by Joshua Allen
Dudes! (And ladies.) Rina is recapping Chokeville on a new site called Junie’s Airship. (Which is a pretty inside-baseball title.) You’ll find handy little tidbits like this:
Capital Sam - a courier for Feddema Global. He wants to have sex with angels when he dies.
Hey what is up. I sort of forgot to write anything new for Chokeville for a month. I got waylaid by the holidays (and I mean way laid LOL up top broseph come on don’t leave me hanging here OK fine but I’ll remember this day) and then the usual malaise that always hits me after doing any project for more than three days.
But hey, new year new ME. I’m doing sick ab squats every morning and taking night classes in Passive Aggressive Blogging and I’m back to work on this story called “Heavy Orientation.”
If you don’t remember what was happening when we last left off, that makes two of us. Actually that makes all of us, everywhere.
The new chapter is called “The Dim Mak.”
Allison looks at the stories running along her arms. She says something to Hugo in their twin language and hears nothing back. She gives a moment’s thought to the story about how their parents met, in a cage dangling over a volcano.
The world is nothing if not unfinished business, in Hook as everywhere else.
(via texburgher)kfan:
Use of the phrase “something precious” in Chokeville.
- “You destroyed something precious inside her.”
- “I have taken something precious from you. Welcome to Sal’s Fish House.”
- “Ah god,” he says, now actually weeping. “Lost something precious.”
- “Some feller that made off with something precious.”
- He lowers his hand and says: “I have taken something precious from you.”
This is relevant to the new chapter!
Folks, we’ve been sort of dicking around with Chokeville for a while, doing random one-offs and wax-offs, just basically flashing shiny objects, but now we’re getting back into the meat of the story sandwich, the succulent cheese-infused Ball Park Frank at the heart of the shitty burrito I improvised at three in the morning, if you will.
When we last left Allison Hull, she’d been kidnapped and taken to some underwater fortress, which somebody needs to get around to describing in some sort of detail, and offered a job as a courier in Fort Hook, a job that evidently entails a lot of face-punching and flat-out death.
Will she take the job?? Oh god the suspense OK spoiler alert of course she does, this thing needs to go somewhere, right? Eventually? Anyway here’s the first chapter of a new story called Heavy Orientation that’ll get you where you need to go:
kfan:
This reminded me of the scene in Chokeville where Jane takes Hugo to the Mutable Room and he climbs down into the corridor that leads to Dr Manz’s office.
It’s weird to write a sentence that you know will only be understood by one other person on the planet.
still impossibly young
what happens to a woman when she coughs
she feel the bugs in her womb
her first cigarette ever
Warm and delightful? You’re gonna make me blush.
if your going to get in trouble with the prisible and he call your parents should tell your parents or not
Ashland cunt
WTF! Two new Chokeville things in one week? Josh, how do you do it. What is your secret. Is it cocaine. Go ahead. You can tell us. We’re all friends here. No judgment. Is it cocaine or not.
I think we’ll soon be heading back into tales of Allison Hull starting her incredibly dangerous and bad-idea new job at Feddema Global, so to crack the ol knuckles I’ve put up a little story about a teenaged Allison (hawt) going on a field trip to the Museum of Exciting Natural History. Actually, she’s barely in this. There’s no one in this story you need to worry yourself with, really. They’re all dead now.
You go read now:
Chums, I am back from vacation. (P.S. I highly recommend doing Thanksgiving the week before Thanksgiving. Don’t let Uncle Sam tell you when you can and cannot eat a cranberry cylinder and enjoy long awkward silences with your family.) I’m primed and pumped and ready to create new content for you — gratis!
Maybe you can print it out and read it while going through airport security and wishing you were dead. Maybe you can read it on your phone! The sky is, quite literally, the limit. Not literally.
I just bit my goddamn bastard bitch ass lip.
Anyway! New thing up! Do you remember the Archivists? They’re the imprisoned orphan girls who Feddema Global “retains” to monitor and transcribe everything that’s said to anyone, ever. There will be a bunch of excerpts from their transcriptions, especially when I can’t be bothered to write an actual story, and here is the first one:
Archivist Transcript No. 01: Feddema / Glenndenning
Just saw this in my logs and I want to clear something right up: You can play carrick with any garden variety deck of cards as long as you keep in mind that jacks, queens, and kings are actually 11s, 12s, and 13s.
As Manly Hall says in The Secret Teachings of All Ages:
“The two colors, red and black, represent the two grand divisions of the year—that during which the sun is north of the equator and that during which it is south of the equator. The four suits represent the seasons, the ages of the ancient Greeks, and the Yugas of the Hindus. The twelve court cards are the signs of the zodiac arranged in triads of a Father, a Power, and a Mind according to the upper section of the Bembine Table. The ten pip cards of each suit represent the Sephirothic trees existing in each of the four worlds (the suits). The 13 cards of each suit are the 13 lunar months in each year, and the 52 cards of the deck are the 52 weeks in the year. Counting the number of pips and reckoning the jacks, queens, and kings as 11, 12, and 13 respectively, the sum for the 52 cards is 364. If the joker be considered as one point, the result is 365, or the number of days in the year.”
OK? Easy peasy. Bust out a deck at Thanksgiving and play a few rounds. Grandma might surprise you with a gravy boat to the head if you doubt her even for a second.
Just put up a new section on the site called Chokeville Radio, where all the various audio transmissions and field recordings will go.
Right now we’ve got the first installment of Fabulous Don Swezey’s late night pirate broadcast called Midnite Threnody. He chatters creepily about his favorite diner and then mercifully pipes down and plays a song by a group called Lissome.
(Lissome contacted me out of the blue about creating some music for this project, and then they DID, and it was AWESOME, and that is TANFASTIC, if you ask me.)
And every day you’ll walk into a room without a plan. And that gets fun.
Funny thing about this line is it describes my worst nightmare. So I guess I can write characters who aren’t just thinly veiled versions of myself! Take THAT, Mrs. Clark.
Evenin’, ma’am. [doffs giant orange foam novelty cowboy hat] I’m going to start posting little posts here when there’s some new thing over at Chokeville, if that’s OK. If it’s not OK, then SADFACE FOR YOU
I’m still figuring out how best to organize everything on the site and let people know what the hell’s going on, but first I must spend a couple days catapulting fowl at swine with the intent of wrecking their rickety homes.
In the meantime, there’s a new story called The Mayor ready for you. It starts like this:
The captain finished binding the anchor to the fisherman’s feet and admired his handiwork, his breathing ragged. “That’s a mean double constrictor,” he said, feeling through his inner pockets for a celebratory puff. This was about two hundred years ago.
I interviewed Josh Allen, perhaps better known as @fireland, for WFIT. If you don’t know Josh’s writing already, you probably will soon, because his new project Chokeville is more or less a bone-shattering slam dunk, and appears to be growing more shattering by the day.
(Bone-shattering aside, this is one of my favorite interviews I’ve done in a long time, so if you trust my judgment at all, I guess go for it.)
Just sitting here and thinking about all the great things I’m gonna get at Target, using my Feddema Global stationery.
