Another creative game

[Pompey Bum]

It is with only a slight sense of giddiness, hysteria brought on by excessive grief, no doubt, that I inform the LitNet world that our beloved poet Lykren entered Immortality today; and after asking several angels out, was informed that he was sweet but they were busy. Lykren's cause of death is still being investigated, although police have not ruled an overdose of gentle whimsy, perhaps mixed with a bottle of two of youthful angst. Lykren's encyclopedic knowledge of music, art, and literature was probably only matched by the raw but subtle power of his verse. I say "probably" because I never saw any of it, did you? But his song will echo always in our hearts. He was a truly good man, and such are scarce in this world. Fly now, poet! We will laugh together again some day.

[North Star]

I am sad to inform fellow members of the eruption of Eyjafjallajökull in Iceland, in whose vicinity our well tolerated member Pompey Bun was reciting, when he was buried in volcanic ash. He had written the great Icelandic novel of the 21st century after being there for only a fortnight. Sadly, the manuscript was destroyed by the ash. He has retold it to the residents of Valhalla, though.

[Pompey Bum]

It is with shock and dismay that I report the tragic passing of North Star, the grandson of Ringo Starr, who was eaten alive during the recent reindeer attacks that have plagued Santa's Kingdom all season. North was the first LitNetter to hail from Santa's remote industrial outpost, and brought a fresh perspective to our lives, even if none of us had really ever heard of Pentii Saarikoski. Nakemiin, North, and kiitos! We won't forget you!

[Lykren]

Pause, friends, and reflect; for our comrade, known to us only by the moniker 'North Star,' has ceased to be our guiding light. Whilst gathering cloudberries one fine Finnish morn, and humming Schnittke's Concerto Grosso softly to himself, the effects of a Gyromitra esculenta specimen suddenly caught up with him; though they were cooked, it was not enough. Memorial services will be held on Sunday; present will be a variety of pop stars whom he could have dated, and the walls of the Church will be decorated with the Thomas Kinkaide paintings he never spoke of, but was surely fond of.

[Pompey Bum]

A tragic case of J-pop toxicity is devastating a small community of well read Internet weirdos this evening. Lykren, a young poet and sometime hipster, was discovered earlier today on the floor of an undisclosed karaoke parlor, repeatedly muttering "PONPON way way way, PONPON way," and occasionally adding, "Hooray!" Witnesses state that as the end neared, the young man raved deliriously of transparent plastic miniskirts with little flowers on them and brightly colored stuffed animals of indeterminate species. Mr. Lykren was a fixture at the Literature Network Internet site. "We tried to warn him about what perky Japanese girls could do to his health," insisted a site friend and pompous, moralizing classicist who asked not to be identified, "but after Flavor of Life his soul was gone."

"At least he died with a smile on his face!" added an young Canadian, dressed for some reason as a hobo.

[North Star]

[Pentti Saarikoski]



I weep for Lykren—he is dead!
No more poetry flows
From his head.

His mortal coil
is stored
in the shed.

He disappeared in the eve of spring.
The books were broken, the book-stores deserted.
Poor chap - he never read the I Ching.

[Pompey Bum]

[[i]Pentti

Yeah, yeah. At least it doesn't have the two dots.

[North Star]

Yeah, yeah. At least it doesn't have the two dots.

It does the way you spelled it

[Lykren]

Two members of the notorious literature club 'LitNet' were found dead on opposite sides of the world this morning. Mr. Star of Finland and the unfortunately named Mr. Bum were both victims of overly-strenuous translation tasks, Mr. Star's being to explain the meaning of the word epäjärjestelmällistyttämättömyydellänsäkään to his American counterpart, and Mr. Bum's to communicate the essence of σωφροσύνη to his Nordic partner-in-crime. Investigations are currently being conducted safely in Esperanto.

[Clopin]

Finnish wunderkind found dead in the wake of a heated debate about the nature of reality with a soon to be identified American subjectionalist. Witnesses have stated that after asserting the reality of an objective material world, North Star became confused and disorientated while participating in his daily chores and artistic endeavours; "if my eyes aren't real how can mirrors be real?" he was often heard to remark quite profoundly as he swayed back and forth in the sauna. Though a bespectacled classicist attempted to alleviate the Borgesian philosophical queries (raised in our beloved star's mind by the aforementioned American) with suggestions of good, solid, reading material (Plutarch, Cicero, Thucydides, erc) it was to no avail, and our North Star succumbed to the absolute undefinable nature of reality by spontaneously combusting on April 24, 2015. Surely he will be missed and his passing will serve as a reminder to all of us about the dangers of philosophizing on disreputable message boards.

[Pompey Bum]

A knowledgable art, music, and literature aficionado was found dead today due to an apparent hospital mix-up. The native of Northern Europe attempted to admit himself to an American health clinic, complaining of a high fever, and adding, "I'm Finnish."

"Nonsense!" the receptionist replied, "You'll be right as rain in no time."

"No, no," the ailing intellectual insisted, "I'm Finnish! I'm Finnish!"

"Look Mr. North Star," the receptionist replied more officiously, "lots of people here are as sick as you are, and you don't hear them carrying on like that!"

North Star was ejected from the hospital for alleged hypochondria, and subsequently expired from his condition.

Eeva Liisa Manner could not be reached for comment.

[Lykren]

He was, and then he was not. Noted gender essentialist Clopin has passed away, no longer having the funds to feed himself after binge-spending on Penguin Classics and designer shoes which, it must be said, were rather ugly. The funeral was well-attended, until mourners passed close enough by the open coffin to observe his admittedly handsome, but sartorially foul and dingy appearance.

A memorial melee tournament will be held next Friday; please bring your copies of Chekhov for the group read-aloud. Ex-girlfriends need not come.

[North Star]

Eeva-Liisa Manner? Where did you drag her name up? She expired in 1995, so no wonder there..


Fellow forumites, it is my sad and solemn duty to inform you of the passing of Clopin.
I hardly knew him, but to him badminton was 'real fun', and he read a lot of Calvin and Hobbes
And he also liked to buy clothes, but on the internet. I don't know if that is really shopping.

He liked to hear French girls speak, but he could not abide French men's speech.
I am reasonably sure that he would have preferred a high-pitched screech.

[Pompey Bum]

Civil liberties advocate but slave to fashion Clopin has perished in a cataclysmic wardrobe malfunction. Police say the mishap occurred when Mr. Clopin's shirt achieved consciousness and actually ironed him. Alas, it seems that being dressed to kill is a two-way street! Civil libertarians formed an ad hoc committee in response to the crisis, but immediately voted to disband. Sorry, old joke. Despite Clopin's rationalist outlook, his friends agree that he has moved on to a better Canada, where the women are all buxom and the taxes all flat. His shirt remains at large.

[Clopin]

Lacerations Send Young Weaboo to the Morgue!

Was the biggest headline today in the controversial Santa Barbara Herald as local Japanese culture fanatic Lykren unfortunately passed away due to blood loss sustained from massive lacerations to his right arm and hand when he put his fist through a computer monitor after losing a game of Chess to a well known Canadian genius. Upon arriving at the hospital, witness testimony suggests that Lykren could have been treated had he not encountered an exceptionally pretty Asian nurse at the reception desk. When asked whether he needed emergency treatment, Lykren laughed it off, and made utterances to suggest that it was "no big deal" and that he was just "hanging out in the area" before backing away slowly while nodding his head. Once he had left the hospital Lykren entered a cafe where another beautiful girl served him an espresso before asking him in a shocked tone whether he needed her to call an ambulance. "Y...ou too" were his last words.