Scary night creature
Whispering hidden gospels
Falling on deaf ears
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Man of Death
1
His hand slid into mine,
The feel of each bony finger
Cut, pierced and rumbled my soul
The Man of Death has answered my call.
The atmosphere was surreal,
His presence was enormous,
The tiled floor began to fold;
The Man of Death was walking.
“Why choose death?” he asked of me,
His chilly voice was full of power.
My window churned and turned
Into a dark, steel portal.
“Life” I said “Is hardly kind,
I give, give and give – it’s all I do
And for no real purpose.
I’m simply sick of caring.”
He looked at me grimly,
Eyes of fire burning, cape of darkness flaming
His voice came to me, a chilly whisper
“There are better reasons to die.”
The intensity of his voice
Watered down my resolve,
My hands took to shaking.
The Man of Death walked me to the portal.
2
The rocky cliff taunted my feet,
The world in view an ocean;
Waves came rocketing at the base.
The Man of Death was watching.
On top of the cliff sat a large rock,
On which the Man of Death perched.
The waves were blasting at a blink,
The cliff was slowly fading.
My feet took to walking,
Until I too was sitting.
The Man of Death stared blindly
As the waves exploded faster.
The foaming water folded and collapsed,
Battering down the seemingly solid cliff.
Half had vanished, the other hovered;
The cliff now a floating island.
“What’s the purpose of this?”
My voice was full of frustration,
Amazing as it was to see a cliff battered,
It still seemed like a fruitless journey.
The water pounded like a drum,
The cliff was all but vanished,
Everything was gone – transformed.
The cliff had become a grainy beach.
3
His finger began to twitch,
The world began to morph,
A golden dirt path lay underfoot,
An overcast of trees surrounding.
“Walk” he screeched, like a banshee.
As we walked the trees became blacker,
The ground began to crumble;
The further we got, the worse it got.
Stumps!
Stumps!
Stumps!
All the trees had become - Stumps!
“Why is the world so black?” I questioned,
“Why does all the good turn black?”
“Walk” he said, and so I did;
The Man of Death followed.
Further along the golden dirt a sapling grew,
Further still a young tree was growing.
The black became brown,
The brown became green.
We stopped beneath one towering tree;
A bird above us chirping,
Looking up we could see
A nest made for its younglings.
4
“Look into my eyes” he grunted,
The small black holes a vortex;
My body warped and twisted through,
Until there was naught but nothing.
The world around me an empty canvas,
A brush appearing in hand,
“Paint your perfect world” he snickered,
So I took to painting.
All of my hopes,
All of my dreams,
I splattered them on with white,
The Man of Death watched, thinking.
White on white just didn’t work.
I needed to add some colour.
Hopes are not yellow, or blue or red,
But a clear white canvas was – nothing.
The ground I painted a murky grey,
The grass a watery red,
The sky I painted a strong black,
The base of all was white.
The Man of Death grasped my hand,
His bony arms were protruding.
The canvas began to melt and mould,
Back into my room.
5
The Man of Death left me here,
My call had not been answered.
The Man of Death he left me here,
And I am thankful for it.
His hand slid into mine,
The feel of each bony finger
Cut, pierced and rumbled my soul
The Man of Death has answered my call.
The atmosphere was surreal,
His presence was enormous,
The tiled floor began to fold;
The Man of Death was walking.
“Why choose death?” he asked of me,
His chilly voice was full of power.
My window churned and turned
Into a dark, steel portal.
“Life” I said “Is hardly kind,
I give, give and give – it’s all I do
And for no real purpose.
I’m simply sick of caring.”
He looked at me grimly,
Eyes of fire burning, cape of darkness flaming
His voice came to me, a chilly whisper
“There are better reasons to die.”
The intensity of his voice
Watered down my resolve,
My hands took to shaking.
The Man of Death walked me to the portal.
2
The rocky cliff taunted my feet,
The world in view an ocean;
Waves came rocketing at the base.
The Man of Death was watching.
On top of the cliff sat a large rock,
On which the Man of Death perched.
The waves were blasting at a blink,
The cliff was slowly fading.
My feet took to walking,
Until I too was sitting.
The Man of Death stared blindly
As the waves exploded faster.
The foaming water folded and collapsed,
Battering down the seemingly solid cliff.
Half had vanished, the other hovered;
The cliff now a floating island.
“What’s the purpose of this?”
My voice was full of frustration,
Amazing as it was to see a cliff battered,
It still seemed like a fruitless journey.
The water pounded like a drum,
The cliff was all but vanished,
Everything was gone – transformed.
The cliff had become a grainy beach.
3
His finger began to twitch,
The world began to morph,
A golden dirt path lay underfoot,
An overcast of trees surrounding.
“Walk” he screeched, like a banshee.
As we walked the trees became blacker,
The ground began to crumble;
The further we got, the worse it got.
Stumps!
Stumps!
Stumps!
All the trees had become - Stumps!
“Why is the world so black?” I questioned,
“Why does all the good turn black?”
“Walk” he said, and so I did;
The Man of Death followed.
Further along the golden dirt a sapling grew,
Further still a young tree was growing.
The black became brown,
The brown became green.
We stopped beneath one towering tree;
A bird above us chirping,
Looking up we could see
A nest made for its younglings.
4
“Look into my eyes” he grunted,
The small black holes a vortex;
My body warped and twisted through,
Until there was naught but nothing.
The world around me an empty canvas,
A brush appearing in hand,
“Paint your perfect world” he snickered,
So I took to painting.
All of my hopes,
All of my dreams,
I splattered them on with white,
The Man of Death watched, thinking.
White on white just didn’t work.
I needed to add some colour.
Hopes are not yellow, or blue or red,
But a clear white canvas was – nothing.
The ground I painted a murky grey,
The grass a watery red,
The sky I painted a strong black,
The base of all was white.
The Man of Death grasped my hand,
His bony arms were protruding.
The canvas began to melt and mould,
Back into my room.
5
The Man of Death left me here,
My call had not been answered.
The Man of Death he left me here,
And I am thankful for it.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
The Mimic (Poem)
The pendulum moves, swishing and swooping
It always has the same reaction.
It’s a prisoner of action.
Cycling back and forth in time, never stopping.
Time is a bicycle, a wheel that’s spinning.
It goes round and round - never giving.
The hands of the clock tick past,
Slowly sneaking from seconds into minutes.
Time is a cycle and we are in it.
The hands of the clock tick fast,
Gracefully greeting minutes into hours.
Twenty four ends, back to the first hour.
Sailing in at low tide,
The water calm and cool.
Heart beat low; a resting fool.
Washed away by high tide,
The water pounds treacherously high.
The end of the cycle draws nigh.
The Earth revolves around the Sun,
The Sun around the Milky Way.
Our resolve begins to sway.
The wheel keeps spinning – never done.
One year gone. A new one starts,
Time the yo-yo sparks the heart.
As the pendulum swings as do we,
As the clock ticks so do we,
As the tides change, as the Earth revolves,
As time changes, so does our resolve.
Our life is a cycle of moods, like the panoramic
Time –The Mimic.
It always has the same reaction.
It’s a prisoner of action.
Cycling back and forth in time, never stopping.
Time is a bicycle, a wheel that’s spinning.
It goes round and round - never giving.
The hands of the clock tick past,
Slowly sneaking from seconds into minutes.
Time is a cycle and we are in it.
The hands of the clock tick fast,
Gracefully greeting minutes into hours.
Twenty four ends, back to the first hour.
Sailing in at low tide,
The water calm and cool.
Heart beat low; a resting fool.
Washed away by high tide,
The water pounds treacherously high.
The end of the cycle draws nigh.
The Earth revolves around the Sun,
The Sun around the Milky Way.
Our resolve begins to sway.
The wheel keeps spinning – never done.
One year gone. A new one starts,
Time the yo-yo sparks the heart.
As the pendulum swings as do we,
As the clock ticks so do we,
As the tides change, as the Earth revolves,
As time changes, so does our resolve.
Our life is a cycle of moods, like the panoramic
Time –The Mimic.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Hourglass (Poem)
Running towards the edge,
Watching you wave
Goodbye.
The hourglass flips,
Time to move on; time to start
Again.
Our hands part, as do our lips;
Our souls diverge into nothing.
Love is a harsh game – Time
Wasted.
Locked inside a room,
Crying.
Praying.
Hoping.
Love is rarely fair,
But we creep forward
Believing
The hourglass may flip back.
And we may end up running,
Back to something beautiful.
Watching you wave
Goodbye.
