Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Wav Party I: Free Download

This is part of a collaboration that was done quite some time ago. The idea was that everyone would come up with three loops/samples, what have you, and we would combine them into three tracks. What was ultimately produced, amazingly enough considering the arbitrary nature of this experiment, are three intriguing and delicious sound sandwiches for your hungry ears!

Free to download here:


Enjoy, and remember; order is the flesh on the bones of chaos.

Can't Let Go: Progressing

I combined the drawing with the "painting" because it asked me to.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Can't Let Go: Initial Sketch on Wood

I only have Photobooth to take pictures right now. My camera and camera phone have simultaneously shit the bed.

The Dream (Cont.)

I haven't worked much on this one, only a few paragraphs (but will be returning to it this weekend, and probably will just update this post, rather than add a new one). Uncertain of where to go next (though I have the bones of the story mapped out in my head), how to flesh it out, I decided that I would focus on the two female characters in the story. I was not going to do this, previously, but writing in general is pure reflection upon life by the author, which essentially makes every tale a body of non-fiction executed in symbols. In this sense, the stories go where they want to, as a life goes as it does. I don't think I named the brunette yet, and probably am not going to, but she will most likely in the future be referred to as "Bunny". I have not figured out how to tie Mary into this, as I'm quite uncertain of her role. But right now she is somewhat of a dark and mysterious phantom akin to the goddess Eris, seemingly troublesome but ultimately necessary. Here is the first installment of Bunny's dissection as a character. I will begin with the first meeting of Bunny and Adam, though it has been posted before, so the reader has some frame of reference. Again I will mark with asterisks where I truly left off.

“I see you here, from time to time. You are always sitting in the same place. As if it was your vocation to be a reliable beauty, that others may admire your elegance.”
“Oh,” blushing, the girl dog-eared a page in her book and proceeded to close it and put it to her side. Adam was entranced by the shadow of the wine glass that fell gracefully upon her book of childish stories. The blood red reflection consumed the cover illustration, turning it’s pale colors into deep shades of damnation.
“I am a pretty puzzle, indeed. I like to have fun and yet indulging in words intrigues me just the same as romance. In fact, I must admit that I am far more dedicated to words than I am to others, men especially. If I were to give my heart to some silly suitor, he would claim to love me at first, but beyond this glamorous façade lies an imprisoned soul. Most men should want to run when they are presented with it’s unpredictable intensity. What person truly cares for another? This Earth and the events that take place upon it are but a movie reel, and it’s inhabitants are a stellar cast indeed! What is the light of God but the light on the projector? And what is Time but a moving illusion? Every moment is a photograph in this grand charade! Emotions and concepts, intellect and ideas; delusions that fade as morning dew dries up in the strength of the afternoon sun. Things stop glistening. People don’t appreciate the rest of the day as it fades into the darkness. They are always waiting for the sun to rise. Nobody knows how to live through the whole day, how to get through the murder scenes, let alone love one another!”
She sighed deeply and sipped her wine, as if it would replace the agony she felt from such a dispirited picture of humanity with the calm apathy of nihilism. Adam was certain that she didn’t really believe such things. He was not as deep into the cave as she was, and was still able to turn around and see the light from the opening he crawled into.
“Haven’t you cared for another?", Adam questioned.
“Oh, I had loved someone once. It was so long ago that the memory has faded like the brightness of the paint on a wall after years of being beaten by the rays of the sun. The moments are dull and motionless in my mind, though I know that I was once alive in the glory of such passions.”
“I am the same as you, indeed, but hearing such an existential disertation from another is disheartening. It attempts to murder the soul!”
“Oh no! It is not existentialist for me to think these things. I am only looking for something real. Perhaps there is a soul out there that is able to live through the day.”
“Perhaps I am a soul that is able to live through the day?”
The brunette laughed heartlessly at Adam’s obviousness. “Oh, perhaps. Perhaps not. Now if you will excuse me, I haven’t the patience for men today, this is why I have the beloved world of fairytales to escape to.”
“In your pursuit of reality you fill your head with idle fairytales? You are a mystery indeed!”
“I assure you, my humble friend, that fairytales are as real as you and I.”
With these words the fabled Dorothy retrieved her book, hiding her face behind a cover illustration of The Twelve Dancing Princesses. Adam stared at her for some time as she tried to climb over the rainbow into Oz in an attempt to find the truth.
The old man was now without all five senses. A soft voice came from within him expanding like a wave coming into shore. It seemed to yield the loud power of an explosion, though it was composed gracefully of notes he was certain did not exist in the waking world. His entire body broke from its stillness, vibrating acutely that he was certain he was experiencing a seizure. This shower of energy that seemed to come from above and travel down to his feet seemed as though it had gotten itself emprisoned in flesh. With great effort it had shaken off the corpse of the old man, taking his consciousness with it.
Sight was restored to him. It was difficult to tell which things he was seeing were real, and which were of the dream world. He knew that he was still in the forest, but from the ground grew strange plants he was unfamiliar with. The only thing noteable about them was their bright red color. The sun shone strongly, causing the canopy of various shades of green to take on a translucent nature. The flowers resided in the shadows where there was not a sliver of light to alter their opacity. There was not a trace of yellow nor orange to marry the two complimentary colors, that they may work together in a splendid display of light and shadow. The delicate green tent seemed to tremble in the presence of the militant red flowers. And for this reason they seemed more like intruders planning a preemptive strike, than welcomed guests in the emerald city.
The sun was momentarily tucked tightly behind a large cumulous cloud. In its hiding, the shade’s damp chill provided a desolate, yet charming ambience, akin to an ominous mist that elegantly hangs like a curtain hiding distant ocean shores. Cracking branches led the soft rustle of leaves in a dance of sound. The first thing the old man thought of was The Wolf. Desperate to find his companion, he had forgotten the strangeness of all things that were happening to him, and without his body attempted to run far into the trees. Immediately he was transported deep enough into the forest that he could no longer see the edge of his property.
The soft sounds of an animal brushing against growth as it travelled through the forest were more audible now. The old man was certain he heard music faintly asserting it’s presence as a whistling wind whipped itself passionately through the treetops. As he floated closer, now compelled by the commanding nature of the noises which intrigued him, he began to see the source of this cosmic lullabye. Beyond the zephyr that played the wooshing leaves; past the low rhythmic chanting of a nearby brook, was a melody that should have been imprisoned in the past. It was the glue which held together the orchestra of the forest, and the old man had concluded that this was the stuff of the fabled faery music.
What he had seen was not to his liking. He had felt as though a malevolent force had ripped a forgotten image from deep within his psyche, holding it in front of him like a carrot on a stick. Overwhelmed with longing, his heart felt like a once still lake, in which a stone was dropped from the sky. The dull ache that spread out through his being from the initial shock of this unforgivable sadness pulsated like the rings which begin and fade, making room for new rings until the water settles. This phantasm before him was but a romantic poison with a beautiful name, causing a ruthless chaos that would never succumb to order’s reign. The chosen victim of a murderous Time quick to injure and slow to kill, the old man had no choice but to accept this suffering. The red flowers began to grow as the sun became eclipsed by the moon’s shadow. The emerald city was conquered, scorched by the black fire of night.


