Sorry to post another non-verse block of text, and my apologies to James for bumping his poem down.

This is just a bit of an addendum to the previous 'house-cleaning/keeping' post, where I mentioned something about us trying to expand and whatnot. We've been offered a domain name and free hosting from Horatio, the founder and head honcho of the Rampage Network (www.rampagenetwork.com), a growing webcomics community. Horatio's interested in digital publishing in general (unless I'm mistaken), so it's not as awkward a fit as it may appear.

Bottom line, someone's offering to host Pedestrian Protection and more or less give it the royal treatment. Right now, we'd be the first of our kind over 'there' (the Rampage Network), but with a decent chance to gather more of our ilk as time goes on (again, unless I'm mistaken). Excellent chance for some more exposure/recruitment, and I don't see anything wrong with escaping the mire of Blogspot's multitude of blogs.

I'm for the move. What do you guys think?

Spring cleaning.

Just a couple of 'housekeeping' things.

First, welcome to Matt (is it?). His arrival makes us four strong... provided James ever comes back.

Secondly, Chris is going to be putting up some guidelines for a project we'd like to get working on, a collaboration/compilation of sorts. Non-internet publishing might be involved. He'll have something up eventually.

Also, since we're growing in number, we might want to consider expanding in purpose and presentation. Right now, Pedestrian Protection is just a typical, obscure garage band (of poetry), but would you guys be interested in approaching rock star, record label-mode? That is, trying to gain some sort of readership, finding means of exposure, etc., etc.. Or should we stay as we are?

Finally, update. Post. Create. Comment. Twice-monthly sucks. Chris wants a weekly schedule, and I'd push for something even more frequent than that. Anything is good, so long as we're fertile longer than we're fallow.

That's all from me.

I've given some thought to expanding Pedestrian Protection outside of the universe of the Plain Praetorian, and I've decided that I'm going to. I have a project I've been working on for a little while, but I've neglected it for the past month or so, and would like to get back to working on it. Posts that are relevant to it will feature a city symbol.

Right now, I call it "A cityscape.", and I'm hoping it'll turn out to be a collection of poems that narrate everything (and more!) that I'm going to describe next:

A preacher/leader of a religious movement has founded a civilization of sorts within the bounds of a garden that borders a great chasm. This leader, the FORLORN MESSIAH, a necromancer, has created a religion based off of the idea of resurrection. His followers are urged to get through life as quickly as possible-- perhaps advocating suicide-- so that they can be resurrected with the full knowledge of death, thus making them more complete beings. It also allows them to, in a way, circumvent the natural cycle: since death has already taken them once, it has no reason to take them again, giving them a sort of immortality and agelessness.

However, the religion of the FORLORN MESSIAH is corrupted and perverted by one of his disciples, the SURGEON-GENERAL. The SURGEON-GENERAL eventually brings ruin upon the garden and the followers of the FORLORN MESSIAH, disbanding 'church'. On the other side of the chasm, he founds a city of machinery, and begins promulgating a religion of his own. It is much like that of the FORLORN MESSIAH, but without the resurrection. The SURGEON-GENERAL, a sadistic, melancholy, and suicidal being, pushes his followers to seek death as quickly as possible so that life cannot torture them-- but without leaving behind a corpse. Bodies are subject to resurrection, and the SURGEON-GENERAL fears an uprising of the resurrected (he was not able to destroy or eliminate the FORLORN MESSIAH, who now dwells in the sewers/cellars of the city).

Those who survived the destruction of the garden, and those who refuse to follow the SURGEON-GENERAL, make an exodus to the plains beyond the chasm and the city. They find no solace, though, as the SURGEON-GENERAL pursues them with soldiers and war. A brief conflict ensues, and the 'rebels', so to say, and in name only, are defeated and bound/forced to worship a great monument of metal. This monolith 'mutates', again, so to say, the inhabitants of the plains, causing them to be infused and born with metal defects. Such an example is the LACERATED ORATOR, the leader of the oppressed people, who has a razor blade embedded in his vocal chords (and whose lips were cut away by the SURGEON-GENERAL to 'enhance' his ability to orate to the people of the plains).