The hourglass flips,
Time to move on; time to start
Again.
Our hands part, as do our lips;
Our souls diverge into nothing.
Love is a harsh game – Time
Wasted.
Locked inside a room,
Crying.
Praying.
Hoping.
Love is rarely fair,
But we creep forward
Believing
The hourglass may flip back.
And we may end up running,
Back to something beautiful.
Friday, November 20, 2009
War (Poem)
Fortune holds your hand
Torturing, temping, teaching
Like a fish flopping on land
Struggle.
Constant battles, constant wars
Surrender?
No! Hold the flag up high
You’re a warrior, a soldier of fate
Your mind is your battlefield
This is your land
Hold it.
Keep it.
Love it.
Torturing, temping, teaching
Like a fish flopping on land
Struggle.
Constant battles, constant wars
Surrender?
No! Hold the flag up high
You’re a warrior, a soldier of fate
Your mind is your battlefield
This is your land
Hold it.
Keep it.
Love it.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Epic Words
Evoke
Conjure
Zenith
Zany
Gobbledygook
Ostracize
Projectile
Unscrupulous
Apparition
Poltergeist
Pacify
Perverse
Pestilence
Macabre
Maelstrom
Emancipate
Dreary
Delinquent
Barbaric
Benevolent
Enthrall
Bewilder
Beget
Betwixt
Insular
Ostentatious
Pompous
Pretentious
Conjure
Zenith
Zany
Gobbledygook
Ostracize
Projectile
Unscrupulous
Apparition
Poltergeist
Pacify
Perverse
Pestilence
Macabre
Maelstrom
Emancipate
Dreary
Delinquent
Barbaric
Benevolent
Enthrall
Bewilder
Beget
Betwixt
Insular
Ostentatious
Pompous
Pretentious
Collection Of Quotes
Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle. (Plato)
Courage is knowing what not to fear. (Plato)
Honesty is for the most part less profitable than dishonesty. (Plato)
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. (Plato)
I think therefore I am. (Rene Descartes)
Anybody can become angry - this is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way - that is not within everybody's power and is not easy.(Aristotle)
Great men are always of a nature originally melancholy. (Aristotle)
I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is over self. (Aristotle)
No great genius ever existed without a touch of madness. (Aristotle)
The aim of the wise is not to secure pleasure, but to avoid pain. (Aristotle)
An honest man is always a child. (Socrates)
He is richest who is content with the least, for content is the wealth of nature. (Socrates)
I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing. (Socrates)
Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who said has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense. (Buddha)
Let him that would move the world first move himself. (Socrates)
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. (Confucius)
Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without. (Confucius)
I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand. (Confucius)
If we don't know life, how can we know death? (Confucius)
It doesn't matter how slowly you go, so long as you don't stop. (Confucius)
Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. (Confucius)
Life is simple, but we insist on making it complicated. (Confucius)
Silence is a true friend who never betrays. (Confucius)
To go beyond is just as wrong as to fall short. (Confucius)
A person who never made a mistake, never tried anything new. (Einstein)
As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain, and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality. (Einstein)
Anger dwells only in the bosom of fools. (Einstein)
If the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts. (Einstein)
He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed (Einstein)
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. (Einstein)
Intellectuals solve problems, geniuses prevent them. (Einstein)
Logic will take you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere. (Einstein)
No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it. (Einstein)
Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. (Einstein)
The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it. (Einstein)
A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject. (Churchill)
I am prepared to meet my Maker. If my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter. (Churchill)
If we open a quarrel between past and present, we shall find we have lost the future. (Churchill)
In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies. (Churchill)
Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm. (Churchill)
We are masters of unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out. (Churchill)
I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly. (Churchill)
Who the hell do you think I am? (Gurren Lagann)
Don't believe in the you who believes is me. Don't believe in the me who believes in you. Believe in the you who believes in himself. (Gurren Lagann)
Go beyond the impossible and kick reason to the curb! (Gurren Lagann)
If there is a wall in the way, just smash it. If there is no path, make one with this hand! (Gurren Lagann)
The world won't change with pretty words alone. (Code Geass)
If the King doesn't lead, how can he expect his subordinates to follow. (Code Geass)
A person's a person no matter how small. (Dr Seuss)
Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. (Dr Seuss)
We accept the reality of the world with which we are presented. (The Truman Show)
We have not passed the subtle line between childhood and adulthood until we move from the passive voice to the active voice - that is, until we stop saying 'it got lost' and say 'I lost it'. (Sidney J. Harris)
I didn't say it was the smart thing, but it is the right thing. (Atlantis: The Lost Empire)
I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty. (Edgar Allan Poe)
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity. (Edgar Allan Poe)
If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. (Nietzsche)
In heaven all the interesting people are missing. (Nietzsche)
The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good thing for the first time. (Nietzsche)
To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering. (Nietzsche)
One must have a good memory to be able to keep the promises one makes. (Nietzsche)
It is dreadful to die of thirst in the sea. Do you have to salt your truth so much that it can no longer even quench thirst.(Nietzsche)
Burying memories is man's way of surviving. But there are somethings a man should never forget. (Neon Genesis:Evangelion)
Humans are hilarious. (Death Note)
Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes. (Gandhi)
The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. (Gandhi)
You must be the change you want to see in the world. (Gandhi)
An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. (Gandhi)
Darkness can not drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate can not drive out hate; only love can do that. (Martin Luther King, Jr)
I look to a day when people will not be judged by the colour of their skin, but by the content of their character. (Martin Luther King, Jr)
I learned that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. (Nelson Mandela)
In the beginning the universe was created. This has made alot of people very angry and has widely been regarded as a bad move. (Douglas Adams)
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the road has gone,
And I must follow, If I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And wither then? I cannot say. (Tolkien)
It's a dangerous business going out your front door. (Tolkien)
All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. (Tolkien)
We are horribly afraid - but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds. (Tolkien)
For all those born with nothing, there are those born with everything. Perhaps those who never notice the difference are the ones we should envy. (Fire Emblem 9)
A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval. (Mark Twain)
Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first. (Mark Twain)
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear. (Mark Twain)
Always acknowledge a fault. This will throw those in authority off their guard and give you an opportunity to commit more. (Mark Twain)
A banker is a fellow who lends you his umbrella when the sun is shining, but wants it back the minute it begins to rain. (Mark Twain)
Don't go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. (Ralph Emerson)
It's a hard and humbling gesture, to take blame and admit fault. (Craig Silvey).
Show me a sane man and I will cure him for you. (Carl Jung)
Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination. (Oscar Wilde)
Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not the sitter. (Oscar Wilde)
Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months. (Oscar Wilde)
I am not young enough to know everything. (Oscar Wilde)
I would never die for my beliefs because I might be wrong. (Bertrand Russell)
Patriotism is the willingness to kill and be killed for trivial reasons. (Bertrand Russell)
Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself. (George Bernard Shaw)
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less travelled by
And that has made all the difference. (Robert Frost)
If I were two-faced, would I be wearing this one? (Abraham Lincoln)
Action is eloquence. (William Shakespeare)
It is not enough to help the feeble up, but to support him after. (William Shakespeare)
Love all, trust a few. Do wrong to none. (William Shakespeare)
All the world's a stage,
And all men and women merely players.
