"Never trust anybody more than you are forced to. It helps with damage control later on." I have a huge problem with breaking this rule. My friends have and will always be my vulnerability. But you didn't hear that from me. I got up from my computer, and walked outside. The cold air wrapped around me like a forsaken blanket as I moved outside. I dialed into my Amsterdam VoIP server, which routed my phone call through 3 European countries free of charge and then made the call to Alex's cell. This made things convenient for keeping my identity a secret. And if they needed to call me, they got the international number. Foolproof.
"One day and already problems Alex? I'm disappointed."
"Don't be Soul, it was a stupid Philadelphia lackie who fucked this one up."
"I don't share the same stock of trust for those people as you. Call the others, it's time for a meeting."
"First of all, it's a cousin of mine. And second of all, since when did I become your secretary?"
"Lets see, Alex." I put stress on her name to prove my point. "Am I clear?"
"Ugh." And she hung up.
Sorry, Alex but you're still a Rook on my side. Regardless of my respect for you. I felt no remorse for my exploitation, for the simple fact that it was necessary. I returned to the confines of the movie theater, and examined my computer again.
"Terminal01#(unknown routing address): Meeting at 5:00. Be punctual."
Rook A6 to A8. I told Max I was going to have to adjourn for a while, in short words. My car was awaiting me, just as I left it. Only now it toted two orange slips of paper. Parking in front of a fire hydrant and expired inspection. God damn it. I tore them from underneath my windshield wiper and stuffed them into my glove box. I'll save those for a rainy day. My car started and hummed expectantly. Eager to be driven.
I took off down Fifth Avenue with a bit more speed than I should've, but I didn't care. A pedestrian waved at me to slow down. "I appreciate the suggestion, Asstits." I had no tolerance for people who did that. My car screeched as I made the turn onto Sandford Boulevard, and right onto Hutch South. Too much speed there I guess. As I came up the on ramp, I braked and shifted into first gear. My adrenal glands were ready to cleanse my mind of all thoughts for the upcoming trip. Without a second though, I floored it.
My car roared with life as I was pushed into the soft fabric of my seat. 4k, 5k, 6k, Redline. "Shift." 60,70,80,90. "Shift." I said the word aloud to myself as if commanding my lifeless body to listen. 4k, 5k, 6k, Redline. "Shift." The entire moment was liquid. Fluid and out of control. Alice in Chains began to blast out of my speakers. "I feel so alone, Gonna end up a big ol' pile of them bones." I screamed the lyrics with all my might. 100,110,120... "Cmon, Baby, Cmon!" I yelled at my car to reach the speed of light, where nothing matters anymore. Forth gear was not as giving to me as it's predecessors, and I was forced to slow down before I could reach my favorite speed. 130. Pause.
Remember, when I said that sleeping was the only time I really felt free? Thats not completely true. Driving is the only other time I felt free and thoughtless. When I drive, I act completely on impulse and it works very well. When I drive like I do, I'm no longer connected to the reality that I dwell in daily. I create my own, and it is empty. And it is wonderful.
Play. My movement down the highway was now largely obstructed. I barely held 50 miles an hour. I was lucky to get the short run that I did considering rush hour was imminent. I arrived at 5:05. So much for being punctual. I parked in my usual spot on Mayflower, and walked in the newly minted night. Like I said, short days are especially shorter when you sleep late. The city was alight with life, which is characteristic of the early night. We didn't have the shielding of our deeply nocturnal lifestyle to protect us from others. I repeated my actions from my first visit. Stash all the items in my pockets. Hide my car keys underneath my rear bumper. Hide the screen and iPod. Being meticulous was important.
The cars made sloshing noises as they passed by me in the street. There was something I always enjoyed about city blocks that my small town didn't have. It was the ambiguity of the small town blocks, that made me dislike them. I always appreciated the defined aspect of the city. Organized into sectors, of mostly even length. It was an organizational maniac's wet dream. The trees down here equally as bare as in my neighborhood, and a cold wind found nothing to rustle on those branches. It instead turned it's attention to me, walking down the sidewalk. I however, breathed in deeply the air that it attacked me with. Fresh air was something something I could always appreciate.
I took my time, walking up those steps, and awaiting the front door. Four kids were riding down the block on their bikes. They laughed and yelled. "Sup whitey." I laughed too. I'm not sure if I was laughing at them, or at myself. I turned back to see the large black door open and awaiting my entrance. But it contained no one but the blank, dark room. I guess thats a token for being late. Time for business.
(End Chapter 10.)
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Chapter 9 "Breathe Out Your Soul"
"Don't forget that no one can ever see your truth." When I was younger, I was supremely confused by this line. Now I really think I understand. There are some advantages to working and living in a small town. The commute to anywhere is nothing, including work. I was surprised to find the ice on my monotone gray steps, had melted. The white powder on my beige Honda clung to my car for dear life. The sun massacred the beautiful snow of the night before, relentlessly. It was a very bright day, and the bare trees gave me no protection from the Sun's piercing rays. Still, the air was crisp with winter. People were shoveling snow across the street. The scrape of their shovel on the sidewalk could be heard for miles.
My locks were still semi-frozen and required some key coaxing to open my door. Still though, my engine woke up immediately from it's cold slumber happily. I wish it was that easy for me. My iPod decided to shuffle up a favorite song of mine. While I awaited my engine to warm itself, I sang the lyrics. "Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding..." I loved that line. When I echoed the words, it just reminded me of my disdain for so much this world has to offer. My car popped into drive with a click.
The small town movie theater that I work at is exactly as you'd expect it to be. An old, white, beaten up building. It sported ceramic shingles on it's semi-peaked roofs. Very large glass windows in front, and large glass entrance doors as well. Privacy was not included in the design for this theater. The parking lot was filled with plowed snow, so I parked on the street. The large glass door opened with a whoosh. My feet clicked on the sticky tile floor.
"Hey Max, What's up?"
"Same old stuff, Pretty much. You just wake up?" Said the figure behind the glowing silver MacBook Pro.
"How can you tell?" My humorous sarcasm is all too common. But at least we both enjoyed that.
I opened the safe, and sorted the money for the drawers with ease. After doing this for so long, counting isn't an active process anymore. I let my mind drift as I prepared for opening. I hummed the lyrics to my song. "I'm not sick but I'm not well... And I'm so hot, because I'm in Hell" I couldn't tell you how true this felt. The process of preparing the projector had become second nature as well. Without a second thought, I walked back downstairs to join Max at our staff table behind the counter.
Max and I met up during the summer through some friends. We both got along really well, for the simple fact that we are very similar. Neither of us care what people think, as long as we're having a good time. I have a lot of respect for people like that. My iBook powered on with a cheerful orchestra chime characteristic of Macintosh computers. My aimless surfing grew tiresome after a while. I grabbed myself a small fountain Coke. It tasted good, and caffeine was going to help get me started again. The sound of the dispensing soda was still ringing in my brain. Fsssssssh.
"Think we'll get anybody for this show?" Max had worked the previous shows this week, so at the very least would know if anybody was coming to see it.
"Doubt it, this movie sucks."
The show time came quickly, and without any takers we were forced to waste time until the next show. I neglected my computer for a while, and walked outside to enjoy the cold. The bright sun had already started to fade behind earth again. My favorite part of the winter is the short days and long nights. The stone patio of the theater looked out upon a perfect spot for watching the sunset. I stood in awe of the beautiful array of clouds and colors projected across the sky for what seemed like hours. I floated in between time for a short while, and allowed my head to clear. I let out a sigh, satisfied. It felt like I had breathed out my soul.
I returned to my computer with a message waiting, from my terminal.
"Terminal 01#Relinquished@nny.optonline.663-net: Soul, We have got a problem."
Maybe today isn't going to be as boring as I thought.
(End Chapter 9.)
My locks were still semi-frozen and required some key coaxing to open my door. Still though, my engine woke up immediately from it's cold slumber happily. I wish it was that easy for me. My iPod decided to shuffle up a favorite song of mine. While I awaited my engine to warm itself, I sang the lyrics. "Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding..." I loved that line. When I echoed the words, it just reminded me of my disdain for so much this world has to offer. My car popped into drive with a click.
The small town movie theater that I work at is exactly as you'd expect it to be. An old, white, beaten up building. It sported ceramic shingles on it's semi-peaked roofs. Very large glass windows in front, and large glass entrance doors as well. Privacy was not included in the design for this theater. The parking lot was filled with plowed snow, so I parked on the street. The large glass door opened with a whoosh. My feet clicked on the sticky tile floor.
"Hey Max, What's up?"
"Same old stuff, Pretty much. You just wake up?" Said the figure behind the glowing silver MacBook Pro.
"How can you tell?" My humorous sarcasm is all too common. But at least we both enjoyed that.
I opened the safe, and sorted the money for the drawers with ease. After doing this for so long, counting isn't an active process anymore. I let my mind drift as I prepared for opening. I hummed the lyrics to my song. "I'm not sick but I'm not well... And I'm so hot, because I'm in Hell" I couldn't tell you how true this felt. The process of preparing the projector had become second nature as well. Without a second thought, I walked back downstairs to join Max at our staff table behind the counter.
Max and I met up during the summer through some friends. We both got along really well, for the simple fact that we are very similar. Neither of us care what people think, as long as we're having a good time. I have a lot of respect for people like that. My iBook powered on with a cheerful orchestra chime characteristic of Macintosh computers. My aimless surfing grew tiresome after a while. I grabbed myself a small fountain Coke. It tasted good, and caffeine was going to help get me started again. The sound of the dispensing soda was still ringing in my brain. Fsssssssh.
"Think we'll get anybody for this show?" Max had worked the previous shows this week, so at the very least would know if anybody was coming to see it.
"Doubt it, this movie sucks."
The show time came quickly, and without any takers we were forced to waste time until the next show. I neglected my computer for a while, and walked outside to enjoy the cold. The bright sun had already started to fade behind earth again. My favorite part of the winter is the short days and long nights. The stone patio of the theater looked out upon a perfect spot for watching the sunset. I stood in awe of the beautiful array of clouds and colors projected across the sky for what seemed like hours. I floated in between time for a short while, and allowed my head to clear. I let out a sigh, satisfied. It felt like I had breathed out my soul.
I returned to my computer with a message waiting, from my terminal.
"Terminal 01#Relinquished@nny.optonline.663-net: Soul, We have got a problem."
Maybe today isn't going to be as boring as I thought.
(End Chapter 9.)
Monday, December 17, 2007
Chapter 8 "Humdrum Life"
By now, you must realize that I spend way too much time inside my own head. I don't have time for errors, donning different personalities and identities. So when I'm not under that pressure, I'm still under that pressure. I've really learned to appreciate the time I get to sleep. Fall through darkness, the only time that I feel completely real. I'm always alone when I sleep, when I dream. Thats the best part about it. "WHERE EVIL DWELLS, NORTH FORK, LI" Oh, well thats my queue. Time to become synthetic again.
I opened my eyes to the pounding sound of Fear Factory, screaming about evil. Their sinister guitar riffs where enough to drag me out of my bed. My sound system powered off with a distinct click. My clock read 2:55PM. Though, it was actually 1:45... Stupid clock. I enjoy the luxury of sleeping so late because I decided to take some time off of school to 'find myself.' Of course, my parents don't know about that. Another example of a fake identity I had to carry.
