Hello. I am Icarus Sun.
Depending on who you are, I either hate you, don't know you exist, or think you are the greatest thing since since the word 'bug.'
You are most likely not worth my time.
I like the internet, loud music and large amounts of money.
I like making friends over the internet. Expanding my world and such. I also lie complusively and insult my friends routinely. Get used to it.
Have a nice day and remember, Jesus wants to eat your eyes.
My FictionPress.Net Account
Yahoo Messanger: Icarus_Sun4
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
"Icarus Sun" was not an actual person. He was created by a group of high school girls in America who were looking to let off a little steam. Frustrated from being forced to read their friends' shitty poems over and over again, they teamed up to create "Icarus Sun." Underneath this code name, they reviewed hundreds of authors on Fictionpress (including their old friends' sucky poems) and gained a little fame. The poem found on this profile was little more than a silly group effort by the girls when they were bored...when they needed a pen name, they pulled from the poem and then posted it up under their new account.
The monster they created got a little out of hand, though, when they started to actually interact with people as if "Icarus Sun" was real person. Blogs, fake friends, and an entire backstory was created for the character. He was a young man orginally from Morocco, now living in New York City. He had a roommate, and his best friends were two annoying twin girls. He enjoyed orange creamsicles. The elaborate hoax fooled even the friends the girls had gone to school with, and was carried off to such a degree that one of the girls involved actually learned Arabic for the role, and is now a translator. The rest of the girls went on to become writers, and in one special case, a mad scientist. (We were surprised, too.)
The girls grew bored with "Icarus Sun" when they all graduated from high school, and the character was finally laid to rest in 2005.
We apologize for anyone who may have been hurt by Icarus. But quite frankly, your writing probably sucked, and you needed to be told.
Posted at 11:49 pm by Icarus
Friday, July 30, 2004
Andy asked that I post again. Well, if Andy says so...
I have returned. I am both surprised and grateful that the house is not only in one piece, but that it is immaculate as well.
Of course, since Omar does not do housework, I can only assume that this means that Syril threw a party and cleaned up to hide the evidence.
You may have noticed that it has been sometime since I last posted. There have been a great many problems since November. The first was my refusal to celebrate any Islamic holidays with my family in Morocco. Unlike christian holidays, Muslim 'religious observbances' tend to be a bit dour for my tastes. I dislike fasting. Of course, Catholics have Lent, but really, all I do is give up Coca-Cola for that. At my father's house, fasting is a serious business. He would starve us if it was allowed.
When I refused to go home, I was reminded where most of my financial backing comes from. So I went home. As a result, I missed most of the Christmas season, which in America seems to start mid-November. I did make it home in time for the actual holiday. Syril and Myril came over to visit and brought a few mutual friends. Omar was grumpy about being forced to host a Christmas party since he's a Muslim, but I told him that Christmas these days is more of a commercial holiday than a spiritual holiday. He still wasn't that happy about it, though, becuase he despises American indulgence.
All went well, with me going to classes and working peacefully all through January. Then, in Febuary, there was that damn earthquake. Supposedly, my father felt it in his home in Teoutan. The bigger deal was with obscure relatives who lived in the mountains. Once again, my father called me home, and of course, I refused. So he dragged my older brothers up there to help bury the dead. Four of my distant cousins died; one during the actual earthquake, one because of a heart attack; and two young ones because they were being stupid. My father's insistance that I drag myself back over to Morocco grew, so I eventually packed up and went.
My brother Emir's wife also gave up the ghost in Febuary, although whether it's because a house fell on her or because one of my other brothers finally killed her, I do not know. Everyone but Emir hated that woman. She was from a backwater village, but was spoiled, lazy and whiny. She always was picking on me. Emir adored her, but only because she was beautiful and liked modern things. Emir sees himself as the Arab of the new millenium. It is a bit odd.
