Phill_Lanuto's Xanga

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Mon, 09 Apr 2007 19:49:23 GMT

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Help Mikey Get His Girlfriend Back - I'm Sponsoring a Poetry Competition

Tue, 30 Jan 2007 17:55:48 GMT

I decided to sponsor a poetry competition on Booksie.com. My friend Mike broke up with his girlfriend and I'm looking for the best poem that he can use to try and get back together. The deadline is February 13. Yup, right before Valentine's Day. Don't say I don't try to help Mikey!!

I'm giving the winner $25. To find out more, check out my site on Booksie. It's free to enter, of course.

http://www.booksie.com/phillip_lanuto_iii

So go ahead, spread the love, maybe win $25, and help out Mike. God, he needs it.

Phil

Xanga Blogring

Fri, 08 Dec 2006 00:57:36 GMT

As many of you know by now, I belong to this cool website called Booksie where I've been publishing my novel Monarch. The book has been read by over 323 people so far so I'm well on my way of getting more exposure than the typical published novel. I've also received some good comments on how to make it better.

But that's not why I have posted. The site doesn't have much of a community feel, perhaps feeling that's already been done by sites like Xanga. So, I started a Xanga webring for all Booksie members. To join, click the link below. It's small so sign up and be among the elite few. Invite your friends to join. Have a party!

http://www.xanga.com/groups/group.aspx?id=2412849

Phil

Getting Back Into Gear

Thu, 30 Nov 2006 21:13:56 GMT

So far, I've posted the first fourteen chapters of Monarch on Booksie. I've slowed recently as I've become busier sorting through various things. It hasn't left me time to edit.

http://www.booksie.com/library/index.html/read/7

I've met so many nice people on Xanga and I've also started a Group for Booksie. It's a great site and I want to get more of my friends from Booksie here and vice-versa.

I think you can find the group on the left hand side of the screen.

Later,

Phil

Where's the photo?

Wed, 08 Nov 2006 02:44:38 GMT

I've been trying for about an hour to upload a photo so that my comments aren't just blank squares. Stick with me, I'll get it.

On another note, Monarch continues to do well. It's been at the top of the charts almost the entire month so far. Thanks for everone's comments and support.

On a related note, I've been thinking about how I want to publish Monarch beyond the web and think I've decided. I'll let you in on what I'm thinking next post.

Phil

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Thu, 19 Oct 2006 14:24:35 GMT

My story Monarch is doing well on Booksie. It's received 179 reads and 12 comments and is ranked as the #2 novel on the site. I can't seem to beat out another novel which has 534 reads. Please help support my book by chechking it out and giving it a read. If you like it, email the link to others who you think might like it. If you reallyl like it or have something to say leave a comment :).

http://www.booksie.com/library/index.html/read/7

Phil

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Tue, 10 Oct 2006 00:51:00 GMT

I've uploaded a new photo for Monarch. If you read a few chapters into the book you'll come to understand what it means.

Phil

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Thu, 05 Oct 2006 15:40:30 GMT

After visiting a few sites, I decided to post the first chapter of Monarch here also. I'm posting the rest at Booksie.com. Visit it on Booksie. The more people that read it and rank it there, the higher it goes in the rankings and the more visibility it will get. If you like it, sign up to a fan on there and you'll get updates when I post the next chapter. Thank for your support!

MONARCH by Phillip Lanuto III

Anger. He walked down the high school hallway and felt the anger inside of his veins, inside of his cells, inside of his entire body. His breathe was short and crisp, controlled, like the balls of his fist, coiled and ready to strike, to lash out with the anger. It was an anger that seemed to consume him at times and make the words and fists fly. It was directed at a world that produced other kids that could smile and laugh, look so happy and not feel the reality crushing down upon them. He saw a few of them by their lockers, getting books out and they moved away as he walked by. His thick boots hit the tiled floor and thudded, announcing his coming and sending the other students scurrying away. Like roaches being shown the light, he thought. Just like roaches. He enjoyed the fear he inspired, he enjoyed it immensely.

Anger. He could almost smell its stench as it wafted from the pores of his body. He was angry at a world that seemed to be driven by its own greed, oblivious to others and uncaring about their well being.

A student accidentally backed into him and he grabbed his arm and shoved him back into the locker. The boy was about to say something but held his tongue. He recognized the lithe form that continued walking down the aisle.

He turned a corner and stopped in front of his locker. He jerked it open and retrieved a book. The girl next to him moved away a step and he thought about looking at her, just looking at her to guage her reaction. He decided not to waste the time and slammed the locker closed.

Godamn them all! He wished he could put his fists through all of their soft little faces. He wanted to yank teeth and make them all feel the pain which burned inside of him. Make them look and realize what they tried so hard to ignore. And because they refused to look, because they couldn't possibly see he would drag them into his own hell.

He turned around and started walking down the corridor towards his class. He counted the lights slowly passing above him and was interrupted as someone bumped into him again.

The anger exploded. Twice in one morning was completely intolerable.

It was Martin, the little kid who limped because his father had sawed off his foot. The anger didn't care if the boy had three eyes and a head sticking out of his chest. Freaks were not spared his wrathe.