They have their exits and entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts. (William Shakespeare)
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. (William Shakespeare)
All war is a symptom of man's failure as a thinking animal. (John Steinbeck)
Keep your fears to yourself, but share your courage with others. (Robert Louis Stevenson)
No one is useless in the world who lightens the burden of another. (Charles Dickens)
We should never be ashamed of our tears. (Charles Dickens)
The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one. (Wilhelm Stekel)
It's really too bad that so much crumby stuff is a lot of fun sometimes. ( J. D. Salinger)
It's the pointless things that give your life meaning. Friendship, compassion, art, love. All of them pointless. But they're what keeps life from being meaningless. (Tim Winton)
You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from. (Cormac McCarthy)
When you die it's the same as if everybody else died too. (Cormac McCarthy)
You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it. (Harper Lee)
Courage is when you go into a fight knowing you're gonna get licked but you go in anyway and don't give up till it's over. (Harper Lee)
One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving. (Paulo Coelho)
Life attracts life. (Paulo Coelho)
It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting. (Paulo Coelho)
Intuition is really a sudden immersion of the soul into the universal current of life. (Paulo Coelho)
When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed of when he first made the decision. (Paulo Coelho)
There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.(Paulo Coelho)
When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.(Paulo Coelho)
I don’t live in either my past or my future. I’m interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you’ll be a happy man. Life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we’re living now. (Paulo Coelho)
I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not. (Kurt Cobain)
Even in a world full of people, I can't help but feel alone. (Me)
No means no. No does not mean ask again. (Me)
You don't need capital to capitalize. (Me)
Just because it makes sense doesn't mean I have to agree with it. (Me)
Courage is knowing what not to fear. (Plato)
Honesty is for the most part less profitable than dishonesty. (Plato)
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. (Plato)
I think therefore I am. (Rene Descartes)
Anybody can become angry - this is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way - that is not within everybody's power and is not easy.(Aristotle)
Great men are always of a nature originally melancholy. (Aristotle)
I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is over self. (Aristotle)
No great genius ever existed without a touch of madness. (Aristotle)
The aim of the wise is not to secure pleasure, but to avoid pain. (Aristotle)
An honest man is always a child. (Socrates)
He is richest who is content with the least, for content is the wealth of nature. (Socrates)
I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing. (Socrates)
Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who said has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense. (Buddha)
Let him that would move the world first move himself. (Socrates)
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. (Confucius)
Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without. (Confucius)
I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand. (Confucius)
If we don't know life, how can we know death? (Confucius)
It doesn't matter how slowly you go, so long as you don't stop. (Confucius)
Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. (Confucius)
Life is simple, but we insist on making it complicated. (Confucius)
Silence is a true friend who never betrays. (Confucius)
To go beyond is just as wrong as to fall short. (Confucius)
A person who never made a mistake, never tried anything new. (Einstein)
As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain, and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality. (Einstein)
Anger dwells only in the bosom of fools. (Einstein)
If the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts. (Einstein)
He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed (Einstein)
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. (Einstein)
Intellectuals solve problems, geniuses prevent them. (Einstein)
Logic will take you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere. (Einstein)
No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it. (Einstein)
Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. (Einstein)
The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it. (Einstein)
A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject. (Churchill)
I am prepared to meet my Maker. If my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter. (Churchill)
If we open a quarrel between past and present, we shall find we have lost the future. (Churchill)
In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies. (Churchill)
Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm. (Churchill)
We are masters of unsaid words, but slaves of those we let slip out. (Churchill)
I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly. (Churchill)
Who the hell do you think I am? (Gurren Lagann)
Don't believe in the you who believes is me. Don't believe in the me who believes in you. Believe in the you who believes in himself. (Gurren Lagann)
Go beyond the impossible and kick reason to the curb! (Gurren Lagann)
If there is a wall in the way, just smash it. If there is no path, make one with this hand! (Gurren Lagann)
The world won't change with pretty words alone. (Code Geass)
If the King doesn't lead, how can he expect his subordinates to follow. (Code Geass)
A person's a person no matter how small. (Dr Seuss)
Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind. (Dr Seuss)
We accept the reality of the world with which we are presented. (The Truman Show)
We have not passed the subtle line between childhood and adulthood until we move from the passive voice to the active voice - that is, until we stop saying 'it got lost' and say 'I lost it'. (Sidney J. Harris)
I didn't say it was the smart thing, but it is the right thing. (Atlantis: The Lost Empire)
I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty. (Edgar Allan Poe)
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity. (Edgar Allan Poe)
If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. (Nietzsche)
In heaven all the interesting people are missing. (Nietzsche)
The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good thing for the first time. (Nietzsche)
To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering. (Nietzsche)
One must have a good memory to be able to keep the promises one makes. (Nietzsche)
It is dreadful to die of thirst in the sea. Do you have to salt your truth so much that it can no longer even quench thirst.(Nietzsche)
Burying memories is man's way of surviving. But there are somethings a man should never forget. (Neon Genesis:Evangelion)
Humans are hilarious. (Death Note)
Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes. (Gandhi)
The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. (Gandhi)
You must be the change you want to see in the world. (Gandhi)
An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. (Gandhi)
Darkness can not drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate can not drive out hate; only love can do that. (Martin Luther King, Jr)
I look to a day when people will not be judged by the colour of their skin, but by the content of their character. (Martin Luther King, Jr)
I learned that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. (Nelson Mandela)
In the beginning the universe was created. This has made alot of people very angry and has widely been regarded as a bad move. (Douglas Adams)
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the road has gone,
And I must follow, If I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And wither then? I cannot say. (Tolkien)
It's a dangerous business going out your front door. (Tolkien)
All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. (Tolkien)
We are horribly afraid - but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds. (Tolkien)
For all those born with nothing, there are those born with everything. Perhaps those who never notice the difference are the ones we should envy. (Fire Emblem 9)
A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval. (Mark Twain)
Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first. (Mark Twain)
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear - not absence of fear. (Mark Twain)
Always acknowledge a fault. This will throw those in authority off their guard and give you an opportunity to commit more. (Mark Twain)
A banker is a fellow who lends you his umbrella when the sun is shining, but wants it back the minute it begins to rain. (Mark Twain)
Don't go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. (Ralph Emerson)
It's a hard and humbling gesture, to take blame and admit fault. (Craig Silvey).
Show me a sane man and I will cure him for you. (Carl Jung)
Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination. (Oscar Wilde)
Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not the sitter. (Oscar Wilde)
Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months. (Oscar Wilde)
I am not young enough to know everything. (Oscar Wilde)
I would never die for my beliefs because I might be wrong. (Bertrand Russell)
Patriotism is the willingness to kill and be killed for trivial reasons. (Bertrand Russell)
Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself. (George Bernard Shaw)
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less travelled by
And that has made all the difference. (Robert Frost)
If I were two-faced, would I be wearing this one? (Abraham Lincoln)
Action is eloquence. (William Shakespeare)
It is not enough to help the feeble up, but to support him after. (William Shakespeare)
Love all, trust a few. Do wrong to none. (William Shakespeare)
All the world's a stage,
And all men and women merely players.
They have their exits and entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts. (William Shakespeare)
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. (William Shakespeare)
All war is a symptom of man's failure as a thinking animal. (John Steinbeck)
Keep your fears to yourself, but share your courage with others. (Robert Louis Stevenson)
No one is useless in the world who lightens the burden of another. (Charles Dickens)
We should never be ashamed of our tears. (Charles Dickens)
The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one. (Wilhelm Stekel)
It's really too bad that so much crumby stuff is a lot of fun sometimes. ( J. D. Salinger)
It's the pointless things that give your life meaning. Friendship, compassion, art, love. All of them pointless. But they're what keeps life from being meaningless. (Tim Winton)
You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from. (Cormac McCarthy)
When you die it's the same as if everybody else died too. (Cormac McCarthy)
You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it. (Harper Lee)
Courage is when you go into a fight knowing you're gonna get licked but you go in anyway and don't give up till it's over. (Harper Lee)
One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving. (Paulo Coelho)
Life attracts life. (Paulo Coelho)
It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting. (Paulo Coelho)
Intuition is really a sudden immersion of the soul into the universal current of life. (Paulo Coelho)
When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed of when he first made the decision. (Paulo Coelho)
There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.(Paulo Coelho)
When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.(Paulo Coelho)
I don’t live in either my past or my future. I’m interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you’ll be a happy man. Life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we’re living now. (Paulo Coelho)
I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not. (Kurt Cobain)
Even in a world full of people, I can't help but feel alone. (Me)
No means no. No does not mean ask again. (Me)
You don't need capital to capitalize. (Me)
Just because it makes sense doesn't mean I have to agree with it. (Me)
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Curious (Story)
Curious
Since childhood I have been painfully curious. To me everything is interesting, from the smallest grain of sand to the most marvellous of man-made creations. Whether the object which catches my eye be living or dead, ancient or modern, broken or whole, even if the object is insignificant it doesn’t matter, it will catch my interest. To me everything is marvellous, everything is wonderful, and everything is simply amazing.
But the thing that caught my fascination most, were things to do with the dead. This curiosity for the macabre never left me - in fact it grew. There is something strangely romantic about the eerie atmosphere of a graveyard and something oddly soothing about the presence of a full moon on an already spooky night. To this day I am still passionately curious, perhaps even dangerously so.
