Introducing Writer Jo Wu

Posted: September 17, 2013 in Uncategorized
By submitted writer Jo Wu. Click for direct link to her blog page.


By Submitted writer Jo Wu

By Submitted writer Jo Wu

Jo Wu is one of the writers we featured in the July issue of Propulsion Magazine. Please click the photo for direct link to her Blog or just enjoy this exert from Cyanide and Resonance by Jo Wu:

She never ventured out from behind the curved walls of her glass bell jar. Temptation to climb out from beneath the glass eluded her. Time also escaped her. Without the aid of daylight, moonlight, or clocks, the little girl could never pinion the number of days or years upon paper with ink. But that was a moot point: she did not own paper nor pens. While other little girls had dolls, stuffed bears, or music boxes, all she possessed was a gold molecular model of the organic compound Cyanamide. Day after day, she would stake three gold balls, one engraved with the letter C and the other two engraved with the letter N, with six gold metal sticks, which represented chemical bonds. She would also stab one, two, or even three gold paddles into the “Carbon” or “Nitrogen” atoms to represent the electron lone pairs. Lone pairs. How could electrons be lonely if they were in pairs? Perhaps it was because they were isolated to one atom, unable to reach out to another atom, like sailors stranded on an island. Years, if they could be quantified, slipped past the smooth shins of her legs like snaking mist. Whenever the girl looked up from her molecular model, her wide eyes betrayed the disgust that molested her esophagus with rising tides of acid. Crowds of pink flesh, with arms and legs like hers, thrashed in the space that surrounded her bell jar. She saw wooden barrels, as obese as pot-bellied men, sloshing waterfalls of scintillating liquid down hundreds of throats, drenching skin and hair with inebriated stickiness. These naked crowds may or may not partake in burning leaves they wrapped in paper, inhaling the vaporized toxins. Sometimes, individuals who chose to partake in these burnings crippled their intelligence with alcohol that thinned bloodstreams. They would ignite a match, only to incinerate their own flesh. Without the protection of her bell jar, the girl would have choked on the acrid fumes, the mergings of saccharine human flesh and coma-inducing smoke. She stuck one bond between the gold “Carbon” atom and a “Nitrogen” atom, and two paddles in the outermost “Nitrogen.” She felt comforted by the control she had over the smooth metal beneath her fingertips. Thud! A woman pinioned beneath a man crashed into the bell jar. The glass was not affected, but the girl thought her ears would shatter due to the unceasing moans, grunts, and screams. Even when the girl curled into a ball to try and sleep, with her arms clamped over her ears, the floor beneath her rumbled due to the thrashing of bare bodies all around her. A man glanced up to leer at the girl through the glass. His sweat-drenched bulbous-breasted partner still writhed beneath him. “Hey!” The man’s grin revealed yellow teeth. “Want to join?” The girl curled her legs tighter to her chest. “You little freak. That’s what you virgins all are. Freaks!” Splish! Splash! The girl opened her eyes to witness semen, like dirt-mixed snow, drip down the glass walls, the way one would see rain running down a window. Male ejaculation was shortly joined by what resembled splatters of scarlet paint. No, it was too viscous to be paint. Blood erupted out of the nether regions of pregnant women, like lava out of volcanoes. Within minutes, bloodshed was followed by the high-pitched wails of babies. The girl pressed herself against the glass, her palms and nose leaving imprints. In the midst of corruption, these cherubic infants, with their round cheeks, wide eyes, and velvet lips that emitted giggles, were like rose buds that peeked out at the world from behind tangles of thorny vines, wondering if they had potential to bloom into great beauties. But the girl’s smile vanished when she saw these babies drown in puddles of alcohol, wither away when exposed to toxic smoke, had their bones broken by large-footed brawny men who took women by force, or neglected by their mothers, who could care less to witness their offspring degenerate into skeletons. She removed one paddle from the outermost “Nitrogen” and added a bond between the two “Nitrogens” to create a triple bond. She then stuck a paddle onto the “Carbon.” The babies that managed to survive and mature kept to themselves in corners, like modest maidens. They cast their eyes to the floor and cocooned themselves in blankets. However, attention was inevitable. The crowds would drag them out from their corners. Once more, the girl broke and reformed bonds. She pulled the paddle out of the “Carbon” and formed a double bond between the “Carbon” and a “Nitrogen.” The outermost Nitrogen now had two paddles, representing two lone pairs. A drop of water fell from somewhere high above. When it smashed to the floor outside the bell jar, all movements from the crowds ceased. The girl abruptly witnessed naked bodies collapsing within gaseous clouds. Cyanide. Outside, flesh melted into others’ flesh, bones snapped like twigs, flammable alcohol combusted, and wails were silenced by sweeping oblivion. When all was still, and the girl’s hair became white from what she witnessed, water droplets fell. One by one at first, and soon like sheets of rain. The bodies disappeared. Before long, the bell jar was bobbing upon an ocean. Years of lack of desire to leave was replaced by the instant push of her hand against a wall. A glass door, once invisible, now yielded to her touch. A massive ship, with a maidenhead in the shape of a smiling mermaid, floated towards her. Its gold and violet flags fluttered like old friends whose hair rustled in the wind when they ran to greet her. She could not see who stood aboard the deck, but a rowboat adorned with fresh flowers was lowered for her. She climbed aboard with a smile.