Adam stood, feeling jilted though she remained next to him. He knew her breed of women well. She was not a land to be conquered, not an animal that could be hunted, not a fish to be caught in the dirty sea net that was the desire of others scrambling to her light, her body, her face that was but a pretty clown mask of tenderenss and warmth no one wanted to look beneath. There were a few that she was stripped bare around, those who had the gift. It was them she was not innocent around, for they loved her for who and what she was, a monster indeed, but when treated as a monster, there was no reason for her to turn on the bright light. It was those who could truly dance in the darkness with her, who would enter that place without fear, that she could shine naturally for with her subtle glow.
Time and again it pained her to live outside of the world, for there was a time she had delighted in the costumes and the glamour. In her youthful naivete she had the ability to be a princess seduced by the poetry of the handsome peasant boy who dragged her to the bottom of the ship to indulge in forbidden festivities. She had thought this was living until she became aware of the maids that scrubbed the deck. These dispirited women who grumbled and wept for no one and nothing but their parched and bleeding hands, were once smitten by the peasant boy and his romantic banter. Nobody had informed her of this, it was the telling look in their eyes when they watched her dance in violent happiness, drunk on red wine and promises of forever. They were remembering with a sorrow that refused to believe that his love was not love, but seduction eager to sink it's teeth in soft victims. The movie reel repeated rapidly across their faces, as if the evil god of longing kept rewinding only to fast forward again. Confused by the scenes in which the film had begun to deteriorate, in an automatic madness the women stared down vacantly at their bedraggled bodies, left only in the company of their own bewilderment as to how they became so filthy.
"Why aren't you dancing?," the boy asked, noticing a subdued expression of horror that had somehow held her childish beauty prisoner. Suddenly it became easy for her to see the emptiness behind acting eyes, how the play had molded her like clay into the role of his prisoner. Once she dried, he could place her on his mantle as a trophy. Cracked and brittle like the maids, he would no longer have use for a statue that cannot dance, and would soon substitute her with another. Like a drop of straight poison he had slipped gently into her life, his calming properties creeping up slowly to cause a philosophical death that mimicked peace of mind. This was an epiphany given to her by some kind of higher force, whether from within or without; her intelligence at once doubled, her intuition now much more deserving of her trust, and her lot in life revealed. While the peasant did not understand her sudden change of heart, he let her climb to the top deck as she pledged an oath to the golden truth of the sun that was setting upon the water, and did not even care to watch as she jumped into the great uncertain sea alone. Through the crash of waves as her body plunged the surface, guffaws of the peasant's jousting with another were the whispering songs of phantoms from a recent past that had already seemed so foreign to her. In the world of men like him, the music never stops. Any inkling of doubt that she had about her decision was murdered violently by his predictable routine.
Existing on the fringes of average living was at first difficult, if only because her brain had to readjust its habitual behaviors. Though not quite the same breed as the peasant boy, after diving into the waters she had happened upon her own little island. Tucked away to build a home in the midst of the sea, she had become a legend for sailors who happened upon the secret piece of a mighty Earth that was hers alone. For it was inhuman, and decidedly imbalanced to relinquish her responsibility as a woman in the physical world. What turns a man into a rake is the stuff that turns a woman into a siren. Her alteration was impossible to avoid. She became less real in the eyes of society, and more real in the history of the universe; A strong and intricate vessel that served to protect a fragile and intricate truth.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

6 Vials

Echos of the primordial
Void before time
Murmured secrets
Of non existence
In soft waves of

The years stitch up the muscle
With old calendar pages
And the ghost of the secret
Chamber in her
Driving passion
Sings a song of
Stoic temptation

And she succumbs
And falls fetal
Inside of an encoded lullabye
And discarded
By the broken boughs
Of Mother

Tears trapped
Behind faux eyelash-bars
Paint punished and
Guilty eyes

Black stare
Energy leaks
Into a deep and cavernous

They bled the child
If there was something wrong
With her heart

Thursday, June 17, 2010

The Human and the Universe: Re-Posted With Addition

I am re-posting "The Human and the Universe" in its entirety with its latest progress. I am doing this because A.) This blog is primarily about progression and process, and B.) I tried reading the newest part over and over again to see if it made sense without reading the pages before it, because I thought I had a pretty good idea about what I had already written, since I've read and re-read it a thousand times. However, I was not really happy with the direction it was going until I read the entire thing straight through. Needless to say, I definitely need to edit the last few parts, because like bones they must be picked clean to satisfy the hunger (and I'm sure there are a thousand spelling/grammatical errors my anti-academic attitude has failed to comb through).

Also, as an author's disclaimer; I do not want this to be read as a "spiritual" text. It uses spiritual concepts/symbols to represent philosophical ideas because it is a work of mythology and fantasy. I am purposely using terms such as heaven/hell, evil/good, God/the Devil in a personal/psychological interpretation, to DISPEL any preconceptions religious history has imposed on such archaic symbols.

For those of you who only want to read the latest installment, I marked with three lines of asteriks where it ended in the last post.

Part 1: The Game

"What is that creature over there Mother?"

"That is a human, Little One."

"And why does it look so sad?"

"Humans are an incredible animal. They are the only life form on this planet that cannot see."

"How can they not see? Do they not have eyes for such capability?"

"It is a different seeing, Little One. This creature has been stripped of many things which those of her kingdom value. Like many life forms in the physical realm, she experiences suffering. Unable to awaken her spirit, her state is like that of a deep, dreamless sleep. She walks with one foot in Hell."

"What is Hell, Mother? And why does she leave her foot there?"

"Hell is the place without Hope. She is unaware that she drags it around her heel. For she is sick, and her faculties for detecting the wretched odor are impaired. She poisons her body with many earthly favors, likening them to candy."

"What is the purpose of their existence, Mother, if these creatures are in Hell?"

"The purpose is a large game of Hide and Seek. The Universe is playful, and this is its favorite sport. But part of the game, Little One, is that The Seeker is unaware of the game. The Universe makes strange noises called music, and leaves pretty things such as shells, jewels and flowers, strewn about affirming it's presence. Sometimes it grants things in a timely fashion, but humans misunderstand their purpose, and call them "coincidences", the uncanny side affect of probability.

But the Seeker is taught nothing of these things. She is misguided by a world that is unaware of the game. It is a world that creates smaller, unimportant games to distract her from the big one. She lives in a paradox, where the big game is less obvious than the smaller ones. To see the game, you must become as big as the Universe. But it is hard to be big when one's infinity is cramped inside a very small vessel."

"It seems like a very cruel game for the Universe to play! Why will it not come out and say, "Here I am!"?

