from The Exclamation Point!
(a 70,000 word long run-on sentence)
By Wolf Larsen
…the drums crashed and echoed through the concrete and glass valleys of Manhattan – drums crashing down buildings and splintering highways into crying asphalt – the drums hurtling trucks and cars to the neon heavens, the drums eating the oceans and splashing the mountains into falling ash and debris clouding over the planet, while the lonely piano drifted gloomily through the night and the bass birthed rhythm crying softly through the centuries while the human race colored the music with a labyrinth of passions, and the saxophone kept birthing the words and the bass formed them into phrases and the piano keys splintered the phrases into running words and no one was quite sure.. and no one was quite sure.. and piano keys kept creating words that ran around and around the urban maze piano keys that crashed and fornicated and birthed pregnant sentences that grew into centuries and the trumpet laughed and laughed until he went blind with the music, and the music became a neurotic orchestra that cried and shouted and pleaded with furious history that drifted and crashed and screamed with vengeance while the trumpet played and soared with the saxophone and no one was quite sure.. and no one was quite sure. . . and with the onslaught of the thrashing drums empires fell down and crashed into ruins while the saxophone sang their eulogy and mankind became one with the orchestra and fell and rose with the tormented violins and the french horn sounded an ominous note and the people looked around unsure. . . no one was quite sure. . . and everyone ran ahead hurriedly to their deaths with the violins who screeched disturbance. . . screeched disturbance. . . and the saxophone played irresistible death and the trumpet leered and the saxophone ran away the sax ran all over the painting attacking color with music, and the drums thundered WA!R WA!R and the drums thundered WA!R WA!R and everyone was so happy and everyone was so happy. . . and the saxophone spoke and birthed God and creation and the angels who came running out of that sax and the drums crashed the big bang smashing into planets and birthing clouds and sun and atmosphere, while the drums rained down on the human race which was born by the copulation of the tenor sax and the trumpet frolicking through the heavens and seducing all the angels, and the trumpet laughed again and seduced the piano who played softly oh so softly while the saxophone screeched and howled and birthed WARS and genocide and the people weren’t quite sure. . . they just weren’t quite sure. .
Copyright ã 2004 by Wolf Larsen. All Rights Reserved.


That was an excerpt from the 70,000 word run-on sentence called The Exclamation Point! Wolf Larsen dreamed up the idea of writing a run-on sentence while sitting in a café in Amsterdam, Holland. Wolf, a white man with blond hair and blue eyes, later wrote The Exclamation Point! while he was living in a tenement in Harlem, New York City. This amazing run-on sentence begins in a crowded public square in Bahia, Brazil and then the run-on sentence races all over the world! This run-on sentence is about living and traveling all over the world, working as a seasonal worker in Alaska, the avant-garde arts scene in New York City, and other aspects of Wolf Larsen’s life as well. Read more of The Exclamation Point! at http://www.secretwebsites.com/American_literature.htm

Excerpts from The Exclamation Point! and Wolf Larsen’s other works have been published in literary magazines. You may now buy The Exclamation Point! at Amazon.com or other online book retailers.

Wolf Larsen is an adventurer, novelist, playwright, and poet. He has traveled through 45 countries in Latin America, Europe, the Middle East, and Asia. To pay for his travels Wolf worked as a seasonal laborer in Alaska. Wolf has lived in Chicago, Wisconsin, New York City, Ecuador, Honduras, Brazil, and Peru. Wolf has written four novels, six collections of poetry, a play, a run-on sentence, and a screenplay. His two autobiographical novels are Unalaska, Alaska and Travel Around the World? Why Not?!

WTF?

:confused:

what is with people registering just to write weird stuff? lol

well that was 70,000 words worth of ****

well that was 70,000 words worth of ****

:brent

Wow! That's impressive.

And I thought I wrote some long sentences...

;)

spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam
spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam
spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam
spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam
spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam
spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam
spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam
spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam
spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam
spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam
spamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspamspam

Not only did that confuse me to the point where my brain hurt, but it ended up being really, really stupid.

well that was 70,000 words worth of ****

:brent

Not only did that confuse me to the point where my brain hurt, but it ended up being really, really stupid.

