Gump Penetrates

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sarsparillav:

I do love a good wet nose photo op! I get interviewed by the infamous Gump Tibbs! What a delight!

Originally posted on The Lankville Daily News:

By Gump Tibbs By Gump Tibbs

It’s time for another penetrating interview with Gump Tibbs. Today, Gump interviews contributing female Sarah Samways.

GT: So, you have that little area in the paper where you are a female who contributes?

SS: Yes, I started out covering the economics/business section but it quickly grew into other things like interviewing old ladies in the middle of nowhere who would push me into empty pickle barrels. It’s been quite the rush!

GT: Absolutely fascinating! Do you often contribute?

Samways in the Snow. It's been snowing a lot. Samways in the Snow. It’s been snowing a lot.

SS: I contribute as much as possible. If I’m not eating, sleeping, or wrestling with condiments, I’m contributing. Lankville is an interesting place with lots of people begging for their stories to be told. It’s a journalistic endeavor that I’m proud to be a part of.

GT: Wait, they beg?

SS: Actually, they kind of demand it. People often see…

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IDENTITY CRISIS

identitycrisis_woods_5

Your likeness doesn’t belong to you. I like to play around with my own image from time to time, between banging my head against the proverbial wall, in the hopes that I’ll get to know myself a little better. The #selfie is the new form of self-portraiture and its potential goes beyond glamour shots of celebrity ass. Eliminating the gate between public and private, we’re all just consuming each other from afar. We’re all just singing into hairbrushes in front of a vast mirror that doesn’t exist while the occasional audience looks back at us. I suppose this sort of thing is right up my alley as discovering my own identity has always been a challenge.

I’ve never really discussed race as much as I probably should have in my writings, but I feel this has something to do with some of the displacement I’ve felt in my life. I am of that “ambiguously mixed race” where people come up to me speaking in different languages, expecting a response back that I can’t give. If I straighten my hair or if it gets curly and my skin changes tone in the summer heat, I wreck all kinds of assumptions. Some people actually get really upset when they “can’t place (me).” Others enjoy sizing me up, for them it is an intellectual smorgasbord. With an “olive complexion” and wide eyes, I look like everything and nothing all at once. As a child, I walked around with my mother and people would question the authenticity of our relationship, (i.e. the paternal genes won on physicality). This used to really bother me but I’ve come to embrace belonging to the world, even if I haven’t seen that much of yet.

But we all know that the world is getting smaller everyday! Technology connects and distances and no one knows who the fuck they are anymore and so we dream of a pastoral landscape, where freedom will reign in the trees and not in the wires. With our bodies, our pixelated selves, this is perhaps an oversimplification because it’s 2015 and technology will only become more invasive before it somehow devours itself. The hunter-gatherer days are over, but it’s a dream nonetheless.

Who am I? Who are you?

identitycrisis_woods_1 identitycrisis_woods_2  identitycrisis_woods_3

identitycrisis_woods_4

CONDIMENT HORRORS!

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sarsparillav:

Poor Suzy!

Originally posted on The Lankville Daily News:

By Suzy Sweetly-Services By Suzy Sweetly-Services

I can keep a real clean kitchen. I can soak the tables in sudsy liquids whenever I want; I can make them sparkle pristinely. I can mop up throw up like nobody’s business. I’m a professional and everybody knows it. But with great power comes great hostility because not everyone can shine like me. They’re out to get me, see. Every obstacle that They throw at me can be easily dodged. I’m the best.

The mayonnaise that almost killed Suzy. The mayonnaise that almost killed Suzy.

I saw a few of Them snickering around the condiments and speciality oils, right next to the napkin dispenser. I didn’t really make anything of it yet as I had an important meeting to attend about how to properly dress a coffee cup, (with a Java Jacket, of course!). A loud groan was then heard in echoing crescendos, carrying off into the hallway. I looked to my…

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Demassifying Science

ghost in the machine

It had been awhile but I decided to wander into the part of The Woods where I had once been kidnapped. I hoped to find The Specialist there, if only for a moment. He looked tired, as if he had been giving medical treatment to large groups of people in haste, he being the sole provider. I wanted to say a bunch of things all at once but none of it really made any sense so I stuck to the basics. Time was of the essence and this was all a fairy tale to begin with so beginning with false pleasantries would have been a waste of time.