My laptop was flashing red prompts at me. Some random emails from my Mom, job offers and I had an indication that I had a Facebook message. My house was silent in the aftermath of my massive alarm clock, so the clicking of the keys was somewhat refreshing. I checked all of my contacts, to see if I had any true 'work' lined up for today. No hits. Thats nice, but boring. I decided to have some fun in Westchester's backbone servers. I jumped through finding activity everywhere. People checking email, watching porn, looking up cooking recipes and the list continues. The information was all passing through my computer, for me to do what I liked with it. I watched the passwords and various serial numbers pile up with extreme speed. Big Brother is always watching. I grew bored of this operation fairly quickly, as it wasn't an active process. My spiders did all the work for me.
As the stereotype would have it, my room was located in the basement of that small but quaint house. This didn't allow me direct privacy, but with the upside of having an entire floor and dedicated room for my cluster nodes. My office doubled as the laundry room, which had it's ups and downs. My office, where most of my dirty work took place was lit by florescent lights, with a white tile floor extending throughout the basement. I had your average computer desk in here, and a seemingly innocent laptop. My walls were populated by various posters, drawings and other objects. There were stolen road signs, a fried video card, halves of skateboards, I could keep going. My walls were my own little collage you could say. I loved this place.
Beep beep da-da-ta-da-dum, My cellphone happily chimed and vibrated on my desk. The caller ID read 'Max Miller.' I answered, partially realizing why I receiving the call.
"Hey Maximus, What's up?"
"Nothing much dude, except that you aren't at work."
"Fuck. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Cool. Later."
"Later."
I checked my clock again, and it mockingly read 4:30PM. I guess time really flies when you're having fun.
(End Chapter 8.)
I opened my eyes to the pounding sound of Fear Factory, screaming about evil. Their sinister guitar riffs where enough to drag me out of my bed. My sound system powered off with a distinct click. My clock read 2:55PM. Though, it was actually 1:45... Stupid clock. I enjoy the luxury of sleeping so late because I decided to take some time off of school to 'find myself.' Of course, my parents don't know about that. Another example of a fake identity I had to carry.
My laptop was flashing red prompts at me. Some random emails from my Mom, job offers and I had an indication that I had a Facebook message. My house was silent in the aftermath of my massive alarm clock, so the clicking of the keys was somewhat refreshing. I checked all of my contacts, to see if I had any true 'work' lined up for today. No hits. Thats nice, but boring. I decided to have some fun in Westchester's backbone servers. I jumped through finding activity everywhere. People checking email, watching porn, looking up cooking recipes and the list continues. The information was all passing through my computer, for me to do what I liked with it. I watched the passwords and various serial numbers pile up with extreme speed. Big Brother is always watching. I grew bored of this operation fairly quickly, as it wasn't an active process. My spiders did all the work for me.
As the stereotype would have it, my room was located in the basement of that small but quaint house. This didn't allow me direct privacy, but with the upside of having an entire floor and dedicated room for my cluster nodes. My office doubled as the laundry room, which had it's ups and downs. My office, where most of my dirty work took place was lit by florescent lights, with a white tile floor extending throughout the basement. I had your average computer desk in here, and a seemingly innocent laptop. My walls were populated by various posters, drawings and other objects. There were stolen road signs, a fried video card, halves of skateboards, I could keep going. My walls were my own little collage you could say. I loved this place.
Beep beep da-da-ta-da-dum, My cellphone happily chimed and vibrated on my desk. The caller ID read 'Max Miller.' I answered, partially realizing why I receiving the call.
"Hey Maximus, What's up?"
"Nothing much dude, except that you aren't at work."
"Fuck. I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Cool. Later."
"Later."
I checked my clock again, and it mockingly read 4:30PM. I guess time really flies when you're having fun.
(End Chapter 8.)
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Chapter 7 "Pugilism"
"When you're numb, the world is your enemy." Something I came to realize a very long time ago. The center man stepped forward. I saw the red bandana underneath his hood. It didn't take much to realize what was happening.
"Yo. Where ya from?"
"Around. What difference is it to you?" I was unsure if it was a good idea to provoke them.
"Fork over ya fuckin' money, If ya know wha' good for ya."
Alex stepped closer to me, and I put her behind me.
"I'd rather not. It is way past our bedtime, so if you'll excuse me gentlemen." Adrenaline was already coursing through my veins again. My heart rate increased to prepare for what ever was going to happen.
"Imma kill you fool. And ya bitch too."
"Wrong."
I felt my boot connect with his ribs immediately. Before he even knew what was coming. Before I even realized what I had done. My crushing blow took them all by surprise, and this was all I needed. We ran as fast as we could, back up that winding block. My lungs burned. My heart raced, and threatened to break out of it's housing inside my chest. My mind was moving many times faster than my heart. Mayflower connects with Edison which connects to Middletown. We ran up one block, and then up the next. I only saw two pursuers behind us. I could tell they were too out of shape to keep this up for much longer. Trees flashed by me, parked cars, many different colors and shapes. I was flying through time, with my new companion. My muscles wanted to stop, but my mind would not allow. Could not allow. I could tell Alex was tiring too. We made a sharp left at Philip Ave, and ran up into a driveway. There was a blue Ford Taurus parked there. I motioned her down, and we crouched behind the car out of sight.
I heard our pursuers run by the driveway. Wheezing and coughing. It was now that I appreciated all those trips to the skate park in the summer. The pursuit was over, and the prey had escaped. I breathed hard, but quietly. Alex looked at me, and relaxed her tense face.
"So.. Where'd you learn to run like that?" I was very interested in the new girl I had just met minutes before.
"Preston Track team actually."
"Oh god, you were a Preston girl?"
"Save it, Soul. Lets get the fuck out of here."
My nose was starting to run. I got up and started to walk towards the end of the driveway. Alex followed shortly behind me. I crouched down at the end of the driveway, and peered out. Coast was clear. We both exited and continued down this very dark block. The streetlights were out in too many spots for us to be seen outright. I appreciated the darkness, because in darkness I didn't have a shadow, Iwas the shadow.
"Well, as luck would have it... This is where I parked."
"Fancy that... Holy shit. Is this your car?"
"Uhh.. Yes."
"A 65' Big Block 454 Chevelle?!"
"Quiet, Soul. I know she's a beauty but I don't feel like having the windows bashed in tonight."
"It's snowing though. This is no winter car."
"I didn't have a choice. Daddy dearest took my Beemer."
"...I've got a lot to learn about you, Don't I?"
"Yup. Thanks for saving the day back there."
She kissed me on the cheek. It was warm. But I'm too cold for that.
"Catch you later, Alex. I'll be giving you a call tomorrow about that information drop."
"See you Soul."
I stood for a moment, to listen to the 454 cubic inch big block engine awaken. It's throaty roar echoed down the empty street as she pulled off. What a car. What a girl. What a night. I was back to the loneliness I loved so much. In the distance, I heard car horns blaring, and a bus chugging it's way down the street. The world had started to awaken, and it was time for me to go to sleep.
I made the jog back to my humble car quick as possible. I found my keys exactly where I left them. The lock click seemed so insignificant at this hour. The light from the sky told me that my night was fading quickly. My engine came to life immediately. The cold cabin of my car was inviting. I grabbed a tissue from my center console to wipe my nose. My lights clicked on as I rolled away. The roads were still wet and soggy from the snow during the night. The drive home was silent and thoughtless. My mind was still reeling from the events, but was too exhausted to process them. I reached my home with ease, just as I saw the sky blend gray-orange. The sun would be coming up very soon. My car's digital clock seemed to sparkle. 5:23. My door slam seemed to cascade down my block. Empty and lifeless as it was, I felt at home here, now. My walk up the pathway was unobstructed except for the hairs length of snowfall. My monotonous gray steps were now more white than ever.
My first step onto the snowy step, was my error. I slipped on it, forgetting about the icy layer that hid underneath the snow. My knee smashed against the hard concrete. At first, I moaned in pain. And then I began to laugh. It was incredibly ironic, after having escaped so many circumstances unscathed, I fell victim to ice. I entered my warm home. My bed was more inviting than ever before. And sleep surprisingly came easy.
(End Chapter 7.)
"Yo. Where ya from?"
"Around. What difference is it to you?" I was unsure if it was a good idea to provoke them.
"Fork over ya fuckin' money, If ya know wha' good for ya."
Alex stepped closer to me, and I put her behind me.
"I'd rather not. It is way past our bedtime, so if you'll excuse me gentlemen." Adrenaline was already coursing through my veins again. My heart rate increased to prepare for what ever was going to happen.
"Imma kill you fool. And ya bitch too."
"Wrong."
I felt my boot connect with his ribs immediately. Before he even knew what was coming. Before I even realized what I had done. My crushing blow took them all by surprise, and this was all I needed. We ran as fast as we could, back up that winding block. My lungs burned. My heart raced, and threatened to break out of it's housing inside my chest. My mind was moving many times faster than my heart. Mayflower connects with Edison which connects to Middletown. We ran up one block, and then up the next. I only saw two pursuers behind us. I could tell they were too out of shape to keep this up for much longer. Trees flashed by me, parked cars, many different colors and shapes. I was flying through time, with my new companion. My muscles wanted to stop, but my mind would not allow. Could not allow. I could tell Alex was tiring too. We made a sharp left at Philip Ave, and ran up into a driveway. There was a blue Ford Taurus parked there. I motioned her down, and we crouched behind the car out of sight.
I heard our pursuers run by the driveway. Wheezing and coughing. It was now that I appreciated all those trips to the skate park in the summer. The pursuit was over, and the prey had escaped. I breathed hard, but quietly. Alex looked at me, and relaxed her tense face.
"So.. Where'd you learn to run like that?" I was very interested in the new girl I had just met minutes before.
"Preston Track team actually."
"Oh god, you were a Preston girl?"
"Save it, Soul. Lets get the fuck out of here."
My nose was starting to run. I got up and started to walk towards the end of the driveway. Alex followed shortly behind me. I crouched down at the end of the driveway, and peered out. Coast was clear. We both exited and continued down this very dark block. The streetlights were out in too many spots for us to be seen outright. I appreciated the darkness, because in darkness I didn't have a shadow, Iwas the shadow.
"Well, as luck would have it... This is where I parked."
"Fancy that... Holy shit. Is this your car?"
"Uhh.. Yes."
"A 65' Big Block 454 Chevelle?!"
"Quiet, Soul. I know she's a beauty but I don't feel like having the windows bashed in tonight."
"It's snowing though. This is no winter car."
"I didn't have a choice. Daddy dearest took my Beemer."
"...I've got a lot to learn about you, Don't I?"
"Yup. Thanks for saving the day back there."
She kissed me on the cheek. It was warm. But I'm too cold for that.
"Catch you later, Alex. I'll be giving you a call tomorrow about that information drop."
"See you Soul."
I stood for a moment, to listen to the 454 cubic inch big block engine awaken. It's throaty roar echoed down the empty street as she pulled off. What a car. What a girl. What a night. I was back to the loneliness I loved so much. In the distance, I heard car horns blaring, and a bus chugging it's way down the street. The world had started to awaken, and it was time for me to go to sleep.