Smiles glare through starlight flash. The record drags to a nauseating blur. Who? What? How? Did? Why after Why after Why after Why passes through the haze, and all the answers fail to surface. For a moment things become clear as eyes collide and a question of defeat comes crashing in.

“Is it true that your addiction to illicit substances is what caused your partner, Marcum Nate, to sell out The Black Project?”

Vision fades to a dark sparkly tube. The tingle numbs the lips and severs the spine. Collapse comes easy as your legs just disappear. The last thing you feel is the final failing effort of the ringing in your head.

“We are surrounded by the beast of influence that holds our world hostage. It draws in a world wide audience who seem to react solely off of information transmitted to us by any means available. We are told what to wear, what to drive, and what to eat. We are persuaded on who to vote for, which way to turn, and which God to believe in. The entertainment of violence, sex, and drug abuse is purchased as soon as it is available to the masses. The lust for fashion is driven by car commercials, internet blogs, and popularity magazines such as GQ, or the modern version of Cosmopolitan. We are all under the influence of this addiction; and addiction is in high demand.

The influence of this beast on our sociological behavior has turned us from a society of interest, to a society of consumption. Though we are the one’s who create our prime time entertainment, we are also the one’s who are changed by it. As a society we feed off of the desire for information, like a junkie tying off a fix. s we receive that information we adapt to it, and become the information as we see it on the television. Our sense of reality becomes obscured.”

ANN creeps along the streets of the Z-7 District briefly inspecting litter piles of flood damaged lumber. Lining the sidewalks like garbage cans,  refrigerators are wrap sealed shut so the toxic fumes from the mold remains trapped inside. Every third building is seemingly condemned. The only signs of life are the occasional lantern lit windows peaking in on the unfortunate survivors with nowhere else to go. A crossing bell warns of a train that will never come to pass. The loud crash in the distance startles ANN as dogs begin to wail at the scuffle.

“Only a matter of time before the machines come strolling by for inspection. I must find her before they come.”

The Z-7 District is a quarantined haven for the forgotten and fearful. This is the stomping grounds for the elite underground. One of the few remaining refuges where the underground anarchist can get a good night sleep with very little hassle. The curfew keeps most locked inside a cozy quarter but as long as they stay inside, no one will try to come in. A cigarette dangles between ANN’s lips as she nestles inside her hoodie; more of an attempt at avoiding light than shielding from the cold. The night is cool but the mid summer breeze floods the streets with its taunting wrath.

The sound of laughter echoes from a nearby dwelling. ANN quickens her stride as to locate the commotion. Suddenly the sound of doors slamming and an engine revving up to start are accompanied by the sounds of men calling out indistinct orders. She tosses her cigarette and quickly heads down an alley to avoid being seen. There is no certainty that the direction of what is sure to be Militia Authority will not be near ANN’s current path. The nearby laughter continues and seems to elevate in intensity.

“Why must everything go wrong all at once? A simple disagreement can lead to the fall of dominoes that clatter in their passing. There are certain things that can not be fixed with a needle and a spoon. Too often the victim is the only survivor at the end of the world’s catastrophic meltdown. They find themselves left standing in a wasteland of nothing that has burned away in the breeze. Injecting celebration for the sadly unseen chance to get it all together. Make it right. Just make it tighter. There’s a vain in there somewhere. Just pull it. Make it bleed, that’s right. Just a little at a time. FUCK!! I told her the streets were not safe. Why would she go out at this time of night? I think I hear them coming.”

