NEAL SHULMAN WROTE THIS

NEAL SHULMAN WROTE THIS

IT IS MY MAY PROJECT JOURNAL

PLEASE ENJOY
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Dear reader,

Are you comfy? If not, light a candle. Turn off the lights. Set your computer monitor to dim. Nestle into your favorite leather armchair. Take a bite of your favorite candy bar. Gaze at some modern art. Are you ready?

Please allow me to tell you a tale. It is one without dragons or castles, but rather one starring a lone knight and a sole book of Mac.

It was a Thursday, the eighth of May, on a day not unlike today. On such a day a boy left home to become a man, as many did back in those times. An hour after dawn he rose, fed himself, brushed his follicles, and entered his black wagon to partake on a drive (or really, a ride) on which few have ventured and lived. The village of Sou-Lard was naught but a journey, and a journey it was! An hour's half was spent aboard the mighty black steed, its spokes turning slowly but steadily on the slowly-deteriorating path to a land beyond the horizon of his fellow apprentices under the mighty sage, known only by his pseudonym of John Burroughs. His fellow worksmen had been sent far and wide, some to lands only a stork's flight from Sou-Lard and some to a field known only as "Chester", hundreds of miles West, where only the farmpeople found themselves a home. 

And on that first day, that Thursday, before stepping into his midnight chariot, our knight Neal dressed himself in a buttoned-down neatly tucked under his belt and under his trousers. He strapped his time-piece to his wrist and, with a breath whose gusto could shake trees, stepped into the mobile. 

His foot firmly pressed down into his steed, our lone knight made his way into the city's depths. Old Road 64-40 took him down, down, to 44 High Way, down to the Avenue of Park and finally onto a street known only to the locals– the South Broad Way (inaccurately named, funnily enough, due to it's thin lanes of traversal). 

Having bumbled down Old Road 64-40 and the 44 High Way, his steed was exhausted. Neal, having arrived at his destination, parked the humble chariot and tied the collar of the horse twice-round to the nearest lamp-pole. 

And with a whistle and a wink

He started to think

"Whats this?" he to himself said

"My thoughts have turned to rhymes inside my head!"

"Either way, I must proceed"

and with that he left his noble steed

on the street to bake in the sun's glow–

to 200 degrees the car'd soon grow. 

He ventured inside, having met Erin once before

But now he hesitated outside the door.

His hand on the handle, his chest inflated,

he wondered what for him he'd really created!

With a sigh and a shake of his head,

he opened the door wide and led

each of his two feet, one left and one right

straight up to Erin, and caught her sight!

"Hello" he said, with a half smile

(his nervousness made him want to laugh a while)

and "hi there" she said back, with a grin

and led him past a Microfest bin

into a room large and wide,

with chains hanging and boxes inside,

some empty some full, some bright some dull. 

"We're not the most funded," Erin explained

(it wasn't hard to see; he didn't have to use his brain).

She walked him over in that box on Broadway

to a desk where he'd be sitting all day.

From his case, his laptop unsheathed

and, cord in hand, behind the desk he reached.

His three-pronged-plug had pouted lips

For everywhere were two-slot outlets!

Erin and he, he and Erin

thought for a while 'bout their needsome errand!

There was a triple-hole outlet across a desk and a half more

But the length of it from his desk needed to be less and not more!

Suddenly with a gasp and a clamor

Erin jumped and Neal asked "What IS the matter?"

"An extension cord downstairs I know

but with me you must venture below!"

And with a shrug of shoulders down they went

down

   down

       down 

            to the Lift for Life basement. 

Through the labyrinth below they turned and they leaped 

amongst coffin-boxes tall and shadows that creeped.

Erin's hand plunged into a murky depth

Neal feared what would come next– death?

Instead she pulled from its corrugated seams by her thumnb

a writhing, wriggling mass of cords– or was it just one?

Erin pulled on one end of the orange snake

Neal watched nervously for Erin's sake

and finally the beast was freed from its tangle

wires coming out and in, at all angles!

The wretched beast was dragged up steps

And slowly away the darkness crept

as the stairway up filled with light

Neal nervously gnashed his teeth like bite bite bite.

Upstairs they went with naught but a leap

and dragged the whole way the orange heap

until they reached the tippity-top

and topped the final stair with a hippity-hop!

Neal sighed a breath of relief, returned to the ground

away from the room of scratchy dark sounds.

Erin plugged in the orange cord and Neal the white,

and a breath of relief: ahh, the charging LED's light!

An Apple icon lone and bare

appeared on the screen without a care

as if Neal and Erin hadn't toiled

what seemed like hours in air that boiled.

And soon the famed icon did give way

and the desktop icons loaded, ready to play.

Soon an orange Ai leaped, almost topsy-turvy

And the neurons of Neal's brain went wobly-wurbly!

He soon began clicking, clacking with glee

typing and such, the occasional Apple E.

He clicked, ticked, tocked, and typed

he scrolled, he wheeled, he clocked, and he swiped

all to build an invitation themed

for superheroes, trying not to get creamed

by the confusing how-to's and what-not's

and that's-who's and lug nuts

of making a vector design–

the scope of which was NOT benign!

So Neal muttered and sputtered and held his breath

he stammered and smattered and took a moment's rest

and he did so for days upon days clicking and typing

until one day he looked at what he'd been hyping!

He saw something of which he could be proud

something about which the Gym could brag loud!

And don't let me forget you to remind

of how Neal took Illustrator off his mind:

every other day at noon,

Neal stood up from typing and soon

walked step by step out of the door

and he turned and walked into a hamburger store.

The founder named Billy, the hamburgers tasty–

Here Neal could be silly, Neal could be lazy.

It was a nice break from a click-filled day,

He could relax, the quick grilled way!

Sometimes Neal ordered hungrier than mein Fuehrer,

A patty melt or a fresh-cooked burger!

After the second trip 'round they knew him by name,

and they knew mayo on fries was his game.

One time the lady there "a YouTube" she showed him,

but always the fries with mayonnaise they'd load 'em!

And one time Neal tried, he tried as he might

to walk down the street for a donutty-bite.

Past the Subway protesters he bounded

Past their scratchy beards and the messages sounded,

Neal swung open the door to the shop of nutty-dough

but then they said "No cash? Farewell, yo!"

Neal's heart was sunk, it was indeed!

He'd walked all this way with all this speed!

No matter how much he'd wanted to plead,

"No cash, no donut!" That was the creed.

So on that fateful day Neal began to backtrack

walking past Muncie's and all their knicknacks.

Neal returned to the address numbered one eight zip zip

on South Broadway where inspired teens yell "hip hip!"

Another thing Neal did with a smile

was tap into the river of soda like the Nile

Boxes there were and boxes aplenty,

relaxing and drinking bubbly sodas by the twenty!

And so now as we're at almost fourteen hundred words

we must wrap up what thus far we've heard.

Our tale began with knights and battle,

and Neal's trusty black car was compared to cattle.

Technically just one, that being a steed,

but not knowing the difference is something I'll cede.

Maybe Neal's story will inspire you to grow

a small business making invitations, although

be warned that Illustrator is a tricky horse

no matter how hard you try, you can't force

the Pen tool to flow and Gradient to fill

whatever you see in your mind's good will,

bur rather it takes some know-how and TIME

to ascend the ladder of progress and climb

up 

   up

      up

          to the tippity-top of the peak

and you'll look up-wise and soon will shriek

because at the top you will see

a whole different mountain, tall as a tree

looking below you'll see could-have's and would-be's

but whether you're on land or sea

keep your eyes up, up at the trees!