I made the jog back to my humble car quick as possible. I found my keys exactly where I left them. The lock click seemed so insignificant at this hour. The light from the sky told me that my night was fading quickly. My engine came to life immediately. The cold cabin of my car was inviting. I grabbed a tissue from my center console to wipe my nose. My lights clicked on as I rolled away. The roads were still wet and soggy from the snow during the night. The drive home was silent and thoughtless. My mind was still reeling from the events, but was too exhausted to process them. I reached my home with ease, just as I saw the sky blend gray-orange. The sun would be coming up very soon. My car's digital clock seemed to sparkle. 5:23. My door slam seemed to cascade down my block. Empty and lifeless as it was, I felt at home here, now. My walk up the pathway was unobstructed except for the hairs length of snowfall. My monotonous gray steps were now more white than ever.
My first step onto the snowy step, was my error. I slipped on it, forgetting about the icy layer that hid underneath the snow. My knee smashed against the hard concrete. At first, I moaned in pain. And then I began to laugh. It was incredibly ironic, after having escaped so many circumstances unscathed, I fell victim to ice. I entered my warm home. My bed was more inviting than ever before. And sleep surprisingly came easy.
(End Chapter 7.)
Chapter 6 "Coffee can be dangerous."
"Sometimes I have to look in the mirror just to make sure I'm still here... Thats how numb I am." Explaining that to people was always so tough. I turned around quickly, to see Laura decked out in her long peacoat with a black scarf. I liked her style. Her long hair blew in the slight cold breeze. She smiled at me from feet away, and suddenly my environment seemed insignificant. The orange glow of the streetlights reflected off of her pupils. Like artificial fire, in her soul.
"Hey stranger. Following me are you?"
"Maybe. Where are you headed? It'll be sun up soon, and you need to get inside. Don't forget, the sun burns vampires."
"Thanks for the tip. I'm going to get a morning coffee actually. Feel like joining me?"
"Coffee can be dangerous. I'm in."
And on that note, I turned back to walking. She caught up and reengaged me.
"So.. I see you're fitting into our little group very nicely." She laughed. So did I.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. How did you get mixed up in them anyway?"
"A big mistake, but I got a pretty enticing work order from Ken. And it's paid off really well so far."
"Yeah.. I'm hoping to get into some of that myself. But we'll see. Money has never really been too much to me."
"It'll pull you in quicker than you'll realize." I'm not like other people here, in case you haven't noticed.
"We'll see."
We walked down the serpentine block, in silence. I'll tell you, it was slightly awkward. And unexpected, from someone with a fiery personality. I could tell something was bothering her, and honestly I wasn't in any mood to be light. I was blunt.
"So.. What do you need?"
"...Uh. What?"
"You were the one who contacted me. So far anybody I've talked to had been reached by Ken. Unless you were stalking me, I've got something you need."
"And you Soul, live up to every aspect of your shadow."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
"Alright. So... My name is actually Alex Johannson. I'm from North Carolina. My mother and father died long ago, and I've been living with my foster parents in NY. I am actually 18 though. I hacked myself into a corner. A very tight one."
Pause. This girl actually managed to hack bait for me. And I bit it like a hungry fish. I'm honestly, very impressed. This has to be good. Play.
"Where is this corner located?"
"FBI Black-Hole List. Secure Server #3445A On PPT151."
"Holy shit. What the hell were you doing on there?"
"Erasing my name from it of course. I've been on it since I was 10, and frankly, I'm tired of it." Honestly, you are starting to sound like me the more we talk.
"So. What's the timer on your arrest?"
"The request for it went in 2 days ago, it'll reach New York in another 2 days. And then, off to jail I go."
"Give me a flash drive with your information, the server's location, and the SSNs of both your identities. I'll do a little cross-link from Amsterdam and it'll buy you some time to fix your mistake."
"Wait..."
"Sorry. I don't finish other people's business for them. I'll open the door. But you have to walk through it."
"Why, How kind of you Morpheus." She smiled.
"Don't mention it." I smiled back.
The sound of our feet crunching against the ground could be heard for miles. It seemed more like we were traversing a desert than a city street. We reached the coffee shop on the corner, only to find it closed. A digital clock inside the dirty window wore the time. 4:47 AM. I guess there was too much wishful thinking involved in this plan. I turned around to be faced by four hooded figures. It was too dark to make out their faces. The ghosts with their silent threat.
"You were very right, Alex. Coffee can be dangerous."
(End Chapter 6.)
"Hey stranger. Following me are you?"
"Maybe. Where are you headed? It'll be sun up soon, and you need to get inside. Don't forget, the sun burns vampires."
"Thanks for the tip. I'm going to get a morning coffee actually. Feel like joining me?"
"Coffee can be dangerous. I'm in."
And on that note, I turned back to walking. She caught up and reengaged me.
"So.. I see you're fitting into our little group very nicely." She laughed. So did I.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. How did you get mixed up in them anyway?"
"A big mistake, but I got a pretty enticing work order from Ken. And it's paid off really well so far."
"Yeah.. I'm hoping to get into some of that myself. But we'll see. Money has never really been too much to me."
"It'll pull you in quicker than you'll realize." I'm not like other people here, in case you haven't noticed.
"We'll see."
We walked down the serpentine block, in silence. I'll tell you, it was slightly awkward. And unexpected, from someone with a fiery personality. I could tell something was bothering her, and honestly I wasn't in any mood to be light. I was blunt.
"So.. What do you need?"
"...Uh. What?"
"You were the one who contacted me. So far anybody I've talked to had been reached by Ken. Unless you were stalking me, I've got something you need."
"And you Soul, live up to every aspect of your shadow."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
"Alright. So... My name is actually Alex Johannson. I'm from North Carolina. My mother and father died long ago, and I've been living with my foster parents in NY. I am actually 18 though. I hacked myself into a corner. A very tight one."
Pause. This girl actually managed to hack bait for me. And I bit it like a hungry fish. I'm honestly, very impressed. This has to be good. Play.
"Where is this corner located?"
"FBI Black-Hole List. Secure Server #3445A On PPT151."
"Holy shit. What the hell were you doing on there?"
"Erasing my name from it of course. I've been on it since I was 10, and frankly, I'm tired of it." Honestly, you are starting to sound like me the more we talk.
"So. What's the timer on your arrest?"
"The request for it went in 2 days ago, it'll reach New York in another 2 days. And then, off to jail I go."
"Give me a flash drive with your information, the server's location, and the SSNs of both your identities. I'll do a little cross-link from Amsterdam and it'll buy you some time to fix your mistake."
"Wait..."
"Sorry. I don't finish other people's business for them. I'll open the door. But you have to walk through it."
"Why, How kind of you Morpheus." She smiled.
"Don't mention it." I smiled back.
The sound of our feet crunching against the ground could be heard for miles. It seemed more like we were traversing a desert than a city street. We reached the coffee shop on the corner, only to find it closed. A digital clock inside the dirty window wore the time. 4:47 AM. I guess there was too much wishful thinking involved in this plan. I turned around to be faced by four hooded figures. It was too dark to make out their faces. The ghosts with their silent threat.
"You were very right, Alex. Coffee can be dangerous."
(End Chapter 6.)
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Chapter 5 "The Test"
(If somebody happens to find an error whether it be grammar or punctuation, feel free to leave me a comment with the sentence with the error so I can fix it. Thanks.)
"Life is beautiful when you're numb." Not being numb, means being vulnerable. And I can't stand vulnerability. Everyone left the room and headed over to their desks. I stood behind everyone, with my arms crossed. Laura went over to the switchboard on the wall. The lights dimmed very low.
"A little lighting to set the mood." Another sexy wink in my direction. I could tell I was going to enjoy this.
Some light tapping on their backlit keyboards, screens flashing with life and activity as everyone synchronized.
"Concrete, Go."
"Band Aid, Go."
"Relinquished, Go."
"Moray, Go"
"What's the target?" Time to assert some authority.
"2X2 Attack on a Miami Police Database server." Laura became 'Relinquished' seamlessly.
"I see. Alright then. Fratelli, Laura is going to get you a police database login prompt. Get yourself into the system." Here's where it really matters.
"Are you sure about that? Won't they be able to trace it back to me?" They could.
"No, Laura will make sure of that. You know what I'm thinking?" She turned around and smiled. Great minds think alike.
While she got to work on that, I decided to make use of my newly minted soldiers.
"Vince, still remember how to decrypt encrypted links on the fly?"
"I don't take orders from you, Soul."
"You do now, or I'll do it myself."
Vince was silent.
"Just as I thought. Now, as I was saying. Decrypt the link between Laura and the Miami P.D. Rehash the ID after it's been authenticated, so our good friend Gino here suffers no consequence. Is the door open Crete?"
"Door open." Ken replied, snake-like.
"Moray, you're up. Start downloading the files through that open door. The authentication window closes in 10 seconds."
"Way ahead of you, Soul. Documents received and decrypted." I appreciated Chris' enthusiasm.
"Well done. Close that wound up, and make sure there isn't a scar."
It didn't take more than a moment for them to finish what they started. They were gifted as a group, and singularly. The people I obviously have to worry about, Ken and Vince weren't as powerful as their opposition. My pieces were employing my strong strategy. While constantly calculating my own vulnerabilities. I felt invincible.
"You all pass." I removed a flash drive that had been hidden in the "secret" pocket in my jacket. "Here are the 1024 keys for the DMV of Massachusetts. That includes my server I.P. Don't take it for granted. Keys expire in a week."
"Don't take for yourself for granted, James." Ken had to have the last word in.
"I'll let myself out." And I gave everyone a wave as I walked up the creaky, dusty hardwood stairs. My life would drastically change after this night, I would soon find out. But for now, I was happy for my immediate success. I walked out the large black door, to be greeted again by the cold. It was nice to have my trusty leather jacket, I felt safe and it kept me warm.
I checked my pocket to make sure I still had my 4 dollars, even wallet-less I wouldn't be surprised if I had lost it. I walked in the opposite direction of my car, towards the main street 2 blocks away. As I walked, I ventured into my mind for a while. Since I was a kid, I always loved the vividness of the night. In the day, everything is vibrant and colorful. But the night is vivid. Your other senses come to life. They are being challenged to handle the changed environment. And at the same time, you have to enjoy the peace. The day is filled with too much chaos sometimes. Thats why I loved being nocturnal. A car hummed past me down the street. The wetness of the ground shone in the streetlight. Ice never stands a chance in the city. The air smelled of crisp freshly fallen snow. I was melting into the beautiful night again, basking in my own thoughts.
"Hey Vampire."
I knew that voice anywhere.
"Life is beautiful when you're numb." Not being numb, means being vulnerable. And I can't stand vulnerability. Everyone left the room and headed over to their desks. I stood behind everyone, with my arms crossed. Laura went over to the switchboard on the wall. The lights dimmed very low.
"A little lighting to set the mood." Another sexy wink in my direction. I could tell I was going to enjoy this.
Some light tapping on their backlit keyboards, screens flashing with life and activity as everyone synchronized.
"Concrete, Go."
"Band Aid, Go."
"Relinquished, Go."
"Moray, Go"
"What's the target?" Time to assert some authority.
"2X2 Attack on a Miami Police Database server." Laura became 'Relinquished' seamlessly.