:yeahthat

I want that time back. :rolleyes: ;)

what is with people registering just to write weird stuff? lol
kinda fun, probably

SLAM! BOOM! CRASH!
By
Wolf Larsen
I walk into the big m------------ supermarket. I work here. Florescent lights, giant whiteness.
I am given groceries to sort. I am happy. this little task gets me away from the petty manager standing like a huge shadow over me.
Aisles long aisles. Anonymous rows of canned this and that. I still haven’t the faintest where half this g------ s--- goes. I don’t care. I’m paid s--- wages so basically I don’t give a s---.
Straight lines of cans - burp! Straight long aisles. It all looks so orderly - whoops! It fills me with the urge to knock everything down - ahem! You’re out of order What? To just run along these aisles with my arms outstretched and knock everything down. “If you say so.” Chaos! Disorder!
I’m all over the store. Here, there, everywhere - cause I can’t like figure out where half the **** this g------ s--- goes. Or maybe I can but I don’t care enough to. Maybe I should just dump it here in the middle of the g------ floor. Why not? I certainly don’t give a s---. I don’t get pa-id enough to give a s---. I said that already but there are some things in this life you just can’t say enough.
Fluorescent “music” comes from the speaker. MuZak. Elevator Muzak. God, that s--- is annoying. I’d like to just BASH the f--- out of that speaker.
And I’d also like to SMASH a tremendously large hole into that ceiling! Let the BLUE SKY into this place!
The “muzak” - it lacks the JUICE! - sends awkward soft little penises into the air. Bleak safe non-colorous is the sound it emits.
The walls are just like the school walls - painted white with black trim - it’s like the whole world today is non-colors.
And this place needs music - real music - LIVE music! Brazilian Samba and Latino Salsa, Pavorati and some loud punk rock band - all playin at the same time - THAT would add some LIFE to this place!
LIFE! life life life life life!
oh sweeeeeett life! live it! breath it! taste it! smell it! embrace it! oh life! And Meat ! MEAT! I want some MEAT! And we could all cook up some of those thick juicy meaty m------------ STEAKS over the grill and have a BIG BARBrabacue for all us carnivores!
manager: “HEY READER!”
“Huh?”
- whoops (!) oh s--- (!) it’s the manager (!) -
manager: “How many times have I told you about daydreaming on the job?”
- I shrug my shoulders -
- and he takes me off the sorting job and puts somebody else even more incompetent on it. He sends me to the front end to bag groceries, where he can keep an e-y-e-watch on me.
The manager is a xiphsuran or perhaps a zoosporangium - a pain? - is not the word. He’s got a wimpy attempt at facial hair he should shave off. He looks like the only physical labor he’s had in his life is lifting a knife and fork.
So I’m put baggin’ groceries in the check out line. You’re startin’ to see WILD CIRCLES of COLORS dancing swirling through the air and stripes of wild raspberry and tropical green and passionate hot pinks and -
Then the manager starts Breath-ing down my back. Breath-ing down my back! Breath-ing down my back! And my back gets rigid. My shoulders tight. Bubble burn nervous in my stomach. And some other emotion entirely different I’M ANGRY LASH-ING OUT AT THEM WITH GIANT CLAWS!! Claws (?) I don’t have any claws(!) but so what(?) that’s how U feel. And my insides are BASH-ing THRASH-ing around -
SCREEEEEAAAAA-A-A A-A-A-A-M!!
I’m caught between these two WILD con-flicting emotions of docile nervous-s-s-s-snous and unrighteous ANGER! My heart beats - beating-beating-beats the overflowing emotion of a semi-civilized savage.
BOOm - boom - boom - boom - Boom!
boom. boom. boom.
BOOm - boom - boom - boom - Boom!
boom. boom. boom.
BOOm - boom - boom - boom - Boom!
boom. boom. boom.
ChaAAAARGE! THESE are the crazed pas-sions - passion! and emo-tions - emotion! buil-ding Up within me like a VOLCANO about to BURST Open! On the surface - my mere body is en-gaged in bag-gin groceries - the vio-lent cha-os remains hidden - for now.
And remember now - Jack is a Manboy with terribly “confusing” changes goin’ on inside my body my mind secreting all these naturally - oh wow - hormones of all different kinds and all the endless layers of multitudes of complexities in growing into an adult in a world such as this and THESE TWO MANAGERS - MR. ------ AND MR. ------ - are the two sparks that are about to ignite a VOLCANIC eERUUUPT-ion of all my confused conflicting Manboy semi-post adolescence and nearbutnotquiteadultcomplexities if they don’t just LEAVE ME ALONE!
I feel like JUMP-ing on the counter here and NOW and THROW-ing my clothes OFF(!) and run-ning NAKED (!) through the aisles SMASH-inG (!) down all the cans unto the floor. OH (!) , wouldn’t that be GREAT! It would be so much F-U-N! I feel myself goin half-MAaAD! I want to obliterate insanely intricate details. What?
I mean WHY NOT? Why not GO CRAaAZY?!? Why should I act so normal with such neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic managers hurling their shadows and staring their bulging eyes attacking me.
And do you think that I’m neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic? For wanting to strip rip off my clothes and dance and run around naked and smash the window and escape this miserable white fluorescent twisted fantasy? Because it’s no fantasy man - it’s a swirling NiGghT-MaArREe swallowing our tiny little lives.
And I ran away from the supermarket. I ran through barren landscapes colored entirely red, colored entirely black, colored entirely gray. I ran to the bathroom.
I close the bathroom door behind me and lock it -
click!
- from the outside world. I piss-ss-ss into the urinal. At the end I of course shake-ake-ake it to get rid of all those last few drop-op-op-ops. Wouldn’t want those to come out in my underwear and making me sme-e -e -e -ell like pee.
I put a little green bud (dope, weed, marijuana) in my little pipe. It is the best. None of that brown-assed skuuunk for me! This is the best kind of HoliMariwanna. Grade Jack-inspected green bud.
I light it. I inhale. I hold the smoke in. I try not to cough.
One minute later I am back on the job. The best way to do a stupid menial job is to do it stoned off your a--.
Copyright 2004 by Wolf Larsen. All Rights Reserved.

