The Misfit Anthology.

The Misfit Anthology is an anthology of what it means to be a misfit, how it feels, and what it's like. It's also to some extent a celebration of that strangeness. Give me your stories, your art, your prose, your eccentric essays yearning to breathe free! Please. As I have said before, all things are accepted, and it's purely personal choice. We do ask for an avoidance of graphic violence, if at all possible. But that's merely a joke, so break my rules. That's sort of one of the points of the anthology. The anthology will be uncensored as far as language goes, so I am prepared to make a certain person as uncomfortable as is possible. Here are what entries we have so far.

(Before I forget. . .I'd love some graphic art from Spencer. I checked out your devART gallery and quite liked it.)

I decided that the theatre I wrote about before (you know, the depressing one, with the theatre that talks and Ben doing stage magic.) Is more interesting that I thought. So here's another story from it. This one has a lot of me. Ha. Just me. Well, Max is in it too, and Ben gets one line because he had so much of the story last time around. (Sorry about you rather depressing fate, Ben.) This is also my entry for the Misfit Anthology, which as yet has no other title. And it's a story-poem. It contains a few lines that were very embarrasing to write but needed to be in there to get across the character, and one reference to a current movie that I would not see even at gunpoint and scorn with all my heart. Preeesenting. . ."Something Eldritch." (Why is it titled thusly? You tell me.)

There is something living in the dark backstage
And no one knows about it.
Fewer care.
Satisfied with an illusion, actors
Do not believe in fearfulness.
Strange, simple Min, the only one who cares
Says nothing, but knows more
Than she has said.
The ears of those who choose to hear are sharper.
And Min hears everything.
Yellow fear shrieks of nervousness, stage fright
Sobs from diva tantrums
(A memory? Carlotta? Who?)
The perpetual beat of the rain on the
Peaked wood roof.
Min hears heat too
From the dressing room adjacent.
(Groans, shrieks, screams, pleadings -
"Not for me, thank you, move along, Mr. Bigalow.")
But prefers solitude
With only Anton and his trained dogs for company
She never was on speaking terms withthe world
Perfering the world inside her head.

God only knows
Why they hired Min
With her denim slacks and long skirts
Her mannish ways.
She is not pretty, really
And her eyes aren't the right colors
("Mismatched, better get contacts, dear
You'll never get a job."
Nor is she a genius dancer
Though she keeps her place in line
Min who sees ghosts
Who laughs too loud
Who dances, sometimes, out of step
Who only speaks to Anton
(Well, Ben the Magician, once.)

Min knows something is living in the dark backstage.

His name is Addison.
He knows her well.

FIN

Okay, that's my entry. Now, to make Ben as uncomfortable as possible, I present, my fellow actress, Gola, currently playing Phebe in "As You Like It," and her poem, which has two curse words, one of which I've censored because I just don't feel right saying it, and which I think she wrote while very very angry at. . .someone. (Love you too, Gola.)

Make it stop,
This is a dream,
Make them stop,
What I see isn't what it seems.

And how do I feel?
F--K DAMNIT I WANNA SCREAM!
The that has become real,
Is my nightmare, not my dream.

My heart's not broken, it's gone,
But he's not gone, he's just taken,
But she's not gone,
And my life has been shaken.

FIN

And now for Gola's other poem. This one has no cursing, and I like this one the best of the two.

You see her,
And you can swear she's fine,
You're sure,
She's fine!

Right?

Than she breaks down right in front of your eyes,
She thinks no one's watching, she's wrong,
You want to make her stop, you need to try,
You turn back to see her and she's gone.

FIN

I'd appreciate any submissions. You're certainly not limited to only one.

I remain, gentlemen, your faithful and obedient servant,

J.G.