Part 2: Madness.

"Little One, there is a thing in humans called Madness. Often times, when the Universe does this, a human will mistake the profound greeting for Madness, and deny the existence of the game altogether. Even if the human does not mistake this greeting for Madness, she will be compelled to share this knowledge with others. Since most are unaware of the Game, they will mistake this for insanity, and convince her that she has a disorder of the mind."

"What is Madness, Mother?"

"Madness can be many things. It is caused by earthly things, such as misery, which are aspects of misfortune. Misfortune manifests itself primarily in events that cause the Seeker to draw the conclusion that what is good is ultimately inaccessible. One event of misfortune changes the perception of the Seeker. When these things happen, the human falls under the power of Evil."


"Evil is what happens when the Universe does not get attention. Much like an earthly child, when it gets its attention from engaging in acts of Chaos in one seeker, instead of leaving its presence through beautiful things, it will begin to to leave its presence through tantrums. For it would rather be recognized for its destructive power, than ignored altogether. Often times, this causes a madness in humans called depression. Depression is a state of being that distracts the Seeker from the Game, and causes her to exist in a world of personal perception. Because this perception is not Truth, it is delusion. Born of delusion are many illnesses. This is called psychosis, and it further blinds the Seeker."

"Is this why the girl yonder is so sad?"

"Yes, Little One. This is why she is what you call sad. But it is not sadness that afflicts her. For it is greater and darker than sadness."

"Then what is sad?"

"Sadness is the inability to experience goodness. Because its very state insinuates that one is attempting to connect to what is good, it is good in itself. This is a necessary state of being required to connect to the Divine. Sadness is also experienced through loss. To want what is good, when what is good is gone, is sad. Sadness happens often when those we love pass. It exists through remembrance. It is a profound emotion that is a bridge between what once was positive, and what shall be positive again. It is necessary for the Seeker to cross this bridge many times in life. Through this emotion, one experiences the existence of the Circle.

"Then what is depression?"

"Depression is what happens when one stops in the middle of the bridge and misconceives it for the world, unable to see the past, or the future. Depression is inertia. If the human does not continue to move, it will not become aware of the Circle."

"What is the Circle, Mother?"

An Aside: The Circle
"Why Little One, the Circle is the Universe!"

"Then Mother, what is the Universe?"

"The Universe is the Circle!"

"Why is it then, that you call the same thing a Circle, and other times, The Universe?"

"Little One, a chair is always a chair. And the chair is always a seat. But a seat is not always a chair."

The Human: Part 1

"I am here at the edge of the world, accompanied by this nauseating selfishness. The ability to know and the lack of sight that plagues me is a torturous paradox. The only reason I fear death is because it is ruthless in its attempts to pull me toward it.

The ocean is a giant corpse, feeding colonies of life. It doesn't freeze because it is so large. I want to be cold-blooded, as a mermaid, with unruly hair to pluck tiny dead fish from for an afternoon snack. I long to be as vast as the ocean, to swim with the horizon as my goal, until my lungs are breathless, and my muscles without power. First my body will exhaust giving way to weakness. Upon my final gasp, the water will be my air. Devoured by the sphere I am trapped upon, I will relinquish a fear so terrible, no longer a prisoner to its desire.

For many years I have ceased to let the Evil tempt me. In nightmares it is personified by a greedy man, lusting after a burning soul. It has taunted me desperately, "Why won't you give me a chance? Why won't you let me have you?" It seeks me for the shadows, thinking I may be their light. It does not realize I cannot shine for it. I will only become a part of the night, black as the void it despises. Should I let it win, if only to end this arduous battle? Should I let it win, if only to stop playing this tedious game?

My surroundings are glorious, leaking splendor for my eyes to see, my skin to feel, my tongue to taste the sweet and salty tones of the atmosphere. Everything emits a divine ray of beauty! A speck of sand, a seashell, the graceful notes the wind carefully plays through the windows of the old house yonder. I swear, it laughs carrying the ghosts of gleeful, singing children! It is a small preservation of innocent days, as though something has sent it to guide me toward life...

But I'm afraid I have not been graced with the heart to believe that these things are nothing more than little dolls sewn to imitate life, mere fabrications of an intense fantasy, born of madness."

Part 3: Faith

"Mother, if the girl over there is depressed, is she also sad?"

"Yes Little One, she is also sad. Some people lose their sadness and fall into a very deep depression. In a very deep depression, apathy occurs. Apathy is a lack of feeling, and it is a very dangerous state of being. Evil thrives off of this. Right now, the creature is able to know what she is going through, and this makes her sad. This means she is still aware of something good. Her journey is slow. It is very possible she will move towards the darkness instead of the light. Right now, the shadows are much stronger. She is losing faith. Without faith, nothing is possible.

"What is faith, Mother?"

"Little One, faith is hard to comprehend. Great humans have said that faith is the evidence of things not seen. One can have faith in many things. It is very important for humans to have faith in each other, faith in love, and faith in themselves. This is a type of knowledge that does not have its root in scientific proof. It is what great humans have built the world on. It is how humans have traveled to space, built massive structures, and survived many hardships. One must have faith in oneself, through this only can a human have faith in others, and only through having faith in oneself and in others can one have faith in love."

Part 4: Love

"What is Love?"

"Love, in the world of humans can be an unfortunate matter. Love in the Universe is a very positive thing. Many humans do not understand it, and they mistake love for many earthly pleasures. They mistake it for need and comfort, and fall short of experiencing such a grand state of being. Sometimes they may have an idea of love, but do nothing to nurture it, and it dies. It is like a fish that, once caught, you must keep reeling in. If you do not, and are not careful, you will lose it.

Some people are greedy, and when they catch this fish, they skin it, put it over fire, and eat it. This whole process is lustful, and the end result is indulgent. They continue to do this every time their line catches, eating every fish in the sea for their own gluttonous pleasure, never knowing if Love may come of it.

When the fish is caught, it is a life force that must be kept alive. It can get very sick sometimes. Humans do not recognize this. Instead of nursing it back to health, they choose to kill it, so that it does not suffer. Much like a pet animal, they accept its death, and they move on, often times making the same mistake again."

"Did the creature over there make such a mistake, Mother?"

"Oh Little One, she has made this mistake before, but so has everyone in their youth. She has learned her lesson in this matter, but those she comes across have not. No longer has she the heart to feel the things she knows to be true. To her, they are now lies. She likens them to Santa Claus, a mythical man who brings presents to children one day of the year, and others from his fantasy realm, like the Tooth Fairy, who collects the lost teeth of children and leaves little gifts for them in exchange."

"But Mother! That is so silly! For Love seems more real than childish fairy tales!"

"You are right, Little One, but this is why she does not believe. She has not met another who tries to keep love alive, as she does. She does not have faith that love exists, because though she's felt it before, she cannot feel it now. For her, half way through the line broke, and her fish swam away into the vast sea. She does not believe she will find it again, and her growing madness causes her to deny that she was ever close to it, that it was perhaps a large, dirty boot after all."

