Ecstasy Painting
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Men Without Paint
In order to successfully complete the Certificate Program for Desktop Publishing at CUNY in New York, I had to prove proficiency in the layout skills I was taught. I chose to create a magazine column layout with a feature story and images. The exam did not call for real text. Dummy text was acceptable, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave it there. I decided to write an entire fictional piece to be the host home for my layout presentation. Images, text, magazine title, sidebars, all fictionally created. Needless to say, the writing required far more work, than the design. Of course, I got an A!.;)
PS: All the images were culled from random locations and not used with permission. I apologize to anyone who felt exploited. In fact, I know the man on the cover of my story was/is a famous singer songwriter. That’s an album cover of his. The image of him was so perfect for my storyline, I had no choice but to use it. I wish I could remember his name. Please let me know if you recognize him. Its been driving me crazy. Thank you! 😉
COPYRIGHT © MICHAEL BAILEY | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Soul Mates
His Personal Ad
Her Personal Ad
All content COPYRIGHT © MICHAEL BAILEY | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
I’ll Take the Chicken Fingers!
(Just read it…all. I promise it will grow on you.)
COPYRIGHT © MICHAEL BAILEY | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Let It Snow (Warning: Potential Offensive Language)
“Oh the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we’ve no place to go,
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
My Ass! Get that shit outta here!
Get that motherfucking white dirt black slag shit crap outta my face. Fuck this!!
It doesn’t show signs of stopping,
And I’ve bought some corn for popping,
The lights are turned way down low,
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
No! Noooooo! I hate it! It sucks!! No!! DO NOT LET IT SNOW! I REPEAT.
DO NOT LET IT SNOW!! SHIT!!! AGAIN??! FUCK!!
The fire is slowly dying,
And, my dear, we’re still good-bying,
But as long as you love me so,
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
Fuck that!! I been digging outta this frozen shit for weeks. My feet are cold. My hands are raw. And my car’s covered in ice, AGAIN!
Hey snow. Eat me!!
And fuck you!
COPYRIGHT © MICHAEL BAILEY | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Online Mystery
Good Morning Mystery Woman,
Tis, I. The man who writes to your silent voice. The man who loves your bee-stung upper lip, your tousled hair, your enigmatic gaze. Yes, once again, I venture forth into the land of real and illusion, probing for life from the digital darkness. Wondering how long it will take to discover the truth behind your words and your image.
Yes! Tis I! The man who himself lives in a world of real and illusion. Each day choosing a path that leads him towards you or away from you.
Yes! Tis I! The man who fosters the faith and resolve to believe in your existence. Not only for himself, but for others around the world who strive like he does to discover diamonds in stone, gold in mud, silver in the clouds, pearls in the sea, flowers in weeds…
YES! YES! TIS I!
I, who waits. I, who wonders. What will happen to me? Will I survive the emotional turbulence that has yet to visit my heart when I realize you are not who you present. You are not the engagingly attractive visage with the eyes that look beyond those who stand before you. You are someone else…something else.
My time runs as the sand flows down the hourglass. I can not linger in your world much longer, lest I turn to dust and waste away.
I fire one last flare hoping you will see.
To come out from the bush and say hello to me.