One foot, right and then left, I moved forward; my eyes searching every material-object I passed by, looking for something odd, something distinctly unique or revoltingly curious. The sun had only been above the horizon for little more than an hour, it was a new day; a different route but the same old quest. For the last twenty years I have spent numerous hours every morning trying to find, fix and create trinkets, do-dads and thing-a-ma-jigs. That day I had already found: a worn, misshapen soft drink top, a conch shell that was chipped at base and was covered in seagull droppings, some curious yellow leaves that looked like they were new and freshly grown but crunched and crumbled in your hand like an ant under your feet and a wide variety of used, seemingly abused household appliances which I had found at the local dump. Another step forward, time raced by and before I realised, it was night time. My days off work were often like this, a huge scavenger hunt that lasted from dawn until dusk; yielding good results, but rarely anything that left me gasping in awe, nothing I hadn’t seen before. Basket-filled, I decided to continue on just a little longer. Step after step, breath after breath, heart-beat after heart-beat, I kept on walking forward and found I was heading towards a hill – a graveyard at its zenith.
The hill was steep, a ladder standing vertical. My curiosity and love for the macabre had taken over; I didn’t care how big or how steep the hill was, I was going to climb it! After every stride a star seemed to disappear from the sky, the moon would turn a slightly darker shade and a drop of sweat would slip out of my pores and sprinkle the ground. I considered myself to be quite fit; not an athlete but fitter than the average person, regardless I was no match for the hill. I stopped. Caught a breath. Stepped forward. Stopped. Caught a breath. Stepped forward. Stopped. I felt the immense weight of sweat that was building up on my body, followed by the incredible relief as it dripped off me. This pattern continued for the bulk of the weary uphill battle.
The graveyard was just before me, a rusted-iron fence; barely taller than myself, enclosing it. Blunt spikes made up the apex of each separate iron bar. Inside was a barren wonderland – my dreamland. The scent of decay tantalised my nostrils, the feel of the sullen wind tickled my skin, and my eyes bled in awe at very sight of the macabre. Adrenaline pumped through ever vein of my body, I was thrilled and excited. This was what I was looking for. This was exactly the kind of thing that not only captivated my curiosity, but enthralled it. Every breath felt heavy, it were as if I was alive, like I had breathed my first breath. The soul, the essence, the aura of the sombre environment of the graveyard enthralled my senses, rendering me paralysed, leaving me frozen stiff – a pillar. I was captivated! I was in my fantasy world and it was there, before me, real and tangible. Each bone that lies protruding slightly from under the ground, every wooden cross, the black dead trees, the eerie fog, each rat carcass, and every piece of disturbed dirt, everything about it left me bewildered in an ecstasy. My eyes had scoured every bit of the graveyard and stopped at the same place, an unmarked gravestone, hiding in the far right corner, underneath the only living tree in the graveyard.
The sky darkens an unearthly grey and rain vomits from the sullen clouds. You’re eyes fixate on one object; your brain only acknowledges one thought dig, dig, find what’s hidden beneath the unmarked grave, dig, dig. Like a magnet, you are drawn to the gravestone, pulled by the hand of an angel or more likely an invisible demon. The rain has softened the ground below you, turned it to slush, to a brown-black sewerage. The world transforms into an Edward Munch painting or Van Gogh’s Starry Night, everything seems warped, twisted; the only thing that makes sense to you anymore is your desire to delve into the very depths of the macabre, to discover the unknown – satisfy your black hole of curiosity. You trudge through the mud, it’s like you’re walking through a peat bog. With each step the rain sharpens, the sky turns a darker shade of grey and your boots begin to feel like lead. You continue walking through the slush until the gravestone stands before you.
Your right hand slides in the muck, followed by your left, like a motor, one hand then the next, digging up someone’s grave. All ethics fade from you, all thought becomes transparent, nothing matters to you now except the task of digging, of delving into the unknown, of sneaking towards the gates of hell and the inner crust of the earth. A fog descends and thickens around you; each blade of rain strikes your back like a whip, you struggle to keep your compose as the wind turns violent; relentlessly, mindlessly you dig, as if it were your sole purpose, like God himself had appointed you this task, had instilled an insatiable curiosity in you when you before birth. Sweat begins to build, your breaths become harder, and the lower layers of mud begin to crust on your hands while the rest remain sloppy and wet.
Deeper. Deeper. Hand after hand. Your pulse rises. The rain strikes. The wind tares the leaves off the tree. Everything about this is wrong. The whole world is telling you to stop, telling you no. Nothing about this is natural and yet you plough on. Deeper. Neverstopping. The further you get, the stronger your resolve. Deeper. The fog thickens, a white sheet covering the graveyard. Thunder, lightning, the heavens hail. Deeper. It is calling you now, dragging you. Deeper.
The sky clears, the rain stops, the wind dies and the grave seems untouched. A black cat sits perched on the tree looking at the gravestone which now reads:
RIP
Edgar Carroll
DOB: 22/05/1979
Insatiably curious
Since childhood I have been painfully curious. To me everything is interesting, from the smallest grain of sand to the most marvellous of man-made creations. Whether the object which catches my eye be living or dead, ancient or modern, broken or whole, even if the object is insignificant it doesn’t matter, it will catch my interest. To me everything is marvellous, everything is wonderful, and everything is simply amazing.
But the thing that caught my fascination most, were things to do with the dead. This curiosity for the macabre never left me - in fact it grew. There is something strangely romantic about the eerie atmosphere of a graveyard and something oddly soothing about the presence of a full moon on an already spooky night. To this day I am still passionately curious, perhaps even dangerously so.
One foot, right and then left, I moved forward; my eyes searching every material-object I passed by, looking for something odd, something distinctly unique or revoltingly curious. The sun had only been above the horizon for little more than an hour, it was a new day; a different route but the same old quest. For the last twenty years I have spent numerous hours every morning trying to find, fix and create trinkets, do-dads and thing-a-ma-jigs. That day I had already found: a worn, misshapen soft drink top, a conch shell that was chipped at base and was covered in seagull droppings, some curious yellow leaves that looked like they were new and freshly grown but crunched and crumbled in your hand like an ant under your feet and a wide variety of used, seemingly abused household appliances which I had found at the local dump. Another step forward, time raced by and before I realised, it was night time. My days off work were often like this, a huge scavenger hunt that lasted from dawn until dusk; yielding good results, but rarely anything that left me gasping in awe, nothing I hadn’t seen before. Basket-filled, I decided to continue on just a little longer. Step after step, breath after breath, heart-beat after heart-beat, I kept on walking forward and found I was heading towards a hill – a graveyard at its zenith.
The hill was steep, a ladder standing vertical. My curiosity and love for the macabre had taken over; I didn’t care how big or how steep the hill was, I was going to climb it! After every stride a star seemed to disappear from the sky, the moon would turn a slightly darker shade and a drop of sweat would slip out of my pores and sprinkle the ground. I considered myself to be quite fit; not an athlete but fitter than the average person, regardless I was no match for the hill. I stopped. Caught a breath. Stepped forward. Stopped. Caught a breath. Stepped forward. Stopped. I felt the immense weight of sweat that was building up on my body, followed by the incredible relief as it dripped off me. This pattern continued for the bulk of the weary uphill battle.
The graveyard was just before me, a rusted-iron fence; barely taller than myself, enclosing it. Blunt spikes made up the apex of each separate iron bar. Inside was a barren wonderland – my dreamland. The scent of decay tantalised my nostrils, the feel of the sullen wind tickled my skin, and my eyes bled in awe at very sight of the macabre. Adrenaline pumped through ever vein of my body, I was thrilled and excited. This was what I was looking for. This was exactly the kind of thing that not only captivated my curiosity, but enthralled it. Every breath felt heavy, it were as if I was alive, like I had breathed my first breath. The soul, the essence, the aura of the sombre environment of the graveyard enthralled my senses, rendering me paralysed, leaving me frozen stiff – a pillar. I was captivated! I was in my fantasy world and it was there, before me, real and tangible. Each bone that lies protruding slightly from under the ground, every wooden cross, the black dead trees, the eerie fog, each rat carcass, and every piece of disturbed dirt, everything about it left me bewildered in an ecstasy. My eyes had scoured every bit of the graveyard and stopped at the same place, an unmarked gravestone, hiding in the far right corner, underneath the only living tree in the graveyard.
The sky darkens an unearthly grey and rain vomits from the sullen clouds. You’re eyes fixate on one object; your brain only acknowledges one thought dig, dig, find what’s hidden beneath the unmarked grave, dig, dig. Like a magnet, you are drawn to the gravestone, pulled by the hand of an angel or more likely an invisible demon. The rain has softened the ground below you, turned it to slush, to a brown-black sewerage. The world transforms into an Edward Munch painting or Van Gogh’s Starry Night, everything seems warped, twisted; the only thing that makes sense to you anymore is your desire to delve into the very depths of the macabre, to discover the unknown – satisfy your black hole of curiosity. You trudge through the mud, it’s like you’re walking through a peat bog. With each step the rain sharpens, the sky turns a darker shade of grey and your boots begin to feel like lead. You continue walking through the slush until the gravestone stands before you.