"Won't she keep fishing?"

"Humans have a thing called pride. If one does not have pride, they feel like a fool. Fools are those who waste their time on idle things. They are stupid, and never learn from anything, repeating the same mistakes again and again. She is afraid of being a fool. For she does not want to search any longer for something she does not know to be real. She is stuck in the middle of a great battle. The light is love and faith, waiting for her to return, but she does not yet see it. What little light may catch her eye is but a pin prick in a giant sheet of black. The darkness is winning, as it often does."

"Why is it so hard for humans to understand these things?"

"Humans live in an overpopulated world that is dense with lies and religion, made by many who have succumbed to the delusion of madness, all claiming that they know the Truth. Because of this, they do not know how to find their own way toward the light. They are misguided. Those who understand that others are misguided are often victims of such false answers. For they go through much hardship and pressure from the mad ones who narcissistically desire the naysayers to share their vision to validate their own delusion. Because there are many imitations of knowledge, it creates an expansive forest of fallacies that make it difficult for the Seeker to find the Truth."

The Human: Part 2

"The heart does not grow wearing of beating. Our lungs barely cease breathing, second by second, weaving minutes into days, stitching days into... years upon years our blood just keeps circulating sapphire blue through our veins, blood vessels like small solar systems, forever sailing through space and... I had believed that love could last this way, if only as long as it would take to number the stars on a country night.

But it is just a pitied, fair little flower, frightened of being submerged in a monster rain, and wilting below an ambitious sun. It is not even beautiful, like a fierce weed, enduring in the strangest of seasons.

Our hair will keep growing even after we're dead; the illusion of life that is love."

Part 5: Trust

"Mother, if Love is just a fish, why do humans seek it so?"

"Oh Little One, Love is not really a fish. That is a metaphor. Love is indescribable. Love is the Universe. The Universe has a process, it is its own life, and everything that is a part of it shares that process. Humans seek other humans to validate the existence of the Universe. Their relationships help them to develop attributes that they may otherwise lack. These attributes are often keys to the Universal door. Through faith and love in other humans who are on a similar path, it is easier to seek the Truth. Certainly you've heard that two heads are better than one. Two hearts are better than one also."

"What about three hearts, or four hearts?"

"Three hearts and four hearts are wonderful also! This is what is called friendship."

"Does the creature over there not have any friends? Is this why she is depressed?"

"No, Little One. The human is very much loved. She cannot feel this love because she sees others as being on either side of the bridge, while she remains in the middle. She feels as though her friends and loved ones walk back and forth, but she does not know where they are going. To her, they just appear and disappear like ghosts. Friends are different than lovers. They are there when you need them, but often are not always in sight. She is what they call heartbroken. Time and time again she has met many who have betrayed her. They appear and stay for some time, promising to walk her to the other side so that she will no longer have fear. Instead, many times, others have turned on her unable to recognize their own fear. Because these kinds of humans are unaware of their own shortcomings, their faulty perception can turn loved ones into monsters. They have often tried to push her off of the bridge, to her death. Now she does not know how to trust another."

"What does it matter, Mother? Why will she not just keep trying?"

"Because Little One, persistence requires faith, the element that she is rapidly losing grasp of. In her hand as sand she closes her fist tightly, unaware that such things require not a fist, but an open palm, that she may keep it in sight, ready to hand to another. She cannot see it, she only feels it slipping through her fingers, as though she is a human hour glass running out of time."

"What will she do if another arrives with the same promise?"

"I do not know Little One. It is very possible she has enough faith to try again. Right now, she views humans as animals who seek only physical and psychological comfort to help ignore their own madness. They mistake this for love. She does not think anyone knows how to consider anything sacred."

"What is sacred?"

"Sacred means having a divine quality. If something is sacred, it is a manifestation of the Universe, or what some call God. It is not something that is easy to touch, and if one is lucky to feel even a small indication of this, then they must practice connecting with it, that it may grow."

"If she knows all of these things, why does she not believe in them?"

"Oh Little One, through others she has found much doubt. It is others that are mad. Again, she lives in a paradox. The world is sick with its own insanity, but she believes that she is the one with an illness. For she is different. In the world she lives in, the majority is considered righteous. In many ways, she is a victim of their illness. She has lived with this illness before, resorting to empty things like poisons and self destructive behavior, believing that power lies in trade, and that she must fill her life with frivolous desires. But she will never again resort to this way of living. Now she will either stay, or go."

"Go across the bridge?"

"No Little One, go below the bridge, toward Death."

The Human: Part 3

"It is getting cold here on the shore. There is no longer a crisp, animating breeze, but like an invisible sword the wind scrapes against my skin, leaving thousands of goosebumps as miniature armies, evident of conquest. Should the sun retreat into the sea before I am ready, I must go home and prepare to live another day of this. Some moments I am more above than below, the sun never sets, for it burns brilliant in the pith of my heart. My human body suffers the rich, exhausting fire of all that is sacred under this relentless star, even when its physical incarnate shines only for the other side of the world. If in no one and nothing else, I trust the sun.

But darker moments have over stayed their welcome, and grown like stubborn vines, stretching into days beyond days, entering shadowy expanses across time. The sleeplessness has already crept into my eyes, prying them open in the most exhausting minutes. Life has already seemed too long.

Surrounded by blackness, those I love the most are strangers in their own little plays, belonging to another life I cannot touch. If I tear off their masks, only death will be revealed. I cannot join them as I've done before. Pretense is no longer an option, for in time the imagination fades, and role playing is too much work. Who and what am I if not like all the rest! How conceited of me to feel different! The madness is taking its toll."

Part 6: Two Worlds

"Mother, what is the girl doing now?"

"She is walking closer toward the ocean."


"Because Little One, she is leaning toward a decision. With her feet in the water, she is attempting to realize what it would be like to jump off the bridge. Her faith is waning, even more than before, and once it is gone it will be taken by the wind and spread out like ashes in an entire shore of sand, and she will not be able to pick it up again. There is a lot of love in her heart, but she has chosen to lock it up, and she has thrown the key into the sea. She thinks that by doing this she is saving her love for the Universe, not wanting to waste it on things she believes to be petty, like other people and their society. She does not understand life as a human, and would rather be an inhabitant of the ocean. She believes that only through death can she find the key to unlock her love, and only through such abyss can she find the proper fish that will carry it far throughout the seas. Her mind is very sick now, and she has created many romantic delusions born of her dilemma. She will die only for the sake of poetry. If she should choose to drown, it will not be as in a dream, like she imagines. It will be very real, very frightening, and very painful. Though there is a part of her that knows this reality, she is willing to accept the pain to achieve such a desperate fairy tale. She thinks she will turn into a mermaid. Such a dream will be her last attempt at finding beauty in this world. After this, she hopes that death is nothing but lack of consciousness. For she wants to return to the place she does not remember. The void prior to her conception."

