flare, hot spots that would soon threaten to gut out the whole place.

Until then, I decided to take off my turtleneck and warm myself by the hearth.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

MIA

Hello everyone,

I apologize for the lack of posts lately. I have had a pretty nasty head cold that had me sleeping a lot the past couple days. Look for a new post tonight or tomorrow.