"I see. Alright then. Fratelli, Laura is going to get you a police database login prompt. Get yourself into the system." Here's where it really matters.
"Are you sure about that? Won't they be able to trace it back to me?" They could.
"No, Laura will make sure of that. You know what I'm thinking?" She turned around and smiled. Great minds think alike.
While she got to work on that, I decided to make use of my newly minted soldiers.
"Vince, still remember how to decrypt encrypted links on the fly?"
"I don't take orders from you, Soul."
"You do now, or I'll do it myself."
Vince was silent.
"Just as I thought. Now, as I was saying. Decrypt the link between Laura and the Miami P.D. Rehash the ID after it's been authenticated, so our good friend Gino here suffers no consequence. Is the door open Crete?"
"Door open." Ken replied, snake-like.
"Moray, you're up. Start downloading the files through that open door. The authentication window closes in 10 seconds."
"Way ahead of you, Soul. Documents received and decrypted." I appreciated Chris' enthusiasm.
"Well done. Close that wound up, and make sure there isn't a scar."
It didn't take more than a moment for them to finish what they started. They were gifted as a group, and singularly. The people I obviously have to worry about, Ken and Vince weren't as powerful as their opposition. My pieces were employing my strong strategy. While constantly calculating my own vulnerabilities. I felt invincible.
"You all pass." I removed a flash drive that had been hidden in the "secret" pocket in my jacket. "Here are the 1024 keys for the DMV of Massachusetts. That includes my server I.P. Don't take it for granted. Keys expire in a week."
"Don't take for yourself for granted, James." Ken had to have the last word in.
"I'll let myself out." And I gave everyone a wave as I walked up the creaky, dusty hardwood stairs. My life would drastically change after this night, I would soon find out. But for now, I was happy for my immediate success. I walked out the large black door, to be greeted again by the cold. It was nice to have my trusty leather jacket, I felt safe and it kept me warm.
I checked my pocket to make sure I still had my 4 dollars, even wallet-less I wouldn't be surprised if I had lost it. I walked in the opposite direction of my car, towards the main street 2 blocks away. As I walked, I ventured into my mind for a while. Since I was a kid, I always loved the vividness of the night. In the day, everything is vibrant and colorful. But the night is vivid. Your other senses come to life. They are being challenged to handle the changed environment. And at the same time, you have to enjoy the peace. The day is filled with too much chaos sometimes. Thats why I loved being nocturnal. A car hummed past me down the street. The wetness of the ground shone in the streetlight. Ice never stands a chance in the city. The air smelled of crisp freshly fallen snow. I was melting into the beautiful night again, basking in my own thoughts.
"Hey Vampire."
I knew that voice anywhere.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Chapter 4 "The Meeting"
I turned around in my seat to see Gino walking down the stairs. A bit on the heavy side, with a black goatee and spiked hair.
He was wearing a police uniform, which was unsettling. I arose and stood still for a second, but I received a very close whisper.
"Don't worry, he's with us."
Laura moved past me, dangerously close. I outstretched my hand to Fratelli. It was embossed in his gold name tag. A name I would not soon forget. He shook it, and I introduced myself.
"Old Soul. But Soul is just fine."
"Fratelli. But I'm sure you already know, for various reasons." He smiled. It wasn't the devilish grin that Kenneth carries.
Something about the way that Fratelli went about himself was very disarming to me. However, I did not let that infiltrate me as easily as it should've. Call me paranoid.
"So.. Soul. Where are you from?"
"Around. How'd you come into contact with Ken and the others?"
In the background of our conversation, Laura and Ken were corralling the others into another room in the basement. One I did not notice when I walked in. The room went silent in between the whirring of the hard drives and our interrogation of each other.
"Crete came into contact with me, with an offer I couldn't resist."
"Thats how it usually goes. Lets go see what's going on."
It was cute how Kenneth manipulated everyone into calling him by his pseudonym. I almost felt respect for him. Almost.
Fratelli walked in front of me into the room. I stood for just a moment and thought to myself. These people were not exactly what I was expecting. Instead of leaders, I just saw a marionette. It was too easy to plan my next move against my opponent.
I examined the doorway I was walking through. And it was then I realized why I didn't immediately notice it. It was a bookshelf. I admired the style of the person who built this room. Very secret agent.
I slowly made my way through this peculiar doorway, into the smaller room. There was a nice hardwood table setup, with a video phone in the center. It was spacious enough for the 6 people that occupied it. Perfectly actually. The walls were a mahogany red with molding and continuing blue plush rug motif from the large room. There were no windows in this room, and it was lit by a florescent light in comparison to the natural lights in the large room. It felt more artificial. Understandably so.
At the head of the table sat Kenneth. To his left, Vince and Chris. To his right, Laura and Fratelli. There was one seat open at the opposite head of the table. I loved the metaphor we unknowingly created. Like chess partners at opposite ends of the board. Moving our pieces against each other.
"Nice of you to join us, Soul."
"My pleasure. Shall we begin? I'm growing weary of this waiting game."
"The fact that you're now permanent fixture in our organization, means that you'll have to give me a bit more respect. I am after all, the leader."
"You know what Ken? You haven't done anything to earn that respect. And don't mistake me for a permanent part of this. I'll tell you if I feel that way."
This drew looks of disgust from Vince. Chris was indifferent. But Fratelli and Laura did not act the same, they seemed half amazed and half interested. This gave me the confidence I needed for the next move. I spoke up.
"You know what I bring to the table. Unrestricted access to the DMV databases, in multiple states. The ability to fake administration in two major bank chains. Police database access for the NYPD, and NY State Troopers. Finally, FBI watch list information. All of these systems controlled by my Amsterdam services, but with local servers stashed around the state. These all protected by SHA-2 1024-Bit Encryption. I'd love to see you try and break that. It takes me an hour just to authenticate. Double IP faking, and routing through California from an old friend of mine. You want access? Prove to me that you deserve it. Show me what you've got."
"James here thinks he can enter and challenge us." Kenneth looked surprised by this move.
"Don't be a fool. This isn't a challenge, it's a test. If you pass, then you'll become the 'Vicious 6'. If not, then I walk. By the way, I am not afraid of my name. So feel free to call me that if you'd like."
"How dare you come to this table and challenge us? What gives you the right?" Thats right, Ken. Good boy, back into that corner.
"I have the right. I have what you need. It's easy to tell because you would've done all of that if you had the ability. Lets see who agrees with me."
Laura, Fratelli and Chris raised their hands. Done. Checkmate for now.
"Fine. Everyone to their stations. Lets make this quick." Ken was infuriated, but defeated. For now.
And so the test began.
(End Chapter 4)
He was wearing a police uniform, which was unsettling. I arose and stood still for a second, but I received a very close whisper.
"Don't worry, he's with us."
Laura moved past me, dangerously close. I outstretched my hand to Fratelli. It was embossed in his gold name tag. A name I would not soon forget. He shook it, and I introduced myself.
"Old Soul. But Soul is just fine."
"Fratelli. But I'm sure you already know, for various reasons." He smiled. It wasn't the devilish grin that Kenneth carries.
Something about the way that Fratelli went about himself was very disarming to me. However, I did not let that infiltrate me as easily as it should've. Call me paranoid.
"So.. Soul. Where are you from?"
"Around. How'd you come into contact with Ken and the others?"
In the background of our conversation, Laura and Ken were corralling the others into another room in the basement. One I did not notice when I walked in. The room went silent in between the whirring of the hard drives and our interrogation of each other.
"Crete came into contact with me, with an offer I couldn't resist."
"Thats how it usually goes. Lets go see what's going on."
It was cute how Kenneth manipulated everyone into calling him by his pseudonym. I almost felt respect for him. Almost.
Fratelli walked in front of me into the room. I stood for just a moment and thought to myself. These people were not exactly what I was expecting. Instead of leaders, I just saw a marionette. It was too easy to plan my next move against my opponent.
I examined the doorway I was walking through. And it was then I realized why I didn't immediately notice it. It was a bookshelf. I admired the style of the person who built this room. Very secret agent.
I slowly made my way through this peculiar doorway, into the smaller room. There was a nice hardwood table setup, with a video phone in the center. It was spacious enough for the 6 people that occupied it. Perfectly actually. The walls were a mahogany red with molding and continuing blue plush rug motif from the large room. There were no windows in this room, and it was lit by a florescent light in comparison to the natural lights in the large room. It felt more artificial. Understandably so.
At the head of the table sat Kenneth. To his left, Vince and Chris. To his right, Laura and Fratelli. There was one seat open at the opposite head of the table. I loved the metaphor we unknowingly created. Like chess partners at opposite ends of the board. Moving our pieces against each other.
"Nice of you to join us, Soul."
"My pleasure. Shall we begin? I'm growing weary of this waiting game."
"The fact that you're now permanent fixture in our organization, means that you'll have to give me a bit more respect. I am after all, the leader."
"You know what Ken? You haven't done anything to earn that respect. And don't mistake me for a permanent part of this. I'll tell you if I feel that way."
This drew looks of disgust from Vince. Chris was indifferent. But Fratelli and Laura did not act the same, they seemed half amazed and half interested. This gave me the confidence I needed for the next move. I spoke up.
"You know what I bring to the table. Unrestricted access to the DMV databases, in multiple states. The ability to fake administration in two major bank chains. Police database access for the NYPD, and NY State Troopers. Finally, FBI watch list information. All of these systems controlled by my Amsterdam services, but with local servers stashed around the state. These all protected by SHA-2 1024-Bit Encryption. I'd love to see you try and break that. It takes me an hour just to authenticate. Double IP faking, and routing through California from an old friend of mine. You want access? Prove to me that you deserve it. Show me what you've got."
"James here thinks he can enter and challenge us." Kenneth looked surprised by this move.
"Don't be a fool. This isn't a challenge, it's a test. If you pass, then you'll become the 'Vicious 6'. If not, then I walk. By the way, I am not afraid of my name. So feel free to call me that if you'd like."
"How dare you come to this table and challenge us? What gives you the right?" Thats right, Ken. Good boy, back into that corner.
"I have the right. I have what you need. It's easy to tell because you would've done all of that if you had the ability. Lets see who agrees with me."
Laura, Fratelli and Chris raised their hands. Done. Checkmate for now.
"Fine. Everyone to their stations. Lets make this quick." Ken was infuriated, but defeated. For now.
And so the test began.
(End Chapter 4)
Friday, December 7, 2007
Chapter 3 "Enter, Vicious"
The doorway was dark, but strangely inviting. I walked inside and the door shut softly. I was greeted by a girl and immediately my research flashed into my head. Laura Hernandez. Bronx resident since birth, attended I.S. 128 for middle school, Lehman High School and then Westchester Community College for a semester before dropping out. A+ Student until that semester, lived on 2203 Watercrest Ave, Bronx NY 10465. No drivers license, but a very gifted hacker. 18 years old too. Same as me. The best of the "Vicious" if I had to say. Went by the name of 'Relinquished'. The only person within this circle to have no previous attention from any law enforcement agency.
"Hello Laura."
I stopped to examine the room for a second. Or maybe I was examining her. I sure don't remember much of the room. She was about 5'4, with long brunette hair. Slender too. But it was too dark to see her eyes. They probably would've given her away. Her dominican and italian mixture gave her olive skin. Her picture didn't give her curves justice.