Your right hand slides in the muck, followed by your left, like a motor, one hand then the next, digging up someone’s grave. All ethics fade from you, all thought becomes transparent, nothing matters to you now except the task of digging, of delving into the unknown, of sneaking towards the gates of hell and the inner crust of the earth. A fog descends and thickens around you; each blade of rain strikes your back like a whip, you struggle to keep your compose as the wind turns violent; relentlessly, mindlessly you dig, as if it were your sole purpose, like God himself had appointed you this task, had instilled an insatiable curiosity in you when you before birth. Sweat begins to build, your breaths become harder, and the lower layers of mud begin to crust on your hands while the rest remain sloppy and wet.
Deeper. Deeper. Hand after hand. Your pulse rises. The rain strikes. The wind tares the leaves off the tree. Everything about this is wrong. The whole world is telling you to stop, telling you no. Nothing about this is natural and yet you plough on. Deeper. Neverstopping. The further you get, the stronger your resolve. Deeper. The fog thickens, a white sheet covering the graveyard. Thunder, lightning, the heavens hail. Deeper. It is calling you now, dragging you. Deeper.
The sky clears, the rain stops, the wind dies and the grave seems untouched. A black cat sits perched on the tree looking at the gravestone which now reads:
RIP
Edgar Carroll
DOB: 22/05/1979
Insatiably curious
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
The Speed of Life (Poem)
Frightfully fast we move forward
Never knowing where we’re going
Bravely bolding every blizzard
Through ridged rapids - we keep flowing
Whether desolate deserts or rugged rocks
Whether forests foreboding or death unfolding
Whether ominous obstructs or horrors hiding
Frightfully fast we move forward
Never knowing - never showing
Just where we’re going
Never knowing where we’re going
Bravely bolding every blizzard
Through ridged rapids - we keep flowing
Whether desolate deserts or rugged rocks
Whether forests foreboding or death unfolding
Whether ominous obstructs or horrors hiding
Frightfully fast we move forward
Never knowing - never showing
Just where we’re going
The Science of Attraction (Short Story)
The Science of Attraction
I have the gravity of a super-magnet; an unparalleled charisma. It is as if I am a black hole, dragging and devouring people’s attention; like I produce an invisible aura of attraction. Humans are not the only creatures that are attracted to me; but animals too, from the smallest ant to the mightiest lion, from the tiresome sloth to the obnoxious parrot. At first I found it to be an irritating; if not down-right frustrating trait, people would often walk up to me and engage in pointless chatter, and bring me unwanted gifts. Antisocial animals that normally would attack or become reclusive when approached by people, would come up and rub their fur against my leg. Eventually I realised, like the Laws of Physics, that this bothersome trait of charismatic-attraction could be manipulated to my advantage. You often hear the phrase what a tangled web we weave, when we first practise to deceive, I soon learnt that that same phrase could apply to manipulation as well.
I could start my tale by giving you a detailed back-story, but I have decided not to, it would prove mostly irrelevant; all you need to know about me in regards to this event, has already been mentioned. You may judge me and what I did however you may wish; although in my defence, albeit a very poor one, I only wanted solitude and believed that my actions would frustrate people enough to detach themselves from me, giving me the quiet I desired. I will start from Tuesday, approximately one month ago…
I woke up like I always do, with my cat Gerald curled between my legs and my two dogs sitting beside my bed staring stupidly at me. I violently thrust my arm onto the chest of drawers, searching for my phone. As expected I had unread messages - twenty of them.
Jordan:
Whatcha doin after skool wana hang?
Charles:
Hey bud, lookin lik a bad day 2 walk 2 skool, wana lift?
The other eighteen messages were similar to the two I mentioned. At this time, like always, I was frustrated by the lack of me-time; it was only morning and my pets had already invaded my room and I have already been bombarded with text messages. I opened the top drawer of my recently polished chest of drawers and grabbed my organiser hoping that I had Science that day; the one thing that gets me through the day. Of course going with the hellish flow of the day, I did not. Armageddon would have been a more exciting, and welcome, prospect for the day.
School started with Geography; quite possibly my most hated subject, learning about maps, contours, deforestation and urbanisation was a massive waste of my time. To avoid the magnets of people attaching themselves to me, I sat on a lonesome desk at the front right hand corner of the class. The quiet of my burrow was soon infringed upon when a flurry of classmates came at me, like a supernova, with questions.
Can you please help me?
What’s the name of the tallest mountain in Australia?
Where is Lake Eyre?
Want to sit with me at lunch?
What are you doing after school?
Do you like cricket?
What is the largest state?
Do you have a girlfriend?
What’s your favourite colour?
What’s the largest continent?
In frustration I began to tear long brown strands of hair out of my head. Why couldn’t they leave me alone? What was it about me? Did I produce a magnetic field or something similar? All I wanted was to escape through a wormhole, to a different dimension; one where I had what I wanted – solitude.
Lunchtime was always a profoundly awkward event. I had walked out to see an entire game of basketball stop, as the bulk of the students in the playground stopped, stared and asked if I wanted to play. Like always I shook my head and gave a polite no thanks. I hid in the library, up the flight of stairs, at least then if people followed me they would not be allowed to talk. That didn’t stop them whispering though. I was reading The Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson, ignoring everything that was said to me. That is not to say I could completely block what they were saying, in fact I heard it all quite well; when one is pestered all the time, they become capable of both hearing what is said and disregarding it at the same time. I also paid no attention to who was around me; I was in another world - Neal Stephenson’s world.
‘What do you want for lunch?’ I heard someone whisper. I had no idea who said it, but from the pitch and tone of the voice, it was likely female.
I did not reply.
‘Okay, I will get you a chicken roll from the canteen.’ I heard her silently tip-toe away.
Not once did I stop reading, even while she was talking. It was as if I were a pulsar, zooming in and out of reality, while still being fixed in one place; one different escapist world. I had finished off another six pages when I started to hear the same light tip-toe sound that I had heard when she left.
‘Hear you go’ it was the same voice.
She put the chicken roll she had brought, just above the book. I saw her hand, small and smooth. I was certain now, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was female. I worked all this out, without even taking my eyes off my book, except to glace at her hands. Not once did I stop reading, not even to say thanks. I was about halfway down the page when it dawned on me; I had just got something for free.
It was at this time that my moral-compass turned due south or more closely to south-east. This is where my tale really begins. This is when what I did, what I should not have done, happened. After hearing one day of my life so far, you can understand my frustration by this point. My whole life was a like this, every day. I know that is not reason enough to do what I am about to tell you, but at the very least you can understand.
I looked around. Even I could tell she was pretty, she had golden yellow eyes, she was neither too fat nor too thin; I guess you could say she was just right. Her straightened black hair sat just below her neck. Reading this you may begin to think I was smitten, but I was not. She certainly was beautiful, but I still felt nothing for her; although it was obvious that she, like so many others, felt something for me.
I whispered to her ‘What’s your name?’
‘Emily’ she replied with a gentle smile.
Feinting interest I remarked ‘That’s a lovely name.’
I walked her home, explaining Newton’s three laws of motion. I showed her that bouncing a ball is an example of Newton’s third law of motion and I explained how Kepler used Newton’s laws of motion to work out the motion of planets in our Solar System and how if you dropped an elephant and a leaf from the same height they would land at the same time (assuming there is no outside forces). She did not seem to care and to be honest I did not care that she did not care. I actually felt sorry; sorry that she had no idea what I was talking about. These things are important to know.
We stopped outside her house, a small compact house with a barren garden comprising almost entirely of dirt. I embraced her and asked ‘Would it be possible for you to bake me a cake for tomorrow?’
‘I would love to’.
You may be thinking, what is so bad about me asking her to bake a cake. Well I will explain to you my intention and my thoughts at the time. I wanted to see how much she would do for me before she got sick of me. I wanted to find her breaking point. It seems illogical for someone to lead a person on, so that they could detach themselves from them; but I regarded it as an experiment, as one giant science-project. If I could find a person’s breaking point, then perhaps I could work out why I am a charismatic-magnet and find a solution to my problem – that was my reasoning. My demands soon grew exponentially.