"Watch where you limp, fucking limpy." He shoved the boy back and prepared to walk on.

1.2

Martin had always wanted to be an astronaut. It was a dream lodged so deeply in his head that sometimes he had trouble concentrating in class. The teacher would be talking and her words would become a monotonous drone as he imaged the roar of the Tian IV rockets, felt the thrust push him back against his chair, and hear the excited voiced from mission control guiding and congratulating him onwards.

"Martin, Martin, are you listening to me?" Most teachers would say when they saw the look spread over his face. The class would laugh and Martin would feel humiliated. Later, someone from class would look down at his foot and say like a true adolscent.

"Moonboy was grounded again." In truth he was grounded forever. He walked down the corridor and wished he could glide like the other kids. Their strides were smooth even while his were jagged and awkward. He looked down at his damaged left leg. His father had accidentally run over it with a lawnmower when he was a child, leaving him partially crippled and denying him any chance of ever feeling the thrust of the rockets. He remembered visting Cape Canaveral and asking the tour guide about the astronauts.

"Oh there in the best condition son. Finest boys in the country. You have to be in top physical and mental condition to put on one of those spacesuits."

It was unfortunately a dream he didn't think he would ever realize. Ms. Leer, his English teacher saw him and walked over. He like her. She was perhaps the only teacher that understood and didn't intentionally try to embarass him for his daydreaming.

"Martin, I really enjoyed your paper, very well done." He liked her a lot and he suspected that if he was older the like would be stronger and directed towards other things.

"Thanks," he responded weekly and she smiled and walked into her classroom. He retrieved his books and as he turned to follow he bumped into someone.

"Watch where you limp, fuching limpy." Normally Martin would have taken the insult, turned his head in shame, and let Preston walk over him. He had done it many times. Today he didn't. Something snapped and suddently he was tired of being picked on and made the brunt of the school's jokes. He was tired of letting Preston and the others steam roll his self respect flat into the ground. And so he did something he never normally did and something his mother would have been aghast to hear, he swore:

"Fuck off Preston, just leave me alone." It happened very quickly. As Martin began to walk away, Preston grabbed his neck and shoved him against a back row of lockers. He hit them hard, sending icy fingers of pain up his back. It hurt tremendously but humiliation was what he felt. It bounced from one ear to another until his head was filled with careening pool balls of emotion.

"Fucking Limpy...You're grounded Moonboy...One step, shorter than the other..." Tears of rage and shame began to well up in his eyes.

The storm broke an instant later as he jumped at Preston. Preston reeled back in surprise and Martin chased after him with an uncoordinated flurry of blurred fists. The few punches that actually hit Preston only seemed to exacerbate his anger. He grabbed Dennis by his new shirt.

"Stupid, stupid Limpy. You're going to eat dirt now. Real, black, God stinking dirt." Preston slammed Martin onto the floor. He landed, splayed out like a starfish, and tipped over a trashcan. Martin felt like his brain was being decoupled and shoved into the front pocket of his pants. A thin trickle of blood began to ooze out of his nose. Out of the tears he could see the crowd gathering around to watch the circus spectacle. A circle of torturers, cousins of the inquisition.

"Kick the shit out of the nerd, Preston."

"Make him pick up the trash with his mouth." Preston calmly went over to the trash and picked up a piece of carbon paper. He pointed it at Martin as if to say, "You and this carbon paper are getting a shotgun forcible marriage. Prepare to kiss the bride." Instead he said:

"You stupid fucking nerd. Don't ever mess with me again, understand?" Martin tried to get up but the crowd threw him back into the arena. Preston grabbed him and dragged him down. He could smell the bully. The stench of hate and loathing stung his nostrils and brought more tears to his eyes. How could someone hate so much? He struggled and tried to wriggle away but the grip was too strong. Preston positioned the sheet of carbon paper and grinded it into Martin's face so hard, Martin thought his nose was broken. When he was done, Martin numbly unglued the carbon paper from his face and looked up at the leering crowd.

"What going on out here?" Ms. Leer said as she burst through the circle. "Oh my God." Martin saw the pity in her eyes and new energy flooded into his body. It was fueled by a humiliation so deep that Martin was numb as he broke through the circle and ran down the hallway. He didn't hear Ms. Leer calling after him to stop before he burst through the big school doors. A slight sob burped up and a tear trickled down his blackened face.

Martin didn't think he would ever thaw out.

My Novel - Monarch

Thu, 05 Oct 2006 14:58:42 GMT

Hi everone,

I'm Phil. Welcome to my site. I am in the process of writing a novel called Monarch. I actually started it several years ago but finally got around to rewriting and finishing it. It's about a town that is being taken over by an evil force and how three kids (a bully, a nerd, and a shy beauty) lives intersect as the mayham ensues. There is lots of blood, carnage, etc. Give it a read and let me know what you think.

You can read it starting here.

I've published it on a new site I found called Booksie. It's pretty cool and free. You can leave comments and I'll respond. If you writer books, short stories, or poetry you might also want to check it out. It's free.

That's all for now. I hope to come back with more soon. Nice to be here!

Phil