"James. Nice to finally meet the man behind the Soul." With a sultry wink to top it all off, a well prepared welcome.
"May I come in?"
"Well, they say that vampires can only enter your home if you invite them in. It's too bad you're already in here." She reached for her ear for just a second, and seemed to be talking to herself. "Soul is here. Can he come down?"
She motioned towards the barely lighted staircase. I started to glance around the room to really get a gauge for what I was walking into. It was in essence an abandoned home, that they had hacked themselves into ownership of. Not an easy task, in my opinion. But a few simple changes on a person's will, and the house was theirs. I suppose it wasn't as hard as I originally thought. The stairs we're old and dusty hardwood. It seemed like they were going to give way underneath me, and I was cautious. Ironically, more cautious than when I traversed the icy stairs at my own home.
I looked around the curve of the spiral staircase to see a surprising sight. The room was bright with natural light lamps. The windows we're boarded up with plywood, eerily almost. The room felt warm, but I wasn't planning on removing my jacket. My boots were greeted by a plush blue rug. The basement of that old house, was surprizingly spacious. Each operator had quite a good amount of room in their favor, not to mention the assortment of equipment on the opposite side of the room. I saw GPS systems, cell phone jammers, Police scanners, a computer dedicated to Front Door Video. I could go on and on. There were various other systems set up, with 5 24' inch Samsung screens set up across 5 desks. I saw different prompts flashing on the screens. Activities no doubt related to our operation. Each desk was it's own design, one aluminum, the other pressed wood, one was even glass panes. Quite an unexpected sight indeed. These were no ordinary people. The 6th was unoccupied, a glass pane suspended on a brushed aluminum frame.
My eyes met with each different operator, and my photographic memory did not fail me. There were 3 out of the 6 members looking back at me. Closest to me, Vince Band. High school drop out from New Jersey. He is the definition of steroid abusing guido. Left his mom when he was 18, currently 20. He was an only child, parents divorced and he chose his mother. Smart kid, but just too cocky. He got caught while hacking into a bank, when he was 17. Scraped by with 100 hours community service. Extremely light punishment considering. He goes by the name of 'Band Aid', surprisingly clever. Next in the row, Chris Mohrayhey. 5'9, Dirty blonde hair, dark brown eyes. Formerly acne ridden face. He worked the books for a large chain lighting shop in Texas, and altered the money system to allow himself a piece of each transaction. Such an overplayed move for someone of his intelligence. He was caught and served 2 years in prison as an adult from 18 to 20. Parents separated shortly after his encounter with the law, he blames himself and since then has not stepped out of line. His father moved to New york, specifically Hudson Valley. It took a lot of coaxing to get him here tonight. I gave his profile a bit of extra attention because of the car he drives. Specifically a 2005 Audi A6. You'd be surprised what kind of information your bank statements can give away about you. I was jealous of his car, but not his attitude. He is due off of his probation in 6 months if his good behavior continues. I don't have to point out the irony in that too do I? Goes by the name 'Moray Eel'. I would've expected better from my 22 year old elder.
"Vince.. Chris.. Good to see you."
"Hey Soul." (They didn't do their homework, tsk tsk.)
I did save the best for last, of course. Kenneth Mason, otherwise known as 'Concrete'. On the FBI watch list because of certain black-hole activities. 19 year old child prodigy. Worked at a Data Centre in Ottawa for a year before he saved enough money to move to the U.S. He wrote a revision of the NetSky virus that I still keep stored on my hard drive, very destructive. He still highly employed by a data filtering company that runs out of NYC. I can't imagine what he's done to them. If I am an angel, then he would defiantly be a demon. Of course, at this time I saw him as a friend. I was blind. He gave me a wave to come and sit next to him. As I approached his desk, I examined it. Two computers, both externally water cooled, probably toting "stolen" quad core processors. He was moving fast through command line interfaces, sending and receiving feedback. He paused his work for a moment, and removed his headset.
"Nice to see you James. I'm glad you had the balls to show. How do you like the setup down here?"
"Pretty decent. Those antennae are jacking cell information huh?"
"Someone knows their hardware, then again I should've expected this from you Soul."
"Too bad I forgot my cell at home, Ken."
"Don't call me that."
"I'll keep that in mind. So, what's the uplink down here?"
"Satellite direct in good old Mama Band's name of course."
"Oh how nice. That explains how he only got off with 100 hours community service."
"We're still waiting on our last member..."
"...Gino Frattelli correct?"
"Yes."
"Where does he fit in here, all of us have.. experience. He does not have any."
"Gino is our equipment guy. You see all that jamming equipment? Yeah, stolen from an evidence locker actually."
"Ah. Nice. So the question I have on my mind, is simply what are we doing here?"
"Once all of us are here, we'll start our little meeting."
I paused from our conversation for a moment to glance around the room. My new friend Vince was snorting a line of white powder off of a mirror. I shudder to the thought that he has or had any credibility at all. He also broke the golden rule. Never break more than one law at once. Then again, this basement broke at least 50 per occupant. I laughed to myself. I can't even think of what could've happened to me had my instincts been wrong about this place, these people. Maybe I should've listened. I heard movement upstairs, and the sound of muffled voices. Our last member had arrived.
"Hello Laura."
I stopped to examine the room for a second. Or maybe I was examining her. I sure don't remember much of the room. She was about 5'4, with long brunette hair. Slender too. But it was too dark to see her eyes. They probably would've given her away. Her dominican and italian mixture gave her olive skin. Her picture didn't give her curves justice.
"James. Nice to finally meet the man behind the Soul." With a sultry wink to top it all off, a well prepared welcome.
"May I come in?"
"Well, they say that vampires can only enter your home if you invite them in. It's too bad you're already in here." She reached for her ear for just a second, and seemed to be talking to herself. "Soul is here. Can he come down?"
She motioned towards the barely lighted staircase. I started to glance around the room to really get a gauge for what I was walking into. It was in essence an abandoned home, that they had hacked themselves into ownership of. Not an easy task, in my opinion. But a few simple changes on a person's will, and the house was theirs. I suppose it wasn't as hard as I originally thought. The stairs we're old and dusty hardwood. It seemed like they were going to give way underneath me, and I was cautious. Ironically, more cautious than when I traversed the icy stairs at my own home.
I looked around the curve of the spiral staircase to see a surprising sight. The room was bright with natural light lamps. The windows we're boarded up with plywood, eerily almost. The room felt warm, but I wasn't planning on removing my jacket. My boots were greeted by a plush blue rug. The basement of that old house, was surprizingly spacious. Each operator had quite a good amount of room in their favor, not to mention the assortment of equipment on the opposite side of the room. I saw GPS systems, cell phone jammers, Police scanners, a computer dedicated to Front Door Video. I could go on and on. There were various other systems set up, with 5 24' inch Samsung screens set up across 5 desks. I saw different prompts flashing on the screens. Activities no doubt related to our operation. Each desk was it's own design, one aluminum, the other pressed wood, one was even glass panes. Quite an unexpected sight indeed. These were no ordinary people. The 6th was unoccupied, a glass pane suspended on a brushed aluminum frame.
My eyes met with each different operator, and my photographic memory did not fail me. There were 3 out of the 6 members looking back at me. Closest to me, Vince Band. High school drop out from New Jersey. He is the definition of steroid abusing guido. Left his mom when he was 18, currently 20. He was an only child, parents divorced and he chose his mother. Smart kid, but just too cocky. He got caught while hacking into a bank, when he was 17. Scraped by with 100 hours community service. Extremely light punishment considering. He goes by the name of 'Band Aid', surprisingly clever. Next in the row, Chris Mohrayhey. 5'9, Dirty blonde hair, dark brown eyes. Formerly acne ridden face. He worked the books for a large chain lighting shop in Texas, and altered the money system to allow himself a piece of each transaction. Such an overplayed move for someone of his intelligence. He was caught and served 2 years in prison as an adult from 18 to 20. Parents separated shortly after his encounter with the law, he blames himself and since then has not stepped out of line. His father moved to New york, specifically Hudson Valley. It took a lot of coaxing to get him here tonight. I gave his profile a bit of extra attention because of the car he drives. Specifically a 2005 Audi A6. You'd be surprised what kind of information your bank statements can give away about you. I was jealous of his car, but not his attitude. He is due off of his probation in 6 months if his good behavior continues. I don't have to point out the irony in that too do I? Goes by the name 'Moray Eel'. I would've expected better from my 22 year old elder.
"Vince.. Chris.. Good to see you."
"Hey Soul." (They didn't do their homework, tsk tsk.)
I did save the best for last, of course. Kenneth Mason, otherwise known as 'Concrete'. On the FBI watch list because of certain black-hole activities. 19 year old child prodigy. Worked at a Data Centre in Ottawa for a year before he saved enough money to move to the U.S. He wrote a revision of the NetSky virus that I still keep stored on my hard drive, very destructive. He still highly employed by a data filtering company that runs out of NYC. I can't imagine what he's done to them. If I am an angel, then he would defiantly be a demon. Of course, at this time I saw him as a friend. I was blind. He gave me a wave to come and sit next to him. As I approached his desk, I examined it. Two computers, both externally water cooled, probably toting "stolen" quad core processors. He was moving fast through command line interfaces, sending and receiving feedback. He paused his work for a moment, and removed his headset.
"Nice to see you James. I'm glad you had the balls to show. How do you like the setup down here?"
"Pretty decent. Those antennae are jacking cell information huh?"
"Someone knows their hardware, then again I should've expected this from you Soul."
"Too bad I forgot my cell at home, Ken."
"Don't call me that."
"I'll keep that in mind. So, what's the uplink down here?"
"Satellite direct in good old Mama Band's name of course."
"Oh how nice. That explains how he only got off with 100 hours community service."
"We're still waiting on our last member..."
"...Gino Frattelli correct?"
"Yes."
"Where does he fit in here, all of us have.. experience. He does not have any."
"Gino is our equipment guy. You see all that jamming equipment? Yeah, stolen from an evidence locker actually."
"Ah. Nice. So the question I have on my mind, is simply what are we doing here?"
"Once all of us are here, we'll start our little meeting."
I paused from our conversation for a moment to glance around the room. My new friend Vince was snorting a line of white powder off of a mirror. I shudder to the thought that he has or had any credibility at all. He also broke the golden rule. Never break more than one law at once. Then again, this basement broke at least 50 per occupant. I laughed to myself. I can't even think of what could've happened to me had my instincts been wrong about this place, these people. Maybe I should've listened. I heard movement upstairs, and the sound of muffled voices. Our last member had arrived.
Chapter 2 "The House"
"Ahhh.." I sighed out loud to myself as the vigorous guitar of Spineshank blasted from my cars humble speakers.
My car picked up pace quickly, after all I made it that way. I quickly reached 90 miles an hour. 100 came quicker. Trees blurred in my peripheral vision. 110 felt more like time was slowing for me. The adrenaline coursing in my veins raised my heart rate, while I gripped the steering wheel tighter with each passing second. 120 and seconds passed like hours. My car started to spin before I even began to realize it. The blurring trees became clear as I hurtled toward them. I had no time to think, no time to react or even get a word in edgewise. Time stopped for a split second, before I was obliterated by the tree. "He was going over 100 miles an hour, on an icy road." The papers would say. "There was nothing left of him." I blinked, and continued down the highway at blistering speed. It's too bad it was all in my head.