Once the earthquake was dealt with, I left back to America. There were some riots/revolt type activities occuring because the government handled the disaster relief badly, so I was anxious to leave. Upon arriving back home, Omar and I argued about bit. Apparently, he's a bit peeved that he's stuck in the US when all he wants to do is go back home, and I kept getting the plane tickets. Also, with all the traveling I do, I am rarely home anymore, leaving him alone. Considering that the only reason he's in the US was to be a companion/guardian to me, it is hardly fair for him. It was not so bad when Hassan was around, but he left to study in France.
This brings me entirely up to date. I just came back from a two-week trip to Syria, but I try and spend as much time as I can at home. Not that it does any good; Omar, who has been my roomate for several years, is fed up. He has already written my father requesting that he be allowed to return home. I really hope that he does not leave; it has been a great help having him around.
Ah, and the truth finally comes out. Yes, even though I am a cold-hearted bastard, I do have feelings.
As for reviewing poetry, I have not done that in some time. The first person I plan on checking out as soon as I get back to it, though, is Aleppine
. Or maybe I will finally review my friend Shard, who now is Marian Wilde.
Posted at 05:12 pm by Icarus
Thursday, November 06, 2003
There is nothing wrong with the occasional deification of a favorite author. As for Keats, she actually reminds me of him modernized, mostly because of her word choice.
Stupid flames annoy me. If you want people to value your opinion, use complete words and capitalization. It is a cheap, easy way of sounding more intelligent than you really are. (No snarky remarks)
I thought I would post here before I left the country yet again. Business trip of sorts. I will be gone for at least a week, maybe more. I should, however, still have internet access as my laptop will be tagging along with me.
Do not despair in my absence. I know there will be a great noise of weeping accompanied by the pulling of hair and wearing of sackcloth, but try to be strong. I will do my best to avoid instigating riots that involve many people swearing and screaming for my death. I never did like those.
In the interim, I would appreciate it if I had a flat to come back to. This means, Syril, that I do not want you to use it as your own party place. Listen to what Myril has to say, she is the sensible one. Omar, not that you read this, but the twins do, so they will tell you--I do not care how well you get along with Hassan. He is not allowed into the loft. He will do something stupid, like burn it down or have sex on my bed. I will not allow it. He is a discredit to your family. You told me to grow-up, get a job and go to college and I have complied, so respect my demands. I would also like to apologize to you for not being able to be home for your return. Or for calling you--but I lost the number and did not care enough to look for it.
Ah, I think that is everything. Take care, everyone, and do not kill or harm yourselves.
Posted at 05:34 pm by Icarus
Thursday, October 30, 2003
You ill-conceived, illiterate, disease-ridden whore of an over-indulgent, wasteful, wanton and moronic mimic-monkey nation. You just happen to be in my path, of course. I hope you do not take offense.
As for your eloquent request about a camel, I believe I will refrain.
To the intelligent:
There has been an annoying girl who has, with her sniveling attachments, repeatedly sent me email demanding an apology. Of course, I have no intention of apologizing. She undoubtably deserved what ever I told her and if she never writes again I'll be doing the world a favor. Unfortunately, that doesn't prevent her annoying comments on how I've destroyed her wish to write.
As much as I would like to write a scathing reply in which I tear apart bit by bit every one of her and her accomplices' poems, I am unable to do so because I do not recognize this girl. I have gone through the last fifty reviews I have written and not one of them matches this girl's description. This is because the last fifty were all positive and according to the waif, I was brutal. I refuse to look any farther back into the history of my reviews, because I will only bore myself.
As I have said before, I do write happy, primrose-coloured reviews, even though I have been referred to a bitter, evil little man. The reason it may seem as though the majority of my reviews are hateful flames, the fact of the matter is that when authors receive a bit of criticism they howl like wind through a subway tunnel.
That is not to say that all my reviews are effusive praise. I am no one's lap dog and almost always dish out criticism in equal parts to my half-hearted compliments. Of course, I do have a few favorite poets that almost always receive good reviews from me, but that is due to the fact that they always turn out good work. Should they screw up, I will let them know the same way I do every other screw-up angst-ridden psuedo poet "artýst."