"And to think, this is all because the Universe is a large playful child that wants attention!'

"Yes Little One, but the Universe is what has given life and soul to all humans, and all creation. How selfish would a human be not to accept and appreciate its gifts? When humans are selfish, they do not fulfill their purpose. They wear costumes that are called 'personalities' and they believe these personalities are who they are. But who they believe they are could not be farther from the Truth. So they go about their days as empty shells, and wonder why they suffer from conditions of extreme stress and confusion. Then they take medicine to heal these feelings. But it is not real medicine, like love and faith. It is a drug, to help them cease thinking, or to help them sleep, or to create a false sense of happiness. The Universe has tried to help these people, but since they give nothing back, the Universe gives up. It no longer wants to play, and it leaves the selfish individual to her own devises, in a world that is only a stage where people are puppets ruled by egos that are created by society. It should be the goal of every human to find their soul, through it they can say hello to the Universe, and in return the Universe will tell them what their purpose is."

"Is the creature over there a selfish individual?"

"She is trapped between both worlds. One is a world where she must keep a personality, and the other does not wear a costume. She is in a place of isolation. Though many humans suffer this fate, they cannot see each other, for the atmosphere is dark and foggy. She does not comprehend either world, and she feels disconnected from both. It would be in her best interest to learn to travel between the two realms, but she can only conceive of all or nothing, for she has yet to understand balance and acceptance. She has many lessons to learn should she choose to stay with this world."

The Human: Part 4

I don’t think I can fathom how to love anymore. I have ceased to remember days when the flame of intuition washed over me, adorning me in the glitter of such divine virtue. Those days were glorious in nature! Despairingly young, the sinews of my heart were unrivaled. Something has changed. The sinews have snapped, and I can no longer hear my heart beating loud as it once did. It seems that any faint patter that sounds is merely an echo from the past, carried here by the long, cruel arms of memory. And if a person does not love, of what use are they? I have seen these people, only their intellect survives. They are hideous, wearing black, petrified hearts upon their sleeves as emblems of destitute lives, with hopeless histories and faithless futures.

I have but one grain of faith left in my trembling hand, but one tear of hope to cry. Could this be enough to birth an ocean of hope, a shore of faith? Where the earth meets the sea, this must be love, for it is the world!

Wait, what is happening? In the silence of my mind I can hear drums! What strange music for madness to play! There is a laughter that tiptoes into this somber air. And something whispers sweetly in the atmosphere. It all comes together like threads weaving in and out, an attempt to mend that crucial organ.

An illusion of music, that’s all. Like hearing someone call your name in a noisy crowd, it is nothing. It’s as silly as thinking the voice of the ocean can be heard in a shell! It is dark now, and returning to the comfort of material shelter, with such companions as books and music, and pretty images of things on walls, seems an impossible feat. Rather I would freeze to death out here! But I have all night to think, for sleep is a friend that does not come around often.

The Passerby: Part 1

What is a girl like you doing out here this late? I have been watching you sit and ponder, thought after thought past the bedtime of these parts! You have been out here since dawn daydreaming your own demise!


What makes you think you know what I ponder? I have only been thinking about how pretty the sun is as it rises and sets, contemplating it’s early morning strength and meditating upon it’s weary shine as the day progresses. I think only of simple things, and they amuse me enough to stay curious about life.


My girl, you speak lies! You have been staring at the ocean with love in your eyes, and as the tide comes in and kisses your toes I have seen you smile, you live only for the affection of the sea. You slowly relinquish any affinity you may have had toward other things on this earth, family, friends, memories, responsibilities. Anything that reminds you of daily life you shove into the open grave of forgetfulness and choose to become entranced by the hypnotic music of the vast mystery that lies in the water before you. It is a haunting and beautiful release from the weight of humanity you desire, to be consumed by such a magnificent power, a symbol for you of all that is unknown to man. If only you could return to where you came from, by way of the water, this is what you think. Everyone who seeks death has their own transcendent vehicle that will take them there. I once knew a girl who committed suicide in a wild garden, thinking that she would decompose into the earth and flowers would sprout from her body! And you think yours is a solitary story, but all fantasies consist of more than one character, and are repeated throughout all parts of the earth in various manners. Even without me in the pages of your sordid tale, there are others that can read your words. Your face is riddled with paragraphs!

Whether they be animals or spirits, the sun or the wind, you are not the only one reading what you write!


I am the only one here, save the ocean! I see nothing else in the scenery before me, now that the sun has itself been extinguished by the horizon. It is just I faced with this incredible, majestic beast of a world upon this earth that we call the sea! The moon and the stars as well I suppose, but their function is surely to dress the sea, enhancing it’s natural beauty. And I could sit here for an eternity and dream of drowning in this vision! For I should be so lucky that such a godly thing would consume me! And I don’t have any concern with the thoughts of others, let them think I am mad! I have been in love with the ocean since I was a little girl, and nothing else could cause me such misery than being bound to this body, cursed with the brain of civilized men yet blessed with such spirit, in a constant battle to live in two worlds, yet belonging to neither! I want to be the ocean, to rise from the surface into the sky and transform into a cloud, and feed the earth that I may exist in every natural living thing that grows!


Says the girl who thinks only of simple things! If you long to be the ocean, why have you not yet stepped into the water?


It is nothing you nor anyone else could understand.


It is the music of the universe that whispers things into your ear, is it not? It is the ocean itself that mumbles what you must do, but you have yet to learn to hear such things properly. Your spirit is not tuned with the music, and thus it fails to process the notes. Then you lose the rhythm, call it a delusion, and enter back into the fog of uncertainty, where there is only, as you said, a little storybook girl and the grandiose ocean; A backwards version of The Little Mermaid! A sad weightless spirit trapped in a prison of flesh and bone, longing for it’s release through death.


What nerve you have to narrate my thoughts!


Well perhaps you should close the book and enter the sea if you wish for the story to end. Otherwise, like I said, the words shine like dancing flames in the dark expression clouding your face, and your tears are merely metaphors laced through your story to emphasize the sadness of it all.


I haven’t any tears! A girl like me does not cry! What you think is evidence of sadness is only a result of a bitter and salty wind brushing past my eyes!


How stubborn you are! It is better to cry than to remain in a state where one cannot cry. In the eighth circle of hell souls are blessed with nodded heads that their tears may fall. But you are almost always in the ninth circle, with your head looking up in the coldest of atmospheres, and your tears freeze unable to fall from your face. You are the picture of death, and may as well step into the ocean. In your heart you are already there, my friend. What is it that you are waiting for?


I am waiting to grow a world of hope with this last bit of sand in my hand. But I may as well give it to the wind, for I feel I have run out of time.