In Science the following day we were learning about Einstein’s theory of Special Relativity. Emily sat next to me, gently put her hand over mine and showed me the cake she had made, a rich chocolate cake – my favourite. I thanked her. The teacher explained, and explained, and re-explained. No-one seemed to understand, well no-one except me. After the teacher grew tired of explaining, I was suddenly and expectedly bombarded with questions.
What’s an inertial reference frame?
Who was Einstein?
Are you and Emily dating?
I half-listened to what they said, but didn’t answer any of their questions.
‘All the girls are staring at me, kind of evilly’ Emily said sounding worried.
With a calm and reassuring voice I said ‘They’re just jealous. It’s nothing to worry about.’
At the end of the lesson I told her that if she loved me she would steal me the teacher’s textbook about String theory. She did.
I did not expect her to steal it; in fact I believed my experiment would end here. I thought it would end the moment I asked her to do something immoral. At this time I was feeling a little guilty, but not enough for me to stop what I was doing. But I felt as though I needed to reward her, so I kissed her.
‘I love you’ she whispered into my ear.
I began to sweat and shake a little; I was never good at lying ‘I love you too.’
We walked home together this time, holding hands; she did most of the talking. I mostly nodded and said yes or no or sometimes thank you.
It’s really cloudy today. I hope it doesn’t rain.
Your hand is so soft.
I’m glad you love me; I don’t know what I would do without you.
I love animals; especially cats!
I think I want to be a vet or something along those lines, I don’t know.
What about you? What do you want to be?
‘Huh? Sorry. What’d you just say?’
She repeated with a voice, calm as the breeze ‘What do you want to be…when you’re older?’
I had never been asked this question before, even though it was a taboo question. I felt like she was prying. I guess I felt violated. I had always kept to myself. ‘An astrophysicist.’
She seemed genuinely curious. She asked me what an astrophysicist was and what I would have to do to become. I was taken aback, but at the same time found it refreshing. No-one seemed to have a genuine interest in me before, it was always what’s the answer? and are you single?.
I invited Emily into my house. We walked into my room, at the far-back, right-handed (from the direction we were walking) corner of the house. My room is small, very small. My bed was up against the wall, sitting in front of it was my television, elevated up to just above the height of the bed by boxes filled with books that I had no intention of reading. When I was younger I painted my room black, and attached glow in the dark stars to the roof, which I gazed upon, just before I went to bed, with amazement. Later I learned that stars were not all white with five points, but were massive balls of intense heat, that were a different colour and size depending on their temperature. After then I have felt repulsed by the misrepresentation that my room was, of outer-space. Other then that my room was desolate, except for the small chest of drawers next to my bed, where I kept my organiser and books, and the cupboard on the other side of the rooms, which housed my clothes, neatly hung on clothes-hangers.
I put a Stargate SG1 DVD on for us to watch. My bed is not very wide, but we both managed to fit on. I set my pillows up against the wall to give my head some elevation so I could see the television. Emily rolled over onto her side and put her arm around my waist. Her body was joined to mine perfectly, her breasts were squashed against my arm, and her head was facing towards me, sitting gently on my shoulder.
Her entire body followed the outline of my own; we were joined, like two atoms join together in a covalent bond. It was strangely soothing and comforting. If she asked me if I loved her at that moment, I think I could have given an honest yes.
My cat snuck in and sat on my stomach, just below Emily’s hand. Emily moved her hand and began to pat it, resulting in the cat purring with delight.
‘You’re cat is so cute! What’s its name?’
‘Gerald. You really love animals, don’t you?’ I asked, actually wanting to know something about her.
With the same gentle voice she always used ‘Of course I do, I wouldn’t want to be a vet otherwise’. It was hard to tell if she was being sarcastic or not.
I was surprised, no shocked by what happened. I never expected to get attached. After she had left I had to convince, and re-convince myself that she was an experiment; that I was manipulating her, using her as a tool to find out why this seemingly magnet attraction between other people and me existed, and to find a solution to it. I buried my newly found feelings toward Emily into the molten layers of the Earth.
The next bit, I never really understood and perhaps never will. I understood why I asked what I did, but like before it never occurred to me that she would do it. This time however what I demanded was completely unreasonable. I was wrong; wrong to even think about asking it, no matter the odds that she would do it.
‘Would you do anything for me?’ I asked.
Emily nodded.
‘What if we were to escape this world together? It could be just you and me alone together. Would you be willing to take your life, with me, for me?’
Tears began to creep slowly down her face, one from each eye; she slowly walked up and gave me a firm hug ‘Anything for you’.
Regretfully I replied ‘Let’s do it then.’
That one moment felt as long as it takes the Earth to rotate around the Sun; like space-time decided to slow down and was only going to slow down even more. The experiment had gone further than I expected. I was past the point of no return.
We strolled towards Emily’s abode at a pace similar to that of a lame turtle. With each slow, agonising, heart-wrenching step an extra tear or two would slip from her eyes; her make-up began to run. I could tell she was having second thoughts about what she agreed to and I hoped that she would back out. Sweat erupted out of my pores. I was shaking, like an earthquake had just happened. Emily noticed, so she slipped her hand into my palm; changing it from a constant, relentless tremble to an on and off light vibration. Eventually my shaking smoothed to a halt. The colour of my shirt had started to dark because of the sweat; it was glued to my body. I was lost in a jungle of thought. Will she back out? Should I stop this? How could I stop it? What if she did kill herself? How would I get out of having to kill myself? Would that make me a murderer? If Emily would kill herself, did that mean everyone would go that far? Would I ever get away from it? I looked over at Emily. She was sweating too, more than I was. Her face was hardly recognisable once her make-up began to run and was smudged by her hands wiping away tears. She still looked very pretty regardless; a sad beauty. My grip of her hand tightened. I had taken this too far. I was playing with a life; not just any life, but a life that was not mine to play with. She was attracted to me, like everyone else was. That did not give me the right to put her through this. I was annoyed that I could take something so immoral so far, I was annoyed that I may always be a magnet, but what annoyed me most was that I was annoyed. Experiments are done objectively; becoming emotionally involved and having an opinion is not objective in the slightest, and here I was distraught about an experiment.
As we walked the paced we walked slowed and kept on slowing. Time had stopped and then started, then stopped and started again, or so it felt. A walk that would normally take twenty minutes took over an hour. The clouds in the sky were multiplying and began to progressively change, from a pure snow white to an industrial grey. A flock of birds flew behind Emily and me, following us, but never overtaking. Cats, rats, dogs, mice, hamsters, pythons, lizards, frogs and all manner of insignificant insects, crept out of their holes or rocks or cages or homes. People opened their doors as we walked past; they sat on their verandas, or stood on their welcome mats and watched. It was as if the earth itself had set the tone for evening. The weather was foreboding but uncertain. The animals were following either because of curiosity, or their sense of attraction, towards me, which I had spend my whole life dealing with. Men and women and children walked out of their houses, perhaps in fear of the uncertain weather, maybe because they saw the state of mind that Emily and I were in or for the same obnoxious, overbearing, magnetic, gravitational, seemingly charismatic attraction that had sparked irritation and ignited the event. There was not much further to walk. There was no wind and no traffic. Our movements had become stiff and forced. We arrived…
She led me through the front door, very briefly walking along a hallway where she opened a door into her garage.
‘Are you sure that you want to go through with this?’ I asked in a shaky stutter.
‘If it’s what you want, then – then I will’ She was frightened and uncertain, her words lacked conviction, but at the same time I knew what she said was true.
I will not go into much detail about what happened that afternoon. I will say that yes, she did kill herself, hung by a rope. I convinced her to go first and promised I would follow, obviously I did not. I do not know why I had not stopped myself from letting her kill herself and I think, actually, I know that I did indeed love her. My experiment proved nothing; I would still be a magnet for living beings and I had not discovered why people were attracted to me. Well I thought it was a complete failure, until I did my last despicable, morally-corrupt act; I invaded her privacy.
I went into her room, searching for clues, trying to come up with an explanation for this phenomenon which haunts me. Instead of being upset about losing someone that I cared about, instead of being upset about making someone take their own life; I was angry, angry that my experiment failed. Violently I went through her things, draw after draw, cupboard after cupboard, shelf after shelf; I searched every nook and cranny for something – anything. I created a Big Bang in that room; matter was thrown all over the galaxy that was her normally spotless room. Every so often, I would stop and punch her wall or her door (depending on which was closer), each time exponentially increasing the force in the punch. I was caught in a web, no longer thinking, just doing. After twenty odd punches, a bruised hand and a floor covered in clothes, dolls, plush toys and books, I found her diary, sitting silently under her pillow.