"Burn Baby, Burn.. Strung out on a wire" I sang loudly as I flew down the Hutch. No cops tonight, I thought to myself. Free to roam at whatever speed I please. Bullet-Proof skin was blaring out of my speakers and as always I found it ironic. I felt invincible. I reached my exit as the song finished and downshifted to keep from losing control. This part of the Bronx was just as equally desolate as my own hometown. Again, the comfort of the loneliness returned. I reached the destination street with ease, thanks to my memory of this area. I passed by the house, "350 Lafayette Ave... Welcome home." My car responded to my sarcasm with a reminder that I was low on brake fluid. "Yes yes, Don't worry I'll feed you later. I promise."
I parked on Mayflower, 4 blocks away. The last thing I wanted was these people to have was my license plate number and a profile of my car. I shut off my cell phone, stashed my wallet and house keys. I removed the fake identification I had freshly laminated the night before. "Enter... James Agrusa." My name that I had created from my grandfather and grandmother. They would be proud of me, I'm sure. Bootlegging a Massachusetts ID was too easy with the right tools. I admired my handiwork. I also armed myself with a small pocketknife. It would be unwise to come unarmed. I hid my iPod and 7 inch screen. No use drawing unneeded attention from petty thieves.
The cold welcomed me back into it's open arms, as I left my car. The click indicated all of my doors were locked. I stashed my car keys up underneath the chassis of my car. No reason to even give any hints that I even had a car at all. My walk was quick and purposeful as I strode towards "the house" I would come to call it. I memorized my surroundings as I passed. Mentally saving every picture of every detail. Overlooking something important could cost me too much.
This somewhat old, very box-like house sat 3 houses from the corner of this peculiar block. The house reminded me of a real life sandcastle. There were 6 windows, not including the back of the house that I could not see. It was an off-white with yellow rims around the windows. It had a flat roof, with two possible exit points. And no fire escape, which meant it was a single family house. It had a black front door, with a large deadbolt. The steps were ironically the same dull gray that I had seen not 15 minutes ago when I left my house. The lights were off in the house, and I felt singular standing there atop those steps. I searched for activity in the windows, almost desperately. Without even motioning for the doorbell, or any sort of indication of my presence. I stood there, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I heard sounds behind the door. The large black door creaked as it swung open.
(End Chapter 2)
My car picked up pace quickly, after all I made it that way. I quickly reached 90 miles an hour. 100 came quicker. Trees blurred in my peripheral vision. 110 felt more like time was slowing for me. The adrenaline coursing in my veins raised my heart rate, while I gripped the steering wheel tighter with each passing second. 120 and seconds passed like hours. My car started to spin before I even began to realize it. The blurring trees became clear as I hurtled toward them. I had no time to think, no time to react or even get a word in edgewise. Time stopped for a split second, before I was obliterated by the tree. "He was going over 100 miles an hour, on an icy road." The papers would say. "There was nothing left of him." I blinked, and continued down the highway at blistering speed. It's too bad it was all in my head.
"Burn Baby, Burn.. Strung out on a wire" I sang loudly as I flew down the Hutch. No cops tonight, I thought to myself. Free to roam at whatever speed I please. Bullet-Proof skin was blaring out of my speakers and as always I found it ironic. I felt invincible. I reached my exit as the song finished and downshifted to keep from losing control. This part of the Bronx was just as equally desolate as my own hometown. Again, the comfort of the loneliness returned. I reached the destination street with ease, thanks to my memory of this area. I passed by the house, "350 Lafayette Ave... Welcome home." My car responded to my sarcasm with a reminder that I was low on brake fluid. "Yes yes, Don't worry I'll feed you later. I promise."
I parked on Mayflower, 4 blocks away. The last thing I wanted was these people to have was my license plate number and a profile of my car. I shut off my cell phone, stashed my wallet and house keys. I removed the fake identification I had freshly laminated the night before. "Enter... James Agrusa." My name that I had created from my grandfather and grandmother. They would be proud of me, I'm sure. Bootlegging a Massachusetts ID was too easy with the right tools. I admired my handiwork. I also armed myself with a small pocketknife. It would be unwise to come unarmed. I hid my iPod and 7 inch screen. No use drawing unneeded attention from petty thieves.
The cold welcomed me back into it's open arms, as I left my car. The click indicated all of my doors were locked. I stashed my car keys up underneath the chassis of my car. No reason to even give any hints that I even had a car at all. My walk was quick and purposeful as I strode towards "the house" I would come to call it. I memorized my surroundings as I passed. Mentally saving every picture of every detail. Overlooking something important could cost me too much.
This somewhat old, very box-like house sat 3 houses from the corner of this peculiar block. The house reminded me of a real life sandcastle. There were 6 windows, not including the back of the house that I could not see. It was an off-white with yellow rims around the windows. It had a flat roof, with two possible exit points. And no fire escape, which meant it was a single family house. It had a black front door, with a large deadbolt. The steps were ironically the same dull gray that I had seen not 15 minutes ago when I left my house. The lights were off in the house, and I felt singular standing there atop those steps. I searched for activity in the windows, almost desperately. Without even motioning for the doorbell, or any sort of indication of my presence. I stood there, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I heard sounds behind the door. The large black door creaked as it swung open.
(End Chapter 2)
Chapter 1 "Snowy Night"
"Life is beautiful when you're numb." I have this quote to say to myself, over and over again.
I remember the night that I found out what I really was, even to this very moment as vividly if it was happening right now.
It was 3:56AM, on a beautifully crisp Friday morning.
"I probably shouldn't be doing this." I said to myself, as I exited my house via my side door. I was greeted by the same solemn gray steps as when I entered earlier that night. This time though, they glistened in the streetlight, having a thin sheet of ice over them. In hindsight, this was the most beautiful foreshadowing I've ever seen. But I chose just to walk as normal, with the subconscious wish to die by broken neck. That wish did not come true that night, to my dismay. This night was pure winter, the epitome of beauty in my mind. It was silent except for the light breeze washing over the near leafless trees. Light crisp snowfall shined in the streetlight, covering the grass and ground. The air I could almost taste as it filled my lungs, cold but refreshing. My black boots crunched the snow as I made my way towards the large white object that was my car. The moon was high in the sky, clashing with the orange glow of the streetlights, completing the serenity of the night. Their silent war could not have been more comforting. In my car I found no refuge from the cold, but this wasn't what was seeking. The click of the key entering my ignition was so loud on this quiet night. I even felt remorse that my engine would have to break this amazing silence. And yet, my engine came to life immediately, purring as it warmed to operating temperature. For 15 years old, it still purred vivaciously.
"Off We go." I said to myself, and my car as I shifted from Park into Drive. The light snowfall removed itself from my vision almost immediately after I started to move. My lights guided my way off my street, and onto the adjacent Wolfs Lane. It was a desolate night, and the loneliness was comforting. My cabin temperature remained at it's original temperature and I had no intention of warming it. I could still see my breath floating in the air, lingering slightly.. as if it was waiting for something. My iPod had not immediately started to play, but abruptly reminded me of it's presence with the sound of a loud guitar riff. So much for the beautiful silence of the night. I made the turn onto the on-ramp of Hutchinson Parkway Southbound easily, and my fingers went to work on my iPod. I picked out my playlist, simply labeled "Burn Baby, Burn." Telling the story over again, just lets me realize how much irony there was in the air that night.
I remember the night that I found out what I really was, even to this very moment as vividly if it was happening right now.
It was 3:56AM, on a beautifully crisp Friday morning.
"I probably shouldn't be doing this." I said to myself, as I exited my house via my side door. I was greeted by the same solemn gray steps as when I entered earlier that night. This time though, they glistened in the streetlight, having a thin sheet of ice over them. In hindsight, this was the most beautiful foreshadowing I've ever seen. But I chose just to walk as normal, with the subconscious wish to die by broken neck. That wish did not come true that night, to my dismay. This night was pure winter, the epitome of beauty in my mind. It was silent except for the light breeze washing over the near leafless trees. Light crisp snowfall shined in the streetlight, covering the grass and ground. The air I could almost taste as it filled my lungs, cold but refreshing. My black boots crunched the snow as I made my way towards the large white object that was my car. The moon was high in the sky, clashing with the orange glow of the streetlights, completing the serenity of the night. Their silent war could not have been more comforting. In my car I found no refuge from the cold, but this wasn't what was seeking. The click of the key entering my ignition was so loud on this quiet night. I even felt remorse that my engine would have to break this amazing silence. And yet, my engine came to life immediately, purring as it warmed to operating temperature. For 15 years old, it still purred vivaciously.
"Off We go." I said to myself, and my car as I shifted from Park into Drive. The light snowfall removed itself from my vision almost immediately after I started to move. My lights guided my way off my street, and onto the adjacent Wolfs Lane. It was a desolate night, and the loneliness was comforting. My cabin temperature remained at it's original temperature and I had no intention of warming it. I could still see my breath floating in the air, lingering slightly.. as if it was waiting for something. My iPod had not immediately started to play, but abruptly reminded me of it's presence with the sound of a loud guitar riff. So much for the beautiful silence of the night. I made the turn onto the on-ramp of Hutchinson Parkway Southbound easily, and my fingers went to work on my iPod. I picked out my playlist, simply labeled "Burn Baby, Burn." Telling the story over again, just lets me realize how much irony there was in the air that night.
Nobody Knows Me.
Nobody really knows anybody, the undertone of human existence.
People take pride in knowing their friends, in being able to predict their actions, and reactions.
My pride, lies in everyone I know. I know they all have their monsters, living inside them.
Waiting, patiently. Waiting for that vulnerable point where they can unleash themselves.
It's beautiful, the human mind. It can't handle it's own consciousness, which is by far the most irony I've ever seen.
Us as a species, take pride in the fact that we have an upper level, but the irony is that we've lost touch with the lower levels.
Has nature forced us to adapt, and disregard these basic functions for advanced ones?
But then why are there still people that bring themselves back down?
Nobody really knows me, mainly because I don't know me.
And I love it.
It reminds me that I'm still alive, just for the simple fact that I'm an open ended equation. We are all open ended equations. For instance, I could get up right now (3:43AM) tear off all of my clothes, and run outside naked for as long as I pleased. Who is to tell me that I can't or won't do this? Nobody. The dangers, including cold, police activity and animals may keep a (sane) person from attempting such a feat. Who won't join me?
I'm constantly screaming on the inside.
I'll play out the situation in my head, where I get up, scream and run out of the room numerous times.
Wishing that it would be that easy to erase my mind into subtle bliss. I'm constantly at war with myself, every single minute.
Second guessing, and justifying things that I've done. I'm a terrible person, whether it be in my head, or otherwise. And I'm o.k. with all of that. I realize that after so many years of criticism, the only regret I have, is not finding what it really means to be alive sooner. I'm enjoying my open ended equation, while it's still there to enjoy, so tell me.. Are you?
I don't know you, and you don't know me.
But thats the best part, of knowing you.
People take pride in knowing their friends, in being able to predict their actions, and reactions.