How is it that I can see you? For I have not seen anyone for so long, nor have they seen me! People pass by the shore, at times they run past kicking sand my way, and even then though I see their footprints and feel their urgency, they are just ghosts to me, and I to them.

And how is it that you can see me?


I am a part of your story, my friend. You have written me in, whether you realize it or not, for a story like yours would not be complete without a character of my nature. And I have been in many stories, and I have played the part of you in this one in another life. And you have played my part as well. I am here to show you how this ends.


This is not a story, and you do not know how this ends. This is life!


Is life not a story of which the poets and great writers continue to narrate throughout the centuries, illustrated by the divine works of legendary artists, from Michaelangelo and Picasso, to Redon and Bacon?


Hardly a comedy or fairytale, rather a tragedy, this life you call a story!


A tragedy indeed! Open your hand.


If I open my hand, the wind will rob me of my last breath, my last heartbeat, it will throw me into the sea!


You do not trust me. That’s reasonable, but listen to your heart.


I have not heard it for some time now, though I know it continues beating.


You exist wanting to be ruled by intellect, but even as you focus your thoughts in what you call the rational world, a physical world ruled by fear and emptiness, scattered with empty shells. This is what you and others name Reality. Regardless, the energy in your spirit screams with color, like a butterfly trapped in a glass jar, dreaming of fields speckled with flowers and at times almost tasting their sweet nectar. You pretend, playing the part of a demon with a veiled face and cruel eyes.


I am a demon, an empty shell with hollow eyes! And even if it is an elaborate costume, why would you risk believing it was anything other than real? For if I am a demon, I could devour you in the moment!


Look away from me and fix your eyes upon the palm of your hand. Is it not opened, and filled with sand? You were not paying attention to your true aspirations. What you call a violent wind has yet to rob you of your faith. When you have a fear of loss, you hold on tightly. It is not in the nature of trust to embrace fear.

See the moonshells attached vehemently to the rocks? It is the snail that is strong enough to hold on, its armor is merely a shield. There is something inside you that wants to live, to fight the sapphire waves of the sea which promise beauty, but will do nothing but break your shell, and bear you again in a new one. In life, you have a choice; to live, or to die. Suicide is a brilliant creature. For it is as a fox, a very sly trickster.

Nothing has an end, nor does it have a beginning. Moment after moment creates the circle that is time. Birth is a moment, death is a moment. Happiness is a moment, sadness is a moment. One after the other, and nothing lasts. Existence is a pendulum that goes to and fro, between darkness and light, positive and negative. This is the nature of balance. Nothing would be complete without it’s opposite. Walk into the sea with your delusion, you’re uncertain belief that death is an end, and risk the chance of living again. The Universe is very aware that self inflicted death is cheating. You are half way across the board in this game. Existence is not something you can destroy. If you quit, it may not be an end, but an avenue for you to return to the beginning of life, the very thing you are trying to escape. For you to return to the beginning would be an error, an unnecessary loss of all you have learned, and a chosen failure.


Who are you that you think you know such things? The man who believes largely in spirit and puts little stock in science and the physical realm speaks of “balance”! What if death is a strict end? What if it is a deep, dreamless, dark sleep. What if life is a one shot deal that I do not want? What if a bullet, a razor, a dip into the cold massive void could alleviate this? What if we are merely empty shells with nothing inside, and what if I do not want to exist as an empty shell anymore? Let the waves perish me! For I would rather exist as nothing than be something with nothing inside! Who are you to speak such promising lies!


I am a friend, that is all.

Part 7: Fear

What is happening now Mother?


Little One, the human has done to another what she fears others will do to her. For she is like a wild animal that has been trapped and beaten numerous times. When someone tries to pet it, it will bite. When someone tries to give it food, it would sooner starve for fear of poison. She has attempted to push another off of the bridge, but he is further along in the game than she, and understands her position. She is wearing a costume, and pretends that she is but a shell. She attempts to believe in this because in the physical realm, things can be processed with the five senses. In the nonphysical realm, things can merely be felt, thought about and processed with a sense that is not focused on in the current society of humanity. People fear trusting these things because this realm is unexplored by the majority. People must be reliant on their own discoveries and consequently their own deductions when it comes to such things. It is a solitary journey that is meant to nurture the ability to trust and have faith in oneself. When this ability is nurtured, the gift is connecting with others, and realizing that you were never alone. It is the most difficult journey, so much so that many do not choose to embark on it.


Why would humans only trust the physical realm?


Because instead of understanding the duality of the physical and nonphysical realm, they focus primarily on the physical realm. For example, emotions can be induced by physical chemicals in the brain, but we think of emotions as metaphysical, or of the mind. However, these two things are interchangeable. We can control these chemicals through our emotions, just as much as these chemicals can control how we feel. This is an example of the nature of balance. If we develop the habit of becoming a happier individual, the chemicals will follow suit, and the nature of a person changes. If we persist only in misery, and do not believe we have the ability to change, our belief that chemicals are causing the misery will allow them to take over. It renders an individual powerless. What humans do not understand is that things always start first with an idea, an energy that is born on another level of existence, and passes through various realms until it is made manifest in the physical.
When humans have fear, they often cease to believe in anything more than that what they experience with their physical senses. It is a way of relinquishing the responsibility that comes with the admittance of a humble uncertainty. There are some things that can be known. There are other things that cannot be known. You know certainly, Little One, that the trees and forests are there, inhabited by much life. You do not know, Little One, where this life has come from. It is important to wonder, to delight in the search and understand the ultimate desire may or may not be unattainable. For of course, as many great men and women have said in the past, it is the journey that renders our souls strong. In many great folklore how detached and disinterested we would feel if we were to only read about the final destination of the traveler!

The Human: Part 5

What kind of beast intrudes upon a person’s misery and attempts to rip away the one feeling they have that keeps them from heartlessness? How ruthless must one be to impose their unfounded, frivolous beliefs upon another!? I do not care. I do not care anymore! What have I left but the way that I feel? For I feel as a shell with nothing inside, and I must live as a shell or be nothing at all. And I should rather be nothing without the shell, for such an object is a lie! Who would desire to be beautiful, strong, smooth and indicative of life when there is nothing inside? There is not a soul in the world who would want to become a mask! What is a mask if it cannot be worn? For there is no one anymore to present such a shell, to wear such a mask. I am a costume, not a person wearing one. My essence is nothing.

And yet there were days that I believed in more. But I was naive back then. Suicide is not the trickster, it is he who calls himself a friend that is the sly fox! And I must defeat him before he defeats me! This sand he has given me looks more like dirt! Yes, it is dirt! Yet I cannot bring myself to fling it to the wind just yet.