“If you’re simply a conglomeration of hopes and dreams, bits and pieces of memories treasured and tattered, and I’m just another victim that needs medical attention, should I just stay out of this place altogether? If I’m just another patient that you can’t take care of or if I’m someone you’ve met before but pushed further and into stranger directions that even you couldn’t predict – Well, it’s sort of like the blind leading the blind, don’t you think?”

He was nervous now. A mutual friend lingered by, eager to capture this still life in paint and ashes.

“I am what you make me,” he sighed and then walked away.

I realized then that my knuckles were bleeding. I patched myself up and walked off into the night while my friend distracted me with tales of woe because the more I knew the less I actually learned.

simple ghost

THIS JUST IN!

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sarsparillav:

The Contributing Female strikes occasionally…

Originally posted on The Lankville Daily News:

By Sarah Samways: Reporter Who is a Woman By Sarah Samways: Reporter Who is a Woman

LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!

THIS JUST IN!

WOMAN’S RECKONER CALLS IT QUITS

Reckoning of the Reckoner for Local Woman? Reckoning of the Reckoner for Local Woman?

Yesterday evening, a local area woman got home from work and attempted to turn on her Reckoner, as per her end-of-shift routine. Unfortunately, it buzzed and whirred and its screen remained black. After several attempts to revive it, the woman picked up a book (covered in cobwebs and dust), and fell asleep.

THIS JUST IN!

BOY PULLS GIRL’S BRAIDS, STITCHES NEEDED ON SITE

Rascal and general hooligan, Johnny Lane, 7, was seen chasing an unidentified foreign girl in the schoolyard. The girl, who doesn’t speak any Lankville languages, sustained severe injuries to the scalp and psyche when Lane pulled her braids until several strands broke and were ripped straight out of her head. The event left many baffled and bits of the girl’s…

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eye see you

To those who envy my youth, I must apologize for it’s sticking around for just a little bit longer. Perhaps another four, five years at tops though, right? I’m sorry that I exist – even though I haven’t really ever used it (i.e. youth) properly; I know it’s difficult. It’s difficult especially when I don’t (and never will be able to) have crowning glory and/or fading beauty to cling on to. It’s scary to think that I still have life lessons to learn, new experiences to obtain, and skin to shed. It’s absolutely terrifying that I may know things that my elders don’t. It’s sickening to think I know things about myself but haven’t the experience yet to fix them. It’s a drag to acknowledge that I may still have “potential.”

Now, any friend can tell you that my hope is to be a life-long-learner, continuously absorbing things like a sponge with child-like enthusiasm, (and I won’t even have to go to grad school). So yes, youth in this sense, is a state of mind. But lest we forget it’s also hidden in the blood and expressed around the mouth too. Let the generations collapse and buckle, we needn’t fight because frankly, it’s beneath us.

girl with a work shirt on

sarsparillav:

…Or just take some ibuprofen.

Originally posted on The Lankville Daily News:

By Sarah Samways By Sarah Samways

Sarah Samways is a contributing female.

It’s been awhile since we last spoke, Lankville, but I promise I have not forgotten you. I’ve been out in the deepest regions of Little Hometown on assignment and have been trying to stay alive. While I was dodging Molotov cocktails from threatening armies and avoiding booby traps, I insisted on staying positive (if only for my crew’s sake). It’s all about perspective, now isn’t it?

We went on foot to discover if any bumpkins had scurried into the trees out of fright. I wanted to know what was going on here but again, I had fallen short of any real answers. I scribbled things on bits of leaves at random parts of the day, tossing aside the ones that I deemed incomplete thoughts on the spot. These equations only fueled more theories and none of them mattered. A young, nervous…

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KIDDO! looks back at you

internet ladies

DIACRITICAL MARKS OF THE FUTURE

The Universal Language isn’t music, math, or Esperanto – it’s the Internet. What about those in “third world countries,” you ask? Well, they’re not missing much and they’re missing a lot. Also, your neighbors across the street may not have access to this technicolored multi-speak either and ya know what (?!), I think they’ll survive. For now. If you can read this, just give me a wave – but wait, actually, no…keep your digits to yourself. K, thanx!

 

YEAR OF THE SCREAMING FEMALE

 

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