That's some of the background. As for actual plot and story, I'm not too sure-- it'll be something that involves the return of the MISCREANTS (the people of the plains, who I forgot to name in the last paragraph) and the LACERATED ORATOR, and the eventual destruction of the city and the reinstatement of the FORLORN MESSIAH and his religion, which is irregainable and no longer pure. Or, everyone will just die, or something. Like I said, not too sure.

It's all a bit rough-hewn right now, and (obviously) needs some work and polishing, but my goal with it, however ridiculous and unrealistic, is to perhaps get it published somewhere. If I can up its quality significantly and produce a decent number of poems, that is.

I have a number of poems already composed, so I'll post them intermittently, and will be adding new ones as well.

And that's that. Hopefully something good will come of it all.

(I think I made up a couple of new words while writing this entry. And, in regards to the capitalization of characters, I saw it done in Dante's Inferno, and thought it was really cool. So, now I do the same.)

II: In this vignette, the Praetorians, on the order of the emperor, have just executed a troublesome nobleman. The entire household is murdered, and the Plain Praetorian explores the idea of a perfect slaying-- how much is too much, and how much is too little? How much contempt and disdain? How much mercy? How much pain should be inflicted? I've never actually killed anyone, but I meant for it to be a parallel to writing. I made use of 'soundplay' and wordplay, as usual. The rhyming is a bit simplistic, and I think the climax of the piece (if I can use that term legitimately), when the Plain Praetorian is killing the servant, is a bit too short. I may revisit and redo this one.

III: In this poem, a band of gaudy miscreants and thieves are planning to graverob the tomb of a recently-deceased emperor. The Praetorians have caught wind of the plot and plan to ambush the intruders in the catacombs. More wordplay and phonic puns. I'm really trying to build and develop that aspect of my writing, as that's what everything I compose is predicated on, more or less. I'm going to come back and fix this one up. It's a little vague in some points, and the 'marmalade' reference is a little cliched and doesn't really fit in the rest of the poem.

IV: The Plain Praetorian is on guard duty, patrolling the perimeter of a coastal complex/compound/fortress. It's high-up, and there is a cage of birds along the rampart he is stationed upon. The inspiration for this poem came from me pondering on the 'battle' between nature and civilization, and how the environment and animals and all that are being driven out of their element. My thoughts are this: maybe it isn't so bad. Animals can adapt. They can survive. We have several bird feeders at my house, as well as an artificial pond. Both have altered the surrounding nature, so to say, but maybe the animals the handouts, the safety. Maybe they prefer that over the 'purity' of untouched wilderness. It's not a real great thought, and not very developed, but, whatever. I'm definitely going to rework this one: the central idea (animals who remain animals and 'in touch' with nature, but who also take advantage of the benefits of civilization) isn't very strong or apparent, and I think the descriptions could be supercharged and whatnot.

I'm still working on the layout as a whole. I may change around the icons for each post, so that they'll be more appropriate for the content/what they represent. I also need to find some readers, and, since this project was inspired by an art group, I may look for some contributors and compatriots as well. Finally, I may use this for ideas and writing outside of the Plain Praetorian character, but I'm not sure yet. I'd like to remain focused and concept album-like (conceptual?) if possible.

Saving Caesar with unspectacular style and skill, the Plain Praetorian proffers pedestrian protection, gaunt and gauntleted guardianship, and a plethora of prose, poetry, and plays depicting his experiences through anachronism and fantastical, phalanxical fiction alike.

Welcome.

This is Pedestrian Protection, proffered by the Plain Praetorian. It's like an archery range of words, in that its central purpose is to provide me with practice writing. May my compositions and creations strike keen, deadly, and true.

Pedestrians (like the one at the beginning of this post) indicate ranting and rambling, swords imply poetry and perhaps prose, and shields are an exhibition of vignettes, drama, and dialogue.

Enjoy.