The Passerby: Part 2

Who is this girl that challenges what I have learned in life? I offer her only treasures and she takes them and devours them like a starving monster to be destroyed in the acids of her death! And I have nothing but love to give her, but she is unappreciative, and does not understand the importance of the heart. And so I shall give up, it would seem. But I have been left in the place she now resides in, and it is a nasty one. It is a world of lies that tells its victims that they must survive in darkness alone to be strong, when the truth is that another must be let in to help them find their way toward the light. And should I continue to try and help her she may only drag me back to that place with a fog so thick one would eventually drown from the condensation. But I am sinking as in quicksand into the spell that her mad eyes cast upon me, and through them I can feel the grasp of this lonely hell she is an unfortunate inhabitant of. I swore to never tread upon the grounds of that place again, for fear its grip of hopelessness and it’s desperate measures at mimicking the nothingness of Nirvana would convince me once more that I am weak without its power. Oh how evil and empty a place must be to masquerade as Heaven! But the glint in her eye is the moon rising over the sea! The waves escape such mirrors and crash upon the shores of my soul. She is my destiny and if I do not save her, then I am not fully saved! Walking away shall certainly hurl me back into the darkness, knowing I did not try to help another. I have no choice but to risk the enchantment of the glorious odors of this dark night that her lovely being exudes. And so I must convince her that I have not left dirt in the palm of her hand, but a pure white sand, each miniscule pebble with its own grand secret of love should she choose to listen at last to the charming murmurs of the ground singing in unison with the booming law of an uncertain sea. For its mystery is only to be pondered! Its story is one that is told by the surrounding Earth. Oh my dear girl, if you would only listen to the chorus and close your eyes to your search for the composer; trust that such beautiful music is evidence that such a genius exists! By now her feet are surely on the cold wet sand she deems blessed by the sea.

The Human: Part 6

I have been reduced to this empty vessel; a mere body that is home to a dead soul. I should soon be fished and used as meat for the hungry and monstrous mysteries of the bitter sea. I am utterly frozen in the midst of this night that I do not feel a thing! What a glorious vacuum that has put my doubt at ease! For now I know that I must step into the water and be consumed by the mystery at last! Should I stay here in this world they would not understand the calm of the death inside of me, and I should not be able to delight in the smile of another, or know what it is to cry the tears of a distraught friend. And they would say that I had lost my mind, when I have merely found a place of rest. And they would put me away, and call me mad, when I have only escaped the vicious prison that is this world! I do not belong here. Certainly, I belong with the sea, and she should demolish my body that I am no longer a shell; that there will be no more pretense of life inside of it!

And what of this dirt I hold in my hand? I shall cast it into the wind storm and alleviate such burden at once!

Part 8: Apathy

Mother, why does the girl seem happy now?

Oh Little One, she has turned into a beast. She has killed all of her love with a doubt so grand that it has propelled her to believe in everything she has feared. All that she had doubted that was true and beautiful, is now perceived as a lie, and what she has feared has been made true. For it is easy to fashion egrogores from the darkness. There are others like her that she is unaware of who cast power into such entities. And these creatures run rampant in the physical realm, manifesting themselves as nightmares and luring souls into their caverns. They render many individuals as imbalanced beings, closer to demons than to humans. If you look closely as she walks into the water, you can see that her shadow now bears horns, and to fix your eyes upon it will cause a great terror, for it has become stronger than her soul. She is the emptiness in the eyes of killer without remorse and the loneliness in the depraved criminal acts of an orphaned child. It is the goal of such beings to create a kingdom of shells, for they are angels of a spiritual death.

Why do such wretched beings exist Mother!?

Because Little One, what is the reward of Heaven without passing through Hell? It is the traveler's perception and interaction with them that is often at fault. As at a zoo where you should not feed the animals, it is important not to feed these wild things with fear. When something is feared, it grows stronger and consumes the traveler. Like a spider feeds off of an unfortunate fly, it is only natural for these beings to act as they do. All things must be revered, and caution must be taken, certainly. But Evil stops the seeker on his or her path, and all he or she has to do is recognize it, and pass it by.

These malevolent energies are aware of the seeker only by the sound of a scream. Hence it stings, paralyzing the individual. The journey has ceased. This is what is happening to the girl, Little One.

The Passerby: Part 3

The water has now consumed the girls legs up to her knees! I am a friend given a task end this horrid display of violence against the self, but my body will not budge; still as the earth that I sit upon. The nausea I feel is but a layer of filth on all things beautiful, try as I might to dust it off there is no cleaning agent that exists that will rid the world of such dirt! This pain in my chest is surely that of a broken heart, for I cannot hear it beating, nor can I feel it’s pulse as I place my hand upon my breast. Perhaps it is only that my body is frozen, but the numbness I am experiencing prevents me from feeling the warmth of life that should be flowing like a red hot stream through my blue forest of veins. Not a person could convince me that it is only the scratches on the windows I look out through! And should I try to find a clearer view it may take an eternity! And should one not exist I should be known as a fool! And should I break through the glass I may be proven that it is not the window after all! I shall know that it is the Universe that spews such hellish things as suicide and hopelessness! And in such a world perhaps it is true that I have given her dirt! What horrible person would I be if I had attempted to trick her into believing that she holds the white sands of love in her palm? And perhaps I shall step into the water also, for the sea is great and filled with life, and below the surface I will find an answer to the mysteries of the universe, the hidden gems within the soul!

But what of all those words I said to her? What of all those words?


Part 9: The Secret Vault

What is happening to the boy, Mother?

The boy, Little One, has given up trying to befriend the girl. Now he sits on the rocks and stares at the sea, much like her. He has been to the place where she now resides, and he remembers it well. But he is only human, and he has much fear when dealing with an inhabitant of such cruel grounds. He knows that to bring her back, he must remember things he has chosen to forget. He feels he must go back there to bring her out. He is terrified that such a place will slip into his soul and slowly extract his spirit, bit by bit, depleting it before he even realizes it is waning. What he does not know, Little One, is that by not helping her, he is suffering that very fate. For it is fear that brings a person back to that empty place, with or without the influence of another. If he were to help her without fear, and with faith, he would not have to go back to that place, and can help free her with understanding alone.

Mother, without him how will the girl understand! Must they rely on yet another to pull them both out of this awful place you speak of?

No, Little One. The girl was lucky to have someone like the boy to help her. Many people in her situation do not have anyone. Remember though, she does not trust people! Try as he might to convey his sincerity, he is but an illusion to her, though one she wants desperately to believe in him.

If not another can help them then how ever are they going to get out of that place?!

Little One, often times this is the kind of thing a person must endure alone. Though others can offer an objective view point, give them a clearer picture of reality to help them understand that they are suffering from delusion, a person cannot truly save another. People are often trying to save each other without realizing that they themselves are still in danger of drowning. This is why many relationships do not work out, whether they be friendships, family or romantic relationships. Humans do not want to suffer alone, so they see another who is suffering like themselves, and attempt to heal through them. They do this because it is hard to walk away from someone who suffers a similar fate, for in others they see themselves more clearly. The hardest thing to do is often the most noble. In such a scenario, one must stop wasting their strength trying to pull another out of the water when they do not have secure footing on the rocks. First they must be in a position to help. They must already be dry from the sun before they can help another. Once they are in this position they can only be giving of their strength. They cannot save someone who does not want to be saved, or be strong for someone who chooses to be weak. For if others continue to help someone who does not want help, the victim will never understand the true power of their being.