My pride, lies in everyone I know. I know they all have their monsters, living inside them.
Waiting, patiently. Waiting for that vulnerable point where they can unleash themselves.
It's beautiful, the human mind. It can't handle it's own consciousness, which is by far the most irony I've ever seen.
Us as a species, take pride in the fact that we have an upper level, but the irony is that we've lost touch with the lower levels.
Has nature forced us to adapt, and disregard these basic functions for advanced ones?
But then why are there still people that bring themselves back down?
Nobody really knows me, mainly because I don't know me.
And I love it.
It reminds me that I'm still alive, just for the simple fact that I'm an open ended equation. We are all open ended equations. For instance, I could get up right now (3:43AM) tear off all of my clothes, and run outside naked for as long as I pleased. Who is to tell me that I can't or won't do this? Nobody. The dangers, including cold, police activity and animals may keep a (sane) person from attempting such a feat. Who won't join me?
I'm constantly screaming on the inside.
I'll play out the situation in my head, where I get up, scream and run out of the room numerous times.
Wishing that it would be that easy to erase my mind into subtle bliss. I'm constantly at war with myself, every single minute.
Second guessing, and justifying things that I've done. I'm a terrible person, whether it be in my head, or otherwise. And I'm o.k. with all of that. I realize that after so many years of criticism, the only regret I have, is not finding what it really means to be alive sooner. I'm enjoying my open ended equation, while it's still there to enjoy, so tell me.. Are you?
I don't know you, and you don't know me.
But thats the best part, of knowing you.
I am too controlled for that... Maybe.
Ever do something that you regret?
No doubt the answer to that question is yes. Everybody has.
But, what if it was the opposite?
What if you're so calculating that you never really do something you regret?
You'd almost desire to push yourself to take that step. To examine what is holding you back.
(I took you home.. Set you on the glass.)
A thirst to be selfish and impulsive. The harbinger of your fall from perfection.
(I pulled off your wings, and I laughed.)
Like there is something there, than you are missing. Some element that you have forsaken, reluctantly.
(I look at the cross.. Than I look away.)
But at the same time, you forsake your own morals by yearning for this.. Change.
(I give you the gun... Blow me away.)
You suffer the consequences of your actions, as everyone does. Beautiful consequences, disguised as monsters.
(Now you feel, so alive.)
I'm too controlled for that.
Just too calculating.
Just too smart.
Is it really lying to yourself if you know the truth anyway?
Inside, we are all out of control.
We are all burning, in so many directions.
Look into my eyes, into the my firestorm.
But don't come too close.
Don't fuel my fire.
No doubt the answer to that question is yes. Everybody has.
But, what if it was the opposite?
What if you're so calculating that you never really do something you regret?
You'd almost desire to push yourself to take that step. To examine what is holding you back.
(I took you home.. Set you on the glass.)
A thirst to be selfish and impulsive. The harbinger of your fall from perfection.
(I pulled off your wings, and I laughed.)
Like there is something there, than you are missing. Some element that you have forsaken, reluctantly.
(I look at the cross.. Than I look away.)
But at the same time, you forsake your own morals by yearning for this.. Change.
(I give you the gun... Blow me away.)
You suffer the consequences of your actions, as everyone does. Beautiful consequences, disguised as monsters.
(Now you feel, so alive.)
I'm too controlled for that.
Just too calculating.
Just too smart.
Is it really lying to yourself if you know the truth anyway?
Inside, we are all out of control.
We are all burning, in so many directions.
Look into my eyes, into the my firestorm.
But don't come too close.
Don't fuel my fire.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Distracted.
I'm trying to think of happiness, as a straight feeling. But I just can't put my finger on it.
I'm trying to think of pure sadness, and thats pretty common. Easy to recreate. Something that I'm chained to.
I'm trying to think of why, instead of absolute happiness, there is only the feeling like I'm distracted from my sadness.
(Thanks T for this one, by the way.)
Like, there's always an undertone underneath my temporary insanity. (Happiness)
Because I never feel truly pure anymore. (Sadness.)
Always diluted, with some aftertaste. Constantly eating at my stature, at my decisions, at myself. Or what I think to be myself. (Happiness)
Too often I've second guessed myself because of this leash.. keeping me at close range. (Sadness.)
Because I'm afraid that breaking away from the leash, just means that my keeper comes to find me to punish me. (Happiness)
I want to know what you have to offer, world. Who, where, why, what you have to offer me. (Never)
I've wanted to all the tastes that everyone else seems to enjoy, just once. (Don't)
To feel young, and free. Before its too late. (Can't)
Please help me. Lead me. (No)
No? (Yes.)
But maybe I don't need them.
I've always been different.
Always been... something else.
Maybe for once I don't want to be treated like something else.
Maybe I'm just a shell filled with nothing.
Maybe I have no idea who I am, what I want and where I'm going?
I have no idea who I am, what I want and where I'm going.
And if thats o.k. with you, then thats o.k. with me.
I'm trying to think of pure sadness, and thats pretty common. Easy to recreate. Something that I'm chained to.
I'm trying to think of why, instead of absolute happiness, there is only the feeling like I'm distracted from my sadness.
(Thanks T for this one, by the way.)
Like, there's always an undertone underneath my temporary insanity. (Happiness)
Because I never feel truly pure anymore. (Sadness.)
Always diluted, with some aftertaste. Constantly eating at my stature, at my decisions, at myself. Or what I think to be myself. (Happiness)
Too often I've second guessed myself because of this leash.. keeping me at close range. (Sadness.)
Because I'm afraid that breaking away from the leash, just means that my keeper comes to find me to punish me. (Happiness)
I want to know what you have to offer, world. Who, where, why, what you have to offer me. (Never)
I've wanted to all the tastes that everyone else seems to enjoy, just once. (Don't)
To feel young, and free. Before its too late. (Can't)
Please help me. Lead me. (No)
No? (Yes.)
But maybe I don't need them.
I've always been different.
Always been... something else.
Maybe for once I don't want to be treated like something else.
Maybe I'm just a shell filled with nothing.
Maybe I have no idea who I am, what I want and where I'm going?
I have no idea who I am, what I want and where I'm going.
And if thats o.k. with you, then thats o.k. with me.
Old Soul.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
Long after others have fallen asleep.
But, right before the day starts anew.
I have watched autumn leaves fall...
Ticking time away, seconds.. one by one falling away.
I have bathed in the seconds.. Letting then rain over me.
Fall over me.. Fall through me.
I have stood alone in the cold. Bathing in the falling seconds of my life.
Cold, but content. Almost as if the cold was my warmth.
My winter serenity comforts me.
I have stood still.. Within this timeless metaphor.
Within the timeless metaphor that I have built my life around.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
With eyes open wide to the beautiful peace that I have found.
Waiting right outside my front door.
The moon lighting the trees brightly through their yellow leaves..
In a black sky, not void of stars.
The leaves softly falling around and onto me.
The vivid colors of the sea of leaves I am standing in.
The light brisk winter air touches my face.. My entire body.
Touching my heart.. igniting my memory.
Awakening the side of me that I try and hide.
Solemn, serene, silent, content but lonely.
My old soul, so to speak.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
And there, I am someone new.
I am just myself.
Quietly.
Long after others have fallen asleep.
But, right before the day starts anew.
I have watched autumn leaves fall...
Ticking time away, seconds.. one by one falling away.
I have bathed in the seconds.. Letting then rain over me.
Fall over me.. Fall through me.
I have stood alone in the cold. Bathing in the falling seconds of my life.
Cold, but content. Almost as if the cold was my warmth.
My winter serenity comforts me.
I have stood still.. Within this timeless metaphor.
Within the timeless metaphor that I have built my life around.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
With eyes open wide to the beautiful peace that I have found.
Waiting right outside my front door.
The moon lighting the trees brightly through their yellow leaves..
In a black sky, not void of stars.
The leaves softly falling around and onto me.
The vivid colors of the sea of leaves I am standing in.
The light brisk winter air touches my face.. My entire body.
Touching my heart.. igniting my memory.
Awakening the side of me that I try and hide.
Solemn, serene, silent, content but lonely.
My old soul, so to speak.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
And there, I am someone new.
I am just myself.
Quietly.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Similarities.
In my short experience, everyone is exactly the same.
We all play games with each other.
Titillating each other with different mannerisims and conduct.
I'd to say that I'm as real as my own touch.
But that theory alone fails to adequately describe how touch feels and how real it is.
Next time you feel sad, step back from yourself.
For just a moment, and realize that sadness; (or any emotion for that matter) is just a part of the game.
I'm not sure if I'm the only one who constantly feels like their inside a shell.
Google -- Cold And Bitter Outlook On Everything.
(You won't find anything, but if I think this should pop up first.)
Each person has a code of behavior that is their... key.
Key to making them vulnerable, to triggering some sort of reaction -- This key is defined early in life.
Whether it be fixation on a certain stereotype situation, or parental guidence, it's predefined.
This is why they say that opposites attract, the behavioral reflection of both of the beings is predefining.
Some people just can't conform to the standards of one another, or are just too stupid.
Too often it is the latter, which is slightly disappointing, but somehow expected.
The dynamics to the system are quite bemusing at cursory glance.
It's scary how so many people can work and respond off each other.
And sometimes it's completely inexplicable how peoples dynamics change.
It's overwhelming trying to comprehend the difference instances.
My question, that I've been saving is simply, Why bother?
It seems to me that all of this is just complication on top of base thoughts.
It makes incredibly more sense to stick to being alone then subjecting yourself to such madness.
And yet we constantly fall into the same patterns constantly.
I'd love to say that I haven't or I don't, since I'm indignant towards it.
But it's happened to me time and time again.
I just don't get it.
We all play games with each other.
Titillating each other with different mannerisims and conduct.
I'd to say that I'm as real as my own touch.
But that theory alone fails to adequately describe how touch feels and how real it is.
Next time you feel sad, step back from yourself.
For just a moment, and realize that sadness; (or any emotion for that matter) is just a part of the game.
I'm not sure if I'm the only one who constantly feels like their inside a shell.
Google -- Cold And Bitter Outlook On Everything.
(You won't find anything, but if I think this should pop up first.)
Each person has a code of behavior that is their... key.
Key to making them vulnerable, to triggering some sort of reaction -- This key is defined early in life.
Whether it be fixation on a certain stereotype situation, or parental guidence, it's predefined.
This is why they say that opposites attract, the behavioral reflection of both of the beings is predefining.
Some people just can't conform to the standards of one another, or are just too stupid.
Too often it is the latter, which is slightly disappointing, but somehow expected.
The dynamics to the system are quite bemusing at cursory glance.
It's scary how so many people can work and respond off each other.
And sometimes it's completely inexplicable how peoples dynamics change.
It's overwhelming trying to comprehend the difference instances.
My question, that I've been saving is simply, Why bother?
It seems to me that all of this is just complication on top of base thoughts.
It makes incredibly more sense to stick to being alone then subjecting yourself to such madness.
And yet we constantly fall into the same patterns constantly.
I'd love to say that I haven't or I don't, since I'm indignant towards it.
But it's happened to me time and time again.
I just don't get it.
Sleepless.
The irony of sweet caress, is that nothing truly matters.
Moments turn to hours to quickly, destroying those futile seconds.
But there is a hurricane behind those eyes.