Her footsteps pierce the nerves with fear of being discovered. ANN quickly dashes to the end of the alleyway. The light at the end of the tunnel like passage is a good indicator that she may have found the source of the laughter. Her stride nearly halts before leaving the safety of the shadows. As she peers around the corner she secures the gas mask like face shield over her mug and pulls down her goggles. The Militia Authority has a nasty habit of tossing gas grenades and bathing people in mace without nod or warning.

The laughter resumes with fare well chants. As the sound of a door slamming centers ANN’s focus, the roaring machine of the Militia Authority passes by the adjacent end of the alley. Panic overwhelms when ANN notices her friend coming down the steps of a tattered home. The Militia Authority is coming. She must call out to her and warn her to stay in the shadows.

ANN stumbles as she attempts to dash out of the alley way compromising her own cover. Before she can get to her feet the machine had halted in front of her friend. Militia Authority soldiers are fleeing the machine and surrounding her friend. ANN’s voice fails her as she attempts to cry out for her friend to run. One of the soldiers shoves ANN’s friend to the ground as the other’s laugh teasingly. ANN tears away her face shield and runs towards the scuffle carelessly.

One of the five soldiers turn to notice ANN dashing hastily in their direction. Before he has time to comprehend the desperate attack he is pounced upon. Screams of bloody hell pour from a seemingly small and feeble girl as she claws and tears at the soldiers skin. Her friend makes a sudden effort to regain her footing but is quickly knocked back down. The butt of a fully automatic assault rifle ends the attempt, and the girl is quickly drug away. ANN screams and dashes towards the men carrying away her friend and is suddenly tackled.

The tears of fear and anger fill ANN’s face. Her stomach scrapes the pavement as the soldiers strap her wrists and feet together and drag her towards the machine. Another machine enters the scene and her unconscious friend is tossed inside and carried away. ANN lets out a final scream and smashes her own face into the pavement.

“Can you hear the heart beat? The echo of a tone that’s pulse is perfectly in sync? It feels like a whirlwind breezing through the fluorescent scope of confused madness.  The pulse. It’s driving in my head like a mal splitting wood. Give it a rest. Why am I moving so fast? Lying on my back on a gurney is compromising my ability to flee. Strapped down. Am I in a hospital? Why am I waking up like this? What are these…who are these silhouettes  that are coming into focus? My, that’s an awfully big needle you have there. The sting of the juice now silence in my head. Am I certain of my awareness?”

“Take it easy with that stuff, we don’t want to turn her into a vegetable. Not yet anyway”



          “We are such a disease lost in the indigo glow of the shopping network; submissive to ourselves and our conditioning. Why would we fight it anyway? We eat too much fast food to feel like takin’ that walk. Why can’t we just take a pill to fix all of that? You know the commercials you see on T.V. for whatever the latest pharmaceutical that cures you of infections, coughs, STDs, headaches, depression, or what the fuck ever? Why can’t they sell a pill that can desensitize us from this ridiculous cluster fuck of breeding imbeciles that gorge themselves with fiction and purge themselves of intellect?

It’s just hard for me to believe we’ve come this far and caused this much shit, and there are still people who don’t see what we’ve done. This world is suffering at its own expense. It should be put out of its misery. There are still some worth saving though. People who are smart enough to build it back up again, and make it better than it was before. Something has to give here. We can’t continue this stagnant masquerade as we are.

Where the hell is Leigh? She’s been gone a lot longer than anticipated. It’s after two a.m., walking back now would be too risky. They could pick her up. They’ve been trying to find us for some time now. We cannot afford to blow our cover.”  Thinking to herself, ANN takes a deep pull off of her cigarette, and sighs as she exhales. “Aw Fuck! I’m gonna have to go find her.” ANN collects her smokes, puts on her dark hooded trench coat, and cautiously walks out the door…..


Take a look around. She dances in the shadows, she floats in the light. She is a mess of animated nightmares that exists consciously, but often slips by unnoticed. Or do we see? Can you see her? She takes on many forms. She puts on different faces, she dances in many lights. Her eye’s will draw you in and pierce you through the soul. Taunting. Sadistic. Her twisted glare will show you what it is like to be insane. Smiling, she pisses down the backs of the ignorant. Laughing she spits in the faces of those who told her she was crazy. The same ones who made her crazy.

Tonight on What The Fuck. He was a king, she was a queen. It’s a mattress made in Heaven. See the story unfold as they give birth to twins on Lonely Bed Blind Date.