If the girl in mention should read this, please realize that you only received the same treatment that your collegues did. I refuse to pat you on the head and hand you a happy note of false contentment simply because you slapped down a few half-formed lines into a computer without bothering to advance your poetic form or even run spell-check.
Zelle won first place? How is that? I understood the meaning of your name as soon as I read it! This is unfair. Just because I do not not shout such things out in a review...yes, I know I am being childish. As for your mentally imbalanced friend, I do not mind her at all. She is amusing.
Posted at 02:19 am by Icarus
Friday, October 24, 2003
Well. I said I would explain my favorite phrase of 'Jesus wants to eat your eyes,' so I shall.
Remember, I am orginally from Morocco. My family was Muslim, but due to some odd circumstances--mainly that my mother was Spanish-American--I am Catholic. Educated in Islam, but practicing (sort of) Catholic.
It is not easy being young and trying to explain your religion to your friends who really don't know anything about Catholism.
When I was around thirteen, somehow the subject came up that Catholic eat Jesus' actual flesh. My friends, all Muslim and relatively un-educated, had a lot of trouble understanding this. Once we got past the idea that the eucharist did not taste like actual flesh and that no, we had not save his body from 2,000 years ago to just munch on, a friend of mine had a thought.
Imshi rarely has any thoughts at all and when he does they are, how shall I say it...interesting. Of course, look at the poor boy's name. His parents HAD to be crazy. And he was street urchin if there ever was one. He was horribly delinquent; still is.
In anycase, after I had intelligently expounded on the Catholic faith, he came to the conclusion that since people ate Jesus, Jesus must eat us, too. Somehow or other this twisted into the phrase we all know and love: Jesus wants to eat your eyes! At the time of this, my friends and I were living in a tiny town a few miles from the Spanish-Moroccan border. Boys can do crazy things sometimes. The phrase provided so much hilarity for us that we translated it into English, Spanish and French and would shout it out to passing tourists. It was a game; the one who could provoke the greatest reaction out of the tourists would win.
After an hour or two of this, the vendors became upset that we were scaring off business. Imshi had taken the game a bit far with some Spanish tourists he had taken for Americans (íJes˙s desea comer tus ojos!) and received a good whack over the head by a tailor. My father was then told, as he was a respected member of the community, and I received hell for my escapades.
But if there is one thing that embodies all the fun I had in Morocco as a child, it would be that phrase:
JESUS WANTS TO EAT YOUR EYES!
Posted at 06:10 pm by Icarus
Thursday, September 18, 2003
Well, then. I am back in the country, hopefully for longer than a month or two this time.
Contrary to popular belief, I do not 'bitch, bitch, bitch' all the time. I might feel that some things need to be pointed out from time to time, but I hardly see the wrong with that. Oh, shut up.
I am happy to be back in the US, though. I am looking forward to reading more of Aleppine's poems. I adore her work. I am happy to have a conversation every once and again with Shard, as well. Her sarcastic wit never fails to pull a laugh from me.
Myril and Syril are back at the university. Syril is once again dating that idiot Hassan, but Myril will not let him step one foot into the apartment. She throws things off their balcony at Hassan's car if he even enters the apartment building. Myril always was the smart one.
Mahtab is no longer living with Omar and I. Instead, she has moved in with her aunt and uncle in California. I told her that she was not allowed to become a harlot. She punched me in the stomach--and Omar laughed. I swear they conspire against me.
I have also had the privilege of making some new friends. They are Lady Claire, a reviewer of mine who dislikes cities and prefers the word 'really' to be written 'rilly.' There was also a friend of Aleppine's who IM'ed me. Absolutely insane, but very fun. Drove some jerk-off of an American insane in a chatroom. I don't think she's half bad. Crazy, yes; but a good person.