February 28th
I wonder what he is like. He is always so quiet!
Most of her diary, at least regarding me, had similar entries to this; also on many pages my name was scribbled.
There was one entry that caught my attention:
April 17th
He is so mysterious.
At that moment I had an epiphany. People were attracted to me because I was so mysterious, because I never said much, because I was so reserved. People are curious, they want to know, they want to unravel; like I wanted to know why people were pulled by the rope of gravity towards me, they wanted to know why I was always distancing myself. The more I tried to hide. The more I ran. The more they followed. Science is like that, the less we know, the more we want to know. Now that my experiment is over, now that I know, I am no more satisfied; I still want to know more. But, alas, it is over and I have done enough wrong. It is time to keep my promise to Emily, because I do sorely miss her.
I bid you adieu.
I have the gravity of a super-magnet; an unparalleled charisma. It is as if I am a black hole, dragging and devouring people’s attention; like I produce an invisible aura of attraction. Humans are not the only creatures that are attracted to me; but animals too, from the smallest ant to the mightiest lion, from the tiresome sloth to the obnoxious parrot. At first I found it to be an irritating; if not down-right frustrating trait, people would often walk up to me and engage in pointless chatter, and bring me unwanted gifts. Antisocial animals that normally would attack or become reclusive when approached by people, would come up and rub their fur against my leg. Eventually I realised, like the Laws of Physics, that this bothersome trait of charismatic-attraction could be manipulated to my advantage. You often hear the phrase what a tangled web we weave, when we first practise to deceive, I soon learnt that that same phrase could apply to manipulation as well.
I could start my tale by giving you a detailed back-story, but I have decided not to, it would prove mostly irrelevant; all you need to know about me in regards to this event, has already been mentioned. You may judge me and what I did however you may wish; although in my defence, albeit a very poor one, I only wanted solitude and believed that my actions would frustrate people enough to detach themselves from me, giving me the quiet I desired. I will start from Tuesday, approximately one month ago…
I woke up like I always do, with my cat Gerald curled between my legs and my two dogs sitting beside my bed staring stupidly at me. I violently thrust my arm onto the chest of drawers, searching for my phone. As expected I had unread messages - twenty of them.
Jordan:
Whatcha doin after skool wana hang?
Charles:
Hey bud, lookin lik a bad day 2 walk 2 skool, wana lift?
The other eighteen messages were similar to the two I mentioned. At this time, like always, I was frustrated by the lack of me-time; it was only morning and my pets had already invaded my room and I have already been bombarded with text messages. I opened the top drawer of my recently polished chest of drawers and grabbed my organiser hoping that I had Science that day; the one thing that gets me through the day. Of course going with the hellish flow of the day, I did not. Armageddon would have been a more exciting, and welcome, prospect for the day.
School started with Geography; quite possibly my most hated subject, learning about maps, contours, deforestation and urbanisation was a massive waste of my time. To avoid the magnets of people attaching themselves to me, I sat on a lonesome desk at the front right hand corner of the class. The quiet of my burrow was soon infringed upon when a flurry of classmates came at me, like a supernova, with questions.
Can you please help me?
What’s the name of the tallest mountain in Australia?
Where is Lake Eyre?
Want to sit with me at lunch?
What are you doing after school?
Do you like cricket?
What is the largest state?
Do you have a girlfriend?
What’s your favourite colour?
What’s the largest continent?
In frustration I began to tear long brown strands of hair out of my head. Why couldn’t they leave me alone? What was it about me? Did I produce a magnetic field or something similar? All I wanted was to escape through a wormhole, to a different dimension; one where I had what I wanted – solitude.
Lunchtime was always a profoundly awkward event. I had walked out to see an entire game of basketball stop, as the bulk of the students in the playground stopped, stared and asked if I wanted to play. Like always I shook my head and gave a polite no thanks. I hid in the library, up the flight of stairs, at least then if people followed me they would not be allowed to talk. That didn’t stop them whispering though. I was reading The Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson, ignoring everything that was said to me. That is not to say I could completely block what they were saying, in fact I heard it all quite well; when one is pestered all the time, they become capable of both hearing what is said and disregarding it at the same time. I also paid no attention to who was around me; I was in another world - Neal Stephenson’s world.
‘What do you want for lunch?’ I heard someone whisper. I had no idea who said it, but from the pitch and tone of the voice, it was likely female.
I did not reply.
‘Okay, I will get you a chicken roll from the canteen.’ I heard her silently tip-toe away.
Not once did I stop reading, even while she was talking. It was as if I were a pulsar, zooming in and out of reality, while still being fixed in one place; one different escapist world. I had finished off another six pages when I started to hear the same light tip-toe sound that I had heard when she left.
‘Hear you go’ it was the same voice.
She put the chicken roll she had brought, just above the book. I saw her hand, small and smooth. I was certain now, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was female. I worked all this out, without even taking my eyes off my book, except to glace at her hands. Not once did I stop reading, not even to say thanks. I was about halfway down the page when it dawned on me; I had just got something for free.
It was at this time that my moral-compass turned due south or more closely to south-east. This is where my tale really begins. This is when what I did, what I should not have done, happened. After hearing one day of my life so far, you can understand my frustration by this point. My whole life was a like this, every day. I know that is not reason enough to do what I am about to tell you, but at the very least you can understand.
I looked around. Even I could tell she was pretty, she had golden yellow eyes, she was neither too fat nor too thin; I guess you could say she was just right. Her straightened black hair sat just below her neck. Reading this you may begin to think I was smitten, but I was not. She certainly was beautiful, but I still felt nothing for her; although it was obvious that she, like so many others, felt something for me.
I whispered to her ‘What’s your name?’
‘Emily’ she replied with a gentle smile.
Feinting interest I remarked ‘That’s a lovely name.’
I walked her home, explaining Newton’s three laws of motion. I showed her that bouncing a ball is an example of Newton’s third law of motion and I explained how Kepler used Newton’s laws of motion to work out the motion of planets in our Solar System and how if you dropped an elephant and a leaf from the same height they would land at the same time (assuming there is no outside forces). She did not seem to care and to be honest I did not care that she did not care. I actually felt sorry; sorry that she had no idea what I was talking about. These things are important to know.
We stopped outside her house, a small compact house with a barren garden comprising almost entirely of dirt. I embraced her and asked ‘Would it be possible for you to bake me a cake for tomorrow?’
‘I would love to’.
You may be thinking, what is so bad about me asking her to bake a cake. Well I will explain to you my intention and my thoughts at the time. I wanted to see how much she would do for me before she got sick of me. I wanted to find her breaking point. It seems illogical for someone to lead a person on, so that they could detach themselves from them; but I regarded it as an experiment, as one giant science-project. If I could find a person’s breaking point, then perhaps I could work out why I am a charismatic-magnet and find a solution to my problem – that was my reasoning. My demands soon grew exponentially.
In Science the following day we were learning about Einstein’s theory of Special Relativity. Emily sat next to me, gently put her hand over mine and showed me the cake she had made, a rich chocolate cake – my favourite. I thanked her. The teacher explained, and explained, and re-explained. No-one seemed to understand, well no-one except me. After the teacher grew tired of explaining, I was suddenly and expectedly bombarded with questions.
What’s an inertial reference frame?
Who was Einstein?
Are you and Emily dating?
I half-listened to what they said, but didn’t answer any of their questions.
‘All the girls are staring at me, kind of evilly’ Emily said sounding worried.
With a calm and reassuring voice I said ‘They’re just jealous. It’s nothing to worry about.’
At the end of the lesson I told her that if she loved me she would steal me the teacher’s textbook about String theory. She did.
I did not expect her to steal it; in fact I believed my experiment would end here. I thought it would end the moment I asked her to do something immoral. At this time I was feeling a little guilty, but not enough for me to stop what I was doing. But I felt as though I needed to reward her, so I kissed her.
‘I love you’ she whispered into my ear.
I began to sweat and shake a little; I was never good at lying ‘I love you too.’
We walked home together this time, holding hands; she did most of the talking. I mostly nodded and said yes or no or sometimes thank you.
It’s really cloudy today. I hope it doesn’t rain.
Your hand is so soft.
I’m glad you love me; I don’t know what I would do without you.
I love animals; especially cats!
I think I want to be a vet or something along those lines, I don’t know.
What about you? What do you want to be?
‘Huh? Sorry. What’d you just say?’