Humans must learn that there is a secret vault within themselves that contains treasures unheard of. The key to this vault must be given to them by the Universe. They must begin to communicate with the external Universe, through the universe that lies within themselves. Once they achieve this, the Universe will be able to trust them, and will hand them this key. And then they will understand what power and what love lies inside, and how they can work with the Universe to give this love and power to others. The boy understands this, but he has not understood how to use the power that he has unlocked. The girl does not understand this at all. Because the boy does not have the patience to learn how to utilize this power, and understand that the treasures come slowly, he is losing his faith that he claimed to have such a firm grasp of. He understands his power, but is lazy. Like a treasure at the bottom of the sea, once it is found, it is not the finding that renders one rich. It is how the treasures are used that will bring the rewards and turn a poor man wealthy. But how difficult it is to pull a heavy treasure chest from the depths of this vast watery jungle! Only the strongest man can manage such a feat. If one is not already strong, one must become strong and prepare themselves for an awakening that will grant them many gifts. But again, this requires faith and hard work. To doubt the Universe is again, to remain in a kingdom of shells with only the immediate and common pleasures of the material world. But once a person is aware of this vault, and embarks on this metaphysical journey, to go back is just as dangerous a journey as to continue forward. There is no going back, but as I have mentioned previously, there is a fear that prevents the seeker from moving forward, and they remain scared, and lost in a dark limbo, remembering the comfort of a simpler life.

The Human: Part 7

Finally I have let go of the dirt that was so deceptively given to me by a stranger! Who was I to even think of trusting someone who seemed to descend from nowhere, landing like a hungry fly on this mess that is my life! What a monster in his attempt to convince me he’s a butterfly! I am satisfied now without the burden of trust. What an awful headache it has been, going to and fro from love to hate, from belief to doubt. The uncertainty felt like the rope around a hanged man that wasn’t quite tight enough to kill him. Hanging there, gagging, vomiting, with no way to get down, and no prospect of an end to such torture. But I am at last certain of my fate. The Devil has promised me a heavenly kingdom that lies clandestined on the bottom of the sea, where the water is clear and warm, and swimming through it feels like flying through spring air on the mountains; where fish with legs live in little towns made of rocks! Where I, a mermaid princess shall return to my throne, from whence I was so viciously kidnapped prior to my birth, when I was still a spirit without the burden of this body! This is real, yes, this immutable dream! I will show him, with this growing anger in my heart, how unreal his vision of life is! How God’s earth is nothing but a farçe, a closet of costumes and a trunk filled with props! How the Devil and his treasures shine brightly despite God’s empty world! I will show him that I am strong enough to relinquish this lie, for something much more real!

But what is he doing over there? How curious, for he does not look like the same boy I remember. There is something quite still about him, as if he has himself escaped from his body, as if all that is left is his body. What has happened to his spirit?

The Passerby: Part 4

What is this white sand that is pitched at me by the muscles of a cruel wind? The breeze is becoming violent, mocking me, taking my words, my beliefs, and blinding me with them, rendering me a fool! Oh how I had sworn, I had sworn never to return here! But here I am, in that place without passion, without emotion, lacking in effort and teeming with apathy. The agony of pre-existence with some small glimmer of hope for a new world; trapped in a void with only a memory of human life. What if I have been here forever? What if my memories are not real? For they are suffocating drastically as the cold flames of hell cover them with a sheet of ice so thick I can no longer see what is underneath. I am certain I have once loved. I am certain I have once hated. I am certain I was once a person who was strong in my convictions, convictions given to me by a life where I fought for Truth. But many lives within one life I feel I have lived. And who was that naive fool who told stories to an unknown girl to try and save her? And why did he want to save her anyway? Let her die, for she is one among many. And I shall let myself die also, for I am only one among many. And in this place we are not life, but much like puppets for life to play with at times and then put away. Life, it has put us away to remain powerless and stagnant, in some child’s playroom, on the bottom of a pile of toys that it has grown tired of. Oh how has it left me again, this God, this power, this passion, the mysteries of the Universe, how has it left me once more?! But I am tired of this, and perhaps I am wiser than the girl in knowing that the ocean does not hold a dream, perhaps I know how awful it will be when I drown, but surely nothing, nothing at all is better than this apathy which twists itself around my being like a slow and hungry serpent.

Starkweather Reviews

These are some reviews that have surfaced in the metal world since the release of Starkweather's This Sheltering Night. As mentioned long ago in a previous blog post, Sophia Perennis (my experimental ambient/some call it noise {I hate calling it noise cuz noise kids piss me off}) project, has contributed two tracks as interludes on this release. The entire album is great. Interludes provided by Dälek also add a little spice to the composition, yet it does not fail to flow cohesively at all. Personally, I like it more than their first release Croaton, but I am not about to write my own review. So here, check these links if you care:





(I think this one has some misinformation about the track "The End of All Things." I'm pretty sure they meant to reference a difference song, as that is one of the soundscapes which does not embody the essence of Starkweather)





Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Things You Can't Touch

You turn to the left
In your empty bed
To make things right

I feel sick from late nights
Disenchanted, unattached
To the actions, the words
The crowds
That move in
Stay out

You turn to the right
In your empty bed
So it doesn't feel like
I left

I lost my identity inside of the laughter
Abandoned my ghost in the coat check
At the bar

My body wants more
I don't

I stare at the ceiling
In my empty bed
Like there is no sky
Above it

The water stains
Look like angels
Around the flickering
Yellow bulb
That is heaven

Almost awake
Sleep-eyed and
Drunk dreaming
I spy you through
Pieces of the wine glass
I didn't mean to break

You are struggling
To see me

You act like you're happy
Breathing in
Breathing out
As you leave yourself
Floating inside of
Empty word bubbles
Convulsing on ecstasy
Inside of any paradise
You can reach

Like a fly in the light
On my ceiling

Friday, June 11, 2010

Out of Season

I found a dying man
Outside the garden where
Things needed
In a time of forgiveness
He was digging up stones
He thought were pieces of
I said, "Can I help you sir?"
And he said,
"No, can I help you?"

I couldn't bear to leave him
So I began to help him dig
He stopped and said,
"Don't pretend that you can hear
The voice that's calling out to me."

I was only trying to help him live.

Well I couldn't bear
To let that dying girl
Just walk away
So I answered when she asked
What I was looking for,

"A reason."

She smiled as if she knew
Better than to live for anything

Grabbed the rocks out of my hand
Tossed them into the garden and said,

"God is out of season."

I was only trying to help her live.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Sunday, June 6, 2010

To Want

Without knowing
You'll achieve
Or like the man inside the bottle
Never want anything