I wrote SLAM! BOOM! CRASH! while living in the Bahia region of Brazil. The work is heavily influenced by the Afro-Brazilian music of that region. One college professor told me, “That’s wilder than a Nabokov novel!” and that’s how my web page got its name. If you would like to read more of SLAM! BOOM! CRASH! you may go to http://www.secretwebsites.com/Nabokov_novel.htm
Wolf Larsen

?

And you're telling us this because.................:confused:

Just hilarious. :lol:

Now if any of you are REALLY interested in a challenge, you can help me edit my 500-word essay. :p

(100% serious, btw, haha.)

SLAM! BOOM! CRASH!
By
Wolf Larsen
I walk into the big m------------ supermarket. I work here. Florescent lights, giant whiteness.
I am given groceries to sort. I am happy. this little task gets me away from the petty manager standing like a huge shadow over me.
Aisles long aisles. Anonymous rows of canned this and that. I still haven’t the faintest where half this g------ s--- goes. I don’t care. I’m paid s--- wages so basically I don’t give a s---.
Straight lines of cans - burp! Straight long aisles. It all looks so orderly - whoops! It fills me with the urge to knock everything down - ahem! You’re out of order What? To just run along these aisles with my arms outstretched and knock everything down. “If you say so.” Chaos! Disorder!
I’m all over the store. Here, there, everywhere - cause I can’t like figure out where half the **** this g------ s--- goes. Or maybe I can but I don’t care enough to. Maybe I should just dump it here in the middle of the g------ floor. Why not? I certainly don’t give a s---. I don’t get pa-id enough to give a s---. I said that already but there are some things in this life you just can’t say enough.
Fluorescent “music” comes from the speaker. MuZak. Elevator Muzak. God, that s--- is annoying. I’d like to just BASH the f--- out of that speaker.
And I’d also like to SMASH a tremendously large hole into that ceiling! Let the BLUE SKY into this place!
The “muzak” - it lacks the JUICE! - sends awkward soft little penises into the air. Bleak safe non-colorous is the sound it emits.
The walls are just like the school walls - painted white with black trim - it’s like the whole world today is non-colors.
And this place needs music - real music - LIVE music! Brazilian Samba and Latino Salsa, Pavorati and some loud punk rock band - all playin at the same time - THAT would add some LIFE to this place!
LIFE! life life life life life!
oh sweeeeeett life! live it! breath it! taste it! smell it! embrace it! oh life! And Meat ! MEAT! I want some MEAT! And we could all cook up some of those thick juicy meaty m------------ STEAKS over the grill and have a BIG BARBrabacue for all us carnivores!
manager: “HEY READER!”
“Huh?”
- whoops (!) oh s--- (!) it’s the manager (!) -
manager: “How many times have I told you about daydreaming on the job?”
- I shrug my shoulders -
- and he takes me off the sorting job and puts somebody else even more incompetent on it. He sends me to the front end to bag groceries, where he can keep an e-y-e-watch on me.
The manager is a xiphsuran or perhaps a zoosporangium - a pain? - is not the word. He’s got a wimpy attempt at facial hair he should shave off. He looks like the only physical labor he’s had in his life is lifting a knife and fork.
So I’m put baggin’ groceries in the check out line. You’re startin’ to see WILD CIRCLES of COLORS dancing swirling through the air and stripes of wild raspberry and tropical green and passionate hot pinks and -
