Turbine whine aural assault. Mindwhip extracranial escape velocity attained. Subject Kindred powerdown, reentry from alternate universe.
Residual memorybits trailing ethereally, skinthrills electric. Seashell caress, try a little tenderness. It is Valentine's Day, after all.
Kindred slumped, sobbing headbobbing. AltU was a braincracker, seemdreamed he was a professor at USC, hugwugging his rubbertight half-sis.
How could the basement @JoyMotel house an entire sub-section of New Mexico, arid sky deeppool oh my, artificial wife helpmate named Corinna?
Were the turbines so powerful? Is that why Dick Overtone is always strutsmirking? He can send me anywhere, anytime, anyway, anyday he wants?
Kindred felt a spidery tingling in his right thumb, tickling webs between fingers, pinkyburn, palmslap, numbwrist, elbowdumb, shoulderlock.
His upperself juddered in spastic earth rhythm, hips shaking leghopping footsmoking I sing the body electric, universal jolts of smashmove.
Resistance is futile my friend this is the end you are in the pipe and scheduled for transmission please remove your bluecotton trousers.
Kindred moonslingshotted quadradimensionally lucid through a bubble of plastic wrapped TV dinner with mashed potatoes and gravy, yum, Tang.
Landed fullbellied and lipsmackin' back in the dorm without form, descending through time like a coinflipped dime, Seashell transcendent.
Skinslippery lust, do what you must. Her eyes closed in rapture, riding Kindred across wildprairie flatlands, flowers bending in the breeze.
Moangroan bluenotes Coltrane playing sirensoundsax creating memorydream from moments torched with sadness knowing that all things must pass.
Kindred you are a timeridin' badboy. Seashell too innocent to devour so rapaciously. What would your daddy say now? shuddup i'm almost done.
Seashell padding off to showerclean flanks sleek taut. Kindred springing from the eiderdown to stick toadgrippy on the ceiling, tongueflick.
I could get used to this alternate universe, Kindred thinks as he pushes a shopping cart full of Budweiser and tacos toward the checkout.
Gumchewing coed takes his chargecard and gives him the eyeball, Kindred awshucksing nonchalant cool, call me Professor Amatory, honeybell.
Later pushing midnight, doc Kindred in full oratorial splendor at the fratparty, cashier Lucy snuggling lappishly, regaling the studentbody.
Still later Kindred beddingly busy, Lucy and Seashell strokepoking while he observes, semidetached but patiently awaiting his turn, polite.
Brief flash of Karin scowling on his inbound retinal signal, quickprocessed by crazebrained Doctor of Love, smoothly rejected devilmaycare.
Lothario Kindred with seductive powers on highbeam walking campus hungry, bouncing atomically, seeking bonding opportunities, Mr. Valentine.
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A twitter novel
The Boston Phoenix says: "Joy Motel is a microblogging book worth scrolling upward for."
Joy Motel is an unconventional sci-fi narrative that was written in real time in 140 character bursts on Twitter, the Internet's fastest-growing social networking platform.
It takes its freeform, disconnected style from the randomness of the Twitterstream itself.
This is a novel for the 21st century, captured in quick bytes by a 5-time Bram Stoker Award Finalist and a Gold Award winning adman, who are transcribing the 'brainstream' flowing inside the neural net of its lead character, Kindred.
He has unknowingly purchased an untested, corrupt brainstream from a black market uploader, which has become an uneraseable part of Kindred's persona as he grapples with an ever-shifting sense of reality, dreams that twist into nightmares, and unreliable perceptions of time and space.
At the center of his struggle, a psychiatrist he calls Psychdaddy is attempting to resolve Kindred's repressed childhood memories of the 1945 Trinity nuclear blast in New Mexico and decode his father's role in a radical collective of bomb-worshippers called the 12 Disciples.
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