Also presenting our newest game show That Damn Stoner. Where contestants are asked the most trivial of all stoner questions. ” For One Million Dollars. What Were We Just Talking About?” Will our contestant win the million, or will he lose it all by selling a sack to an undercover narc? On, That Damn Stoner!

And Now A Word From Our Sponsor…” Tired of feeling like your taste buds are in lock up, and begging to get out? Try Hobo Prison Gum. Its A Burst In Your Mouth! Also try our new coconut flavored experience. Toilet Bubble Butt Cum Gum.”….. Now back to Channel 4 News.

“I’m constantly being hunted. I think they are the government. They are trying to get me. Some of them try to act like doctors, so they can try to get information from me. I’ve only met one person that I trust, and she has stayed with me, and been through everything I’ve been through. We always go together. I love her, she is my best friend. The so called doctors always found a way to separate us. They drugged us up, then locked us in different rooms, where we couldn’t communicate to each other. They wanted to see if we’d get our stories mixed up. Somehow we managed to establish contact. We developed a plan for our escape. If you are reading this you know that our plan succeeded. We are now planning to make contact with people of our kind, to alert them of the army that is coming to destroy us. We have to stop this.”

A Hungarian microchip has been tested by the F.D.A. and is said to be a miracle cure, for radioactive food. President and C.E.O. of Kaht Zusi Ahmtinkin , states that “the stunning breakthrough in fine television cuisine will set the standard, for all frozen meat bi-products around the globe.”

Conspiracy theorist speculate, that, “This is just a way for them to unlawfully tap our food. The Patriot Act has made all of us a terrorist. Even the fatass’ that sit around and do nothing but eat in front of the T.V. Save the Platypus!!!!!”

Shortly after this outburst of protest against the Hungarian Microchip, thousands of people marched through D.C. In effort to rescue the Platypus. Adopting the Duck as their official mascot. As of now, no violence has broke out, but we will remain on the scene, for more updates.

In other news, today was the 25th anniversary picnic of the St. Mattress Sunday Club. Participants enjoyed Bar-B-Que Salad Fries, Live Puppet Shows, and an Upside Down Contest. Little Jimmy Rantatt came in first for standing on his head, for over 3 hours and 15 minutes.

“I just stood on my head. Wuddn’t that hard. I got upside down and stayed there. Made me a little dizzy tho.”
All proceeds from this picnic will go to benefit Molly Maycee Meemerma’s Needle Point Group, held every Thursday at the Come Bowl. Marietta’s only bowling alley.”

“We decay under the crust of our own ignorance as we sit and try to decipher the code of things not meant to be cracked. Is an egg supposed to be a chicken, or a tasty breakfast delight. Perhaps an example of your brain on drugs? Everything has a purpose. How many things have multiple purpose? What is the purpose of purpose? Why does everything seem so damn interesting, yet senseless at the same time? The madness of this world surrounds our souls, and it is within us to spend our money on it. If ignorance is bliss then loneliness is crazy. Solitude is peaceful. Happiness is a strain. Compassion is gluttony. Meat is murder. War is opportunity. Death is hope. Fuck. Just change the channel already.”

“A totally irregular coincidence has taken place inside the chemical make up of our fabricated society. Air and water have raised to 75 cents and you better act fast. supplies are running low. Flat tires around the country remain melted piles of rubber. Radiators are overheating and no steam is accumulated.

There also seems to be a very small colony of creatures known as ants that have strategically planned an attack on U.S. soil. Cover all your fruit baskets and lock up your sugar cubes. We don’t have any information as of yet that will tell us when this attack will take place. Try to just stay on high alert until further information is gathered. New research studies are showing small holes in our atmosphere caused by rising flood lines. Apparently it wasn’t a good idea to build that space station on the moon, was it Sharlane?”

“Hahaha,! Apparently not Mark. Thousands of people were left without oxygen, but we still have plenty of gas to fill our SUVs! Taking a quick glance at our weather forecast it’s going to be mostly cloudy throughout the week, with a vague chance of it ever getting clear. Nuclear fallout clouds are moving in from the east bringing in heavy winds and severe thunderstorms. If you’re living in the C-5 District, you might want to take extra care on your way home from work it looks like voltage fluctuations will be extremely high. Back to you Mark.”

Well that’s all for today’s top stories. Tune in tonight at 9 for more updates on terrorist attacks, and other useless crap.”