And a Star Was Born - Boris Salvador

This was Boris's introduction, written back in 2001 when we watched a lot of Boogie Nights and Boris had aspirations that he might write more than two pieces for the site. Big dreams for a little guy. Good thing I don't get bitter over broken promises, or I might hold some resentment towards that son of a bitch. -KV

AND A STAR WAS BORN
Boris Salvador

It came to me in a dream one night. Whether it is of divine origins or merely the bad-tempered grumbling of a stomach incensed over a THC induced late night snack of two corndogs and several cans of pear juice I cannot say. (mmm… pear juice) It isn't even important where the name came from, rather it is its existence that is relevant. A name such as this is not formed or created, it is realized. It is perfection resolved in the unending chaos that is this life and conferred upon one worthy to bear its essence. A man who can match, in intrinsic power, the name which is so rightfully his. A man who can bear the weight of the magenta neon-lighted sign that this moniker requires. A man who will not be burned by white hot filaments, which infused with a power heretofore unknown, burst free of structured glass and sing unto the heavens in their rapturous demise. I am that man. I am Boris Salvador.

Do not worry I have not forgotten the little people.

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Words in a Semi-Specific Order by Boris Salvador

When I first read this poem, I thought Boris was making fun of the way I write poetry. I still think so. -KV

Words in a Semi-Specific Order


Like paper rain drops falling on the road,
Running gold tears of something that is defiantly not gold.
I fly amongst a purple mountain's majestic view of golden plains of something that is certainly not gold.
So suck in air to breathe Mr. Tangerine man.
Because we are all just taking up space.
Space like a ring around a ball whose gases lie outside
Like a forgotten blade of grass in a lawn of pink flamingoes and ceramic munchkin idols.
Praying to a golden sun that is most assuredly not golden.
And taking up space,
Space like a line preceding
"The End"
And anteceding a psuedo poem that while being incredibly nonsensical and truly meaning nothing
Manages to sound like coffee house fodder
Pleasing the Sophistos.

The Space

"The End"

By Boris Cougar Salvador

I am Boris Salvador

"Boris" was one of the original voices on the brothel, and this is his profile. It is also one of the few things he ever got around to writing. We all were a little pretentious back then, but Boris was slightly more than 'a little.' - KV

I Am Boris Salvador
Boris Salvador

It came to me in a dream one night. Whether it is of divine origins or merely the bad-tempered grumbling of a stomach incensed over a THC induced late night snack of two corndogs and several cans of pear juice, I cannot say. It isn't even important where the name came from, rather, it is its existence that is relevant.

A name such as this is not formed or created, it is realized. It is perfection resolved in the unending chaos that is this life and conferred upon one worthy to bear its essence. A man who can match, in intrinsic power, the name which is so rightfully his. A man who can bear the weight of the magenta neon-lighted sign that this moniker requires. A man who will not be burned by white hot filaments, which infused with a power heretofore unknown, burst free of structured glass and sing unto the heavens in their rapturous demise. I am that man.

I am Boris Salvador.