Then the manager starts Breath-ing down my back. Breath-ing down my back! Breath-ing down my back! And my back gets rigid. My shoulders tight. Bubble burn nervous in my stomach. And some other emotion entirely different I’M ANGRY LASH-ING OUT AT THEM WITH GIANT CLAWS!! Claws (?) I don’t have any claws(!) but so what(?) that’s how U feel. And my insides are BASH-ing THRASH-ing around -
SCREEEEEAAAAA-A-A A-A-A-A-M!!
I’m caught between these two WILD con-flicting emotions of docile nervous-s-s-s-snous and unrighteous ANGER! My heart beats - beating-beating-beats the overflowing emotion of a semi-civilized savage.
BOOm - boom - boom - boom - Boom!
boom. boom. boom.
BOOm - boom - boom - boom - Boom!
boom. boom. boom.
BOOm - boom - boom - boom - Boom!
boom. boom. boom.
ChaAAAARGE! THESE are the crazed pas-sions - passion! and emo-tions - emotion! buil-ding Up within me like a VOLCANO about to BURST Open! On the surface - my mere body is en-gaged in bag-gin groceries - the vio-lent cha-os remains hidden - for now.
And remember now - Jack is a Manboy with terribly “confusing” changes goin’ on inside my body my mind secreting all these naturally - oh wow - hormones of all different kinds and all the endless layers of multitudes of complexities in growing into an adult in a world such as this and THESE TWO MANAGERS - MR. ------ AND MR. ------ - are the two sparks that are about to ignite a VOLCANIC eERUUUPT-ion of all my confused conflicting Manboy semi-post adolescence and nearbutnotquiteadultcomplexities if they don’t just LEAVE ME ALONE!
I feel like JUMP-ing on the counter here and NOW and THROW-ing my clothes OFF(!) and run-ning NAKED (!) through the aisles SMASH-inG (!) down all the cans unto the floor. OH (!) , wouldn’t that be GREAT! It would be so much F-U-N! I feel myself goin half-MAaAD! I want to obliterate insanely intricate details. What?
I mean WHY NOT? Why not GO CRAaAZY?!? Why should I act so normal with such neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic managers hurling their shadows and staring their bulging eyes attacking me.
And do you think that I’m neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic neuro-tic? For wanting to strip rip off my clothes and dance and run around naked and smash the window and escape this miserable white fluorescent twisted fantasy? Because it’s no fantasy man - it’s a swirling NiGghT-MaArREe swallowing our tiny little lives.
And I ran away from the supermarket. I ran through barren landscapes colored entirely red, colored entirely black, colored entirely gray. I ran to the bathroom.
I close the bathroom door behind me and lock it -
click!
- from the outside world. I piss-ss-ss into the urinal. At the end I of course shake-ake-ake it to get rid of all those last few drop-op-op-ops. Wouldn’t want those to come out in my underwear and making me sme-e -e -e -ell like pee.
I put a little green bud (dope, weed, marijuana) in my little pipe. It is the best. None of that brown-assed skuuunk for me! This is the best kind of HoliMariwanna. Grade Jack-inspected green bud.
I light it. I inhale. I hold the smoke in. I try not to cough.
One minute later I am back on the job. The best way to do a stupid menial job is to do it stoned off your a--.
Copyright 2004 by Wolf Larsen. All Rights Reserved.

I wrote SLAM! BOOM! CRASH! while living in the Bahia region of Brazil. The work is heavily influenced by the Afro-Brazilian music of that region. One college professor told me, “That’s wilder than a Nabokov novel!” and that’s how my web page got its name. If you would like to read more of SLAM! BOOM! CRASH! you may go to http://www.secretwebsites.com/Nabokov_novel.htm
Wolf Larsen
the loud boom scared me