She repeated with a voice, calm as the breeze ‘What do you want to be…when you’re older?’
I had never been asked this question before, even though it was a taboo question. I felt like she was prying. I guess I felt violated. I had always kept to myself. ‘An astrophysicist.’
She seemed genuinely curious. She asked me what an astrophysicist was and what I would have to do to become. I was taken aback, but at the same time found it refreshing. No-one seemed to have a genuine interest in me before, it was always what’s the answer? and are you single?.
I invited Emily into my house. We walked into my room, at the far-back, right-handed (from the direction we were walking) corner of the house. My room is small, very small. My bed was up against the wall, sitting in front of it was my television, elevated up to just above the height of the bed by boxes filled with books that I had no intention of reading. When I was younger I painted my room black, and attached glow in the dark stars to the roof, which I gazed upon, just before I went to bed, with amazement. Later I learned that stars were not all white with five points, but were massive balls of intense heat, that were a different colour and size depending on their temperature. After then I have felt repulsed by the misrepresentation that my room was, of outer-space. Other then that my room was desolate, except for the small chest of drawers next to my bed, where I kept my organiser and books, and the cupboard on the other side of the rooms, which housed my clothes, neatly hung on clothes-hangers.
I put a Stargate SG1 DVD on for us to watch. My bed is not very wide, but we both managed to fit on. I set my pillows up against the wall to give my head some elevation so I could see the television. Emily rolled over onto her side and put her arm around my waist. Her body was joined to mine perfectly, her breasts were squashed against my arm, and her head was facing towards me, sitting gently on my shoulder.
Her entire body followed the outline of my own; we were joined, like two atoms join together in a covalent bond. It was strangely soothing and comforting. If she asked me if I loved her at that moment, I think I could have given an honest yes.
My cat snuck in and sat on my stomach, just below Emily’s hand. Emily moved her hand and began to pat it, resulting in the cat purring with delight.
‘You’re cat is so cute! What’s its name?’
‘Gerald. You really love animals, don’t you?’ I asked, actually wanting to know something about her.
With the same gentle voice she always used ‘Of course I do, I wouldn’t want to be a vet otherwise’. It was hard to tell if she was being sarcastic or not.
I was surprised, no shocked by what happened. I never expected to get attached. After she had left I had to convince, and re-convince myself that she was an experiment; that I was manipulating her, using her as a tool to find out why this seemingly magnet attraction between other people and me existed, and to find a solution to it. I buried my newly found feelings toward Emily into the molten layers of the Earth.
The next bit, I never really understood and perhaps never will. I understood why I asked what I did, but like before it never occurred to me that she would do it. This time however what I demanded was completely unreasonable. I was wrong; wrong to even think about asking it, no matter the odds that she would do it.
‘Would you do anything for me?’ I asked.
Emily nodded.
‘What if we were to escape this world together? It could be just you and me alone together. Would you be willing to take your life, with me, for me?’
Tears began to creep slowly down her face, one from each eye; she slowly walked up and gave me a firm hug ‘Anything for you’.
Regretfully I replied ‘Let’s do it then.’
That one moment felt as long as it takes the Earth to rotate around the Sun; like space-time decided to slow down and was only going to slow down even more. The experiment had gone further than I expected. I was past the point of no return.
We strolled towards Emily’s abode at a pace similar to that of a lame turtle. With each slow, agonising, heart-wrenching step an extra tear or two would slip from her eyes; her make-up began to run. I could tell she was having second thoughts about what she agreed to and I hoped that she would back out. Sweat erupted out of my pores. I was shaking, like an earthquake had just happened. Emily noticed, so she slipped her hand into my palm; changing it from a constant, relentless tremble to an on and off light vibration. Eventually my shaking smoothed to a halt. The colour of my shirt had started to dark because of the sweat; it was glued to my body. I was lost in a jungle of thought. Will she back out? Should I stop this? How could I stop it? What if she did kill herself? How would I get out of having to kill myself? Would that make me a murderer? If Emily would kill herself, did that mean everyone would go that far? Would I ever get away from it? I looked over at Emily. She was sweating too, more than I was. Her face was hardly recognisable once her make-up began to run and was smudged by her hands wiping away tears. She still looked very pretty regardless; a sad beauty. My grip of her hand tightened. I had taken this too far. I was playing with a life; not just any life, but a life that was not mine to play with. She was attracted to me, like everyone else was. That did not give me the right to put her through this. I was annoyed that I could take something so immoral so far, I was annoyed that I may always be a magnet, but what annoyed me most was that I was annoyed. Experiments are done objectively; becoming emotionally involved and having an opinion is not objective in the slightest, and here I was distraught about an experiment.
As we walked the paced we walked slowed and kept on slowing. Time had stopped and then started, then stopped and started again, or so it felt. A walk that would normally take twenty minutes took over an hour. The clouds in the sky were multiplying and began to progressively change, from a pure snow white to an industrial grey. A flock of birds flew behind Emily and me, following us, but never overtaking. Cats, rats, dogs, mice, hamsters, pythons, lizards, frogs and all manner of insignificant insects, crept out of their holes or rocks or cages or homes. People opened their doors as we walked past; they sat on their verandas, or stood on their welcome mats and watched. It was as if the earth itself had set the tone for evening. The weather was foreboding but uncertain. The animals were following either because of curiosity, or their sense of attraction, towards me, which I had spend my whole life dealing with. Men and women and children walked out of their houses, perhaps in fear of the uncertain weather, maybe because they saw the state of mind that Emily and I were in or for the same obnoxious, overbearing, magnetic, gravitational, seemingly charismatic attraction that had sparked irritation and ignited the event. There was not much further to walk. There was no wind and no traffic. Our movements had become stiff and forced. We arrived…
She led me through the front door, very briefly walking along a hallway where she opened a door into her garage.
‘Are you sure that you want to go through with this?’ I asked in a shaky stutter.
‘If it’s what you want, then – then I will’ She was frightened and uncertain, her words lacked conviction, but at the same time I knew what she said was true.
I will not go into much detail about what happened that afternoon. I will say that yes, she did kill herself, hung by a rope. I convinced her to go first and promised I would follow, obviously I did not. I do not know why I had not stopped myself from letting her kill herself and I think, actually, I know that I did indeed love her. My experiment proved nothing; I would still be a magnet for living beings and I had not discovered why people were attracted to me. Well I thought it was a complete failure, until I did my last despicable, morally-corrupt act; I invaded her privacy.
I went into her room, searching for clues, trying to come up with an explanation for this phenomenon which haunts me. Instead of being upset about losing someone that I cared about, instead of being upset about making someone take their own life; I was angry, angry that my experiment failed. Violently I went through her things, draw after draw, cupboard after cupboard, shelf after shelf; I searched every nook and cranny for something – anything. I created a Big Bang in that room; matter was thrown all over the galaxy that was her normally spotless room. Every so often, I would stop and punch her wall or her door (depending on which was closer), each time exponentially increasing the force in the punch. I was caught in a web, no longer thinking, just doing. After twenty odd punches, a bruised hand and a floor covered in clothes, dolls, plush toys and books, I found her diary, sitting silently under her pillow.
February 28th
I wonder what he is like. He is always so quiet!
Most of her diary, at least regarding me, had similar entries to this; also on many pages my name was scribbled.
There was one entry that caught my attention:
April 17th
He is so mysterious.
At that moment I had an epiphany. People were attracted to me because I was so mysterious, because I never said much, because I was so reserved. People are curious, they want to know, they want to unravel; like I wanted to know why people were pulled by the rope of gravity towards me, they wanted to know why I was always distancing myself. The more I tried to hide. The more I ran. The more they followed. Science is like that, the less we know, the more we want to know. Now that my experiment is over, now that I know, I am no more satisfied; I still want to know more. But, alas, it is over and I have done enough wrong. It is time to keep my promise to Emily, because I do sorely miss her.
I bid you adieu.
Prison of the Mind (Poem)
Forever stuck inside this cage;
A never-ending thought filled maze.
Here the darkness grows like rage;
Drenching us in a veil of haze.
Now it seems I’m stuck inside,
The darkest regions of my mind.
In this cage there is a light;
Dim and dull, yet ever-bright,
In this light we put our faith;
These swamps of thoughts to escape.
A never-ending thought filled maze.
Here the darkness grows like rage;
Drenching us in a veil of haze.
Now it seems I’m stuck inside,
The darkest regions of my mind.
In this cage there is a light;
Dim and dull, yet ever-bright,
In this light we put our faith;
These swamps of thoughts to escape.
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