I have not reviewed any poems in a very long time. I do not intend to look at any new authors, either, until I have reviewed all my favorites and taken care of the constant stream of hate mail I receive. Luckily, of late, it has dwindled down to a trickle. It never ceases to amaze me that people still manage to find and review my poem even though it has been removed from the recent lists of FPC for months. Oddness, yes. I am eagerly awaiting 50 reviews, so if you have not reviewed it, please do so.
Flames spammed at me for the sole purpose of making my email box explode are met with equally vicious attacks, so please be aware. For the most part though, flames are welcomed almost as much as positive reviews. Please use proper grammar and spelling when attempting to ridicule me, though. I went through the trouble of learning your language, so the least you can do is use it when speaking with me.
That is all for now, but be assured, there is more.
Posted at 03:57 am by Icarus
Friday, July 25, 2003
Don't you dare say it doesn't. You can not present a poem as a giant block of text and expect people to read it. In paragraph form, poetry becomes prose. And even prose has indents to signify paragraphs. Which means that a giant block of text is nothing but gibberish.
Here is a haiku by someone named Jessica:
Fluffy dustball, you
are floating so leisurely;
I eat you...yucky.
I received it from the bane of my internet existence, Manda. Blame her for the poem. Jessica is her friend, as I understand it.
Aleppine, you write entirely too many poems. I keep getting these author alerts from you. They are sitting in my email box now, the only messages I have not read.
Posted at 09:55 pm by Icarus
Monday, June 09, 2003
Well, the concern all of you have for me is wonderfully heartwarming.
However, contrary to speculation, I have not been kinapped, I am not dead and I have not eloped. I merely fled the country for a short time.
This may come as a shock to some of you, but I do have a family. And I would not be a very good son if I did not take the time to visit. I have now visited, I am now back.
My email box exploded while I was gone. So if you sent a particularly important message to me, I suggest you resend it.
I have not been able to review anyone, much less my favorite authors. I apologize. I will try to get my affairs in order, but do not expect me to have anything done anytime soon.
I have notice that despite my absence, 2 new flames found their way on to the reviews of my poem. It should be mentioned that I received a few positive reviews as well. Mind you, all these reviews are a month or two old, but new to me. Why am I still receiving reviews on the poem? I haven't reviewed anyone else and have not updated the poem at all. How is it that people are finding their way on to my account?
That is all for now. Bugger off.
Posted at 09:54 pm by Icarus
Sunday, May 18, 2003
And it is finally revealed: I am a lazy ass.
So sue me. The first week, I was busy getting ahead on my school work so I could visit some college friends the next week.
I had a great time in New York City while I was escorted around by two beautiful twins...
So I was happily existing in the real world and did not have time for the virtual world. You can kick my ass for it, I do not care, I was having fun.
Yes, I know I said I was going to post everyday. I also said I was a complusive liar. Do you people not learn?
I do promise to post again as soon as I check my e-mail, which I have not done for the past two or three weeks.
My upcoming topic was chosen by all of you. It will be titled: "The many faults of Icarus."
Apparently it was also revealed that I am not infalliable. Oh well, the truth was going to come out sooner or later.
Posted at 09:53 pm by Icarus
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
Hello. I am Icarus Sun.
I dislike it on FictionPress.net when authors have bios that are so long I have to scroll down to see their poetry. Mine is just about reaching that limit.
As a direct result, I got this place so I could write updates and comment on a variety of things dealing with poetry and FPN, instead of having to at it to my Bio at FPN.
Look, I even have a tag boad so you can stop using my review space as one. Here you can tell me what an evil little man I am and the world can see. Doesn't that make you happy?
So, if you having any questions about poetry, my reviewing method, or would like to write me a particularly scathing attack against my presence in the world, my e-mail is:
And a reminder, my FictionPress.Net account is:
That is all I have for now, expect much more in the future. I will post everyday.
Posted at 09:52 pm by Icarus