Mesmerizing as they are, I can see slightly deeper.
Only slightly, as your mystery proceeds you.
But just enough to glance at that terrible storm.
"No one is really happy alone..."
Well, some people are I suppose. But being alone is really just a state of mind. Since being with someone else is an extension of their state of mind to yours.
I've come to a sad realization in these passing minutes.
That all attempts for forestall the change into my father have failed.
And that in the end I'm just as emotionally detached.
Not as you might believe that means.
I understand emotions, I have for a long time.
I emulate them perfectly.
Nothing really matters, is a quote that defines my character.
All moments, if you step back from yourself for a moment,
Really are just temporary. So why attach complication?
I wish somebody really knew me.
So they could tell me who I am.
Or who I was.
Or anything at all.
Take my soul away.
Moments turn to hours to quickly, destroying those futile seconds.
But there is a hurricane behind those eyes.
Mesmerizing as they are, I can see slightly deeper.
Only slightly, as your mystery proceeds you.
But just enough to glance at that terrible storm.
"No one is really happy alone..."
Well, some people are I suppose. But being alone is really just a state of mind. Since being with someone else is an extension of their state of mind to yours.
I've come to a sad realization in these passing minutes.
That all attempts for forestall the change into my father have failed.
And that in the end I'm just as emotionally detached.
Not as you might believe that means.
I understand emotions, I have for a long time.
I emulate them perfectly.
Nothing really matters, is a quote that defines my character.
All moments, if you step back from yourself for a moment,
Really are just temporary. So why attach complication?
I wish somebody really knew me.
So they could tell me who I am.
Or who I was.
Or anything at all.
Take my soul away.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
My demons and angels constantly wage war upon each other.
Some elders, others are newborn. They all have the same significance.
I've always been trapped square in the middle of this war. Lost and confused.
Nothing is ever really clear cut, and everything falls in the overlap.
(too tired to continue for now.)
Some elders, others are newborn. They all have the same significance.
I've always been trapped square in the middle of this war. Lost and confused.
Nothing is ever really clear cut, and everything falls in the overlap.
(too tired to continue for now.)
Friday, November 9, 2007
Monsters.
We are the monsters that live in your head.
That gnaw on your thoughts.
That ravage the integrity of your decision.
We are the plague that infests the beauty of your life.
Corrupting everything about you.
Taking the emptiness and stretching it until it encompasses you.
We are, we are the monsters.
Sharp fangs, claws, red eyes.
We are the red eye behind your blue eyes.
That comes out only in still frame.
We are just under the skin,
Waiting for a paper cut release.
We are everything you wished you weren't,
You wished you didn't, You wished you couldn't,
We are your regret, and sorrow, and dissatisfaction.
We are.
We are.
Your monsters and you can't hold us back anymore.
That gnaw on your thoughts.
That ravage the integrity of your decision.
We are the plague that infests the beauty of your life.
Corrupting everything about you.
Taking the emptiness and stretching it until it encompasses you.
We are, we are the monsters.
Sharp fangs, claws, red eyes.
We are the red eye behind your blue eyes.
That comes out only in still frame.
We are just under the skin,
Waiting for a paper cut release.
We are everything you wished you weren't,
You wished you didn't, You wished you couldn't,
We are your regret, and sorrow, and dissatisfaction.
We are.
We are.
Your monsters and you can't hold us back anymore.
Ghost Trails.
The beautiful part about being emotionally void is the ability to answer simply with "fine" whenever someone asks you if everything is o.k. and mean it.
They say that trauma is an everlasting imprint on your personality. It'll eventually start to shape it, if you're put through enough.
Have you ever looked through a camera when it had ghost trails turned on?
Everything leaves a light path. Well, lately thats what I see everything as. Just looking around, glancing around the room. Everything is leaving trails across my mind.
Kind of like the image is echoing, but slightly more in depth.
They call it, subliminal suicide. You participate in an activity that is extremely hazardous to your heath, because there is some part of you that wishes for death.
I spend so much time in my head, that it's getting harder and harder to focus on things. It's really quite a plague on my life. Having a photographic memory, means reliving every single horror story that you've witnessed every second that you allow it to happen. It means when everyone else's mind is quiet and asleep, yours is cranking away playing backwards and rewinding. It means insomnia. Permanently. It's a curse.
Everything burns a little brighter when you're dying.
They say that trauma is an everlasting imprint on your personality. It'll eventually start to shape it, if you're put through enough.
Have you ever looked through a camera when it had ghost trails turned on?
Everything leaves a light path. Well, lately thats what I see everything as. Just looking around, glancing around the room. Everything is leaving trails across my mind.
Kind of like the image is echoing, but slightly more in depth.
They call it, subliminal suicide. You participate in an activity that is extremely hazardous to your heath, because there is some part of you that wishes for death.
I spend so much time in my head, that it's getting harder and harder to focus on things. It's really quite a plague on my life. Having a photographic memory, means reliving every single horror story that you've witnessed every second that you allow it to happen. It means when everyone else's mind is quiet and asleep, yours is cranking away playing backwards and rewinding. It means insomnia. Permanently. It's a curse.
Everything burns a little brighter when you're dying.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Disconnected.
I've been narrating my own life for a long time.
Kind of like I've been going through the motions, but not quite there.
Like, I'm reading my own story from a book. Only with the most vivid realism no book could quite capture.
Come to think of it... Even as a child of 6. Surrounded by a ring of electronic parts. Wires. Batteries. Light bulbs. Microchips.
As I did things, in my "safe haven" I guess I'll call it, I would say everything I did, like I was telling a story.
For as long as I can remember, I always felt like their were two people in my head. Not in a schizophrenic manor though. My studies of psychology have thought me well I suppose. More as, like I said. One person was making the decisions, and the other was simply watching and narrating.
Everyone questions behavior. It's a part of being human. But their are certain activities in which people just do not question. They accept them as what they are, without further insight.
I have always felt disconnected from most other people because of this. Felt like the neurotic behavior that shares a common thread in everyone was slowly driving me off the edge. That each and every moment of it that I endure slowly eats away at my superiority. That some way, I had become infected by instinct. Something I swore to myself a long time ago, never to let take over.
--Instinct is something that lives inside us all. Base. Impulsive. No third layer thought process comprehends the full extent of instinct simply because it cannot understand the actions it indirectly poses. If the third layer fails, it simply defaults back to the base code. Also known as instinct. Thought evolution, by definition is the movement of a third layer thought process into base level thinking. Hence, completely modifying those "instincts" to call for more than just impulse. Making the host, smarter. --
If you watch people close enough, you can watch this actually take place. Interesting.
So. What's at the top of your brain?
Kind of like I've been going through the motions, but not quite there.
Like, I'm reading my own story from a book. Only with the most vivid realism no book could quite capture.
Come to think of it... Even as a child of 6. Surrounded by a ring of electronic parts. Wires. Batteries. Light bulbs. Microchips.
As I did things, in my "safe haven" I guess I'll call it, I would say everything I did, like I was telling a story.
For as long as I can remember, I always felt like their were two people in my head. Not in a schizophrenic manor though. My studies of psychology have thought me well I suppose. More as, like I said. One person was making the decisions, and the other was simply watching and narrating.
Everyone questions behavior. It's a part of being human. But their are certain activities in which people just do not question. They accept them as what they are, without further insight.
I have always felt disconnected from most other people because of this. Felt like the neurotic behavior that shares a common thread in everyone was slowly driving me off the edge. That each and every moment of it that I endure slowly eats away at my superiority. That some way, I had become infected by instinct. Something I swore to myself a long time ago, never to let take over.
--Instinct is something that lives inside us all. Base. Impulsive. No third layer thought process comprehends the full extent of instinct simply because it cannot understand the actions it indirectly poses. If the third layer fails, it simply defaults back to the base code. Also known as instinct. Thought evolution, by definition is the movement of a third layer thought process into base level thinking. Hence, completely modifying those "instincts" to call for more than just impulse. Making the host, smarter. --
If you watch people close enough, you can watch this actually take place. Interesting.
So. What's at the top of your brain?
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Ending October. Starting November.
Tonight was a tough night to pick a topic for.
Too many things circling around in my head to really get anything truly right. But I'll try anyway.
Your weakness is my weakness.
Destruction in it's existence.
It eats at the underlying process of my life.
Destroying all that seems right.
I've watched you change.
Your ressurection out of your own impending death,
Always seemed so iminent.
Your own grave that you dug yourself.
And you were so ready to fill with your own flesh.
I'm tired of filling this hole with concrete.
And then watching, helplessly, as you blow it all away.
I've got the same scars.
Most hidden below the surface of my skin.
I wish all of you could see them. But theres too many, too complicated to explain.
I've been a savior for too many years. Don't be so vain.
I'm not Anybody's angel. Though I was yours.
I don't know who I am anymore.
Though I never really have.
I think thats the problem.
I've felt like No One for as long as I can remember.
It makes it really hard to realize that I just might be someone after all.
Don't you get it?
Set me free. Just becareful when you do.
I stood there.
At two seperate times.
I watched life get thrown away.
TOO MANY TIMES.
More than zero.
You'd think once was enough?
That I didn't learn the lessons of life.
Twice times the charm I suppose.
And how dare you of all people?
Of every single person on the planet?
The closest of close to myself.
And somehow that is better?
All that was, was selfish.
Just like the first time.
The beautiful irony that I never wanted to admit.
Selfish?
I miss you both.
I miss No One Formerly James.
I guess October really is the happiest time of year.
Too many things circling around in my head to really get anything truly right. But I'll try anyway.
Your weakness is my weakness.
Destruction in it's existence.
It eats at the underlying process of my life.
Destroying all that seems right.
I've watched you change.
Your ressurection out of your own impending death,
Always seemed so iminent.
Your own grave that you dug yourself.
And you were so ready to fill with your own flesh.
I'm tired of filling this hole with concrete.
And then watching, helplessly, as you blow it all away.
I've got the same scars.
Most hidden below the surface of my skin.
I wish all of you could see them. But theres too many, too complicated to explain.
I've been a savior for too many years. Don't be so vain.
I'm not Anybody's angel. Though I was yours.
I don't know who I am anymore.
Though I never really have.
I think thats the problem.
I've felt like No One for as long as I can remember.
It makes it really hard to realize that I just might be someone after all.
Don't you get it?
Set me free. Just becareful when you do.
I stood there.
At two seperate times.
I watched life get thrown away.
TOO MANY TIMES.
More than zero.
You'd think once was enough?
That I didn't learn the lessons of life.
Twice times the charm I suppose.
And how dare you of all people?
Of every single person on the planet?
The closest of close to myself.
And somehow that is better?
All that was, was selfish.
Just like the first time.
The beautiful irony that I never wanted to admit.
Selfish?
I miss you both.
I miss No One Formerly James.
I guess October really is the happiest time of year.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Beautiful Sunset.
What a beautiful sunset.
Right by the sandy coastline.
Small homes line the narrow streets.
The tide is high tonight.
What a beautiful sunset.
Shining over the water.
It's reflection mesmerizes.
The engine revvs high and roars toward water.
It pierces the fence with ease.
And hurtles onto the beach.
Soaring with machine grace into the water.
The engine is quiet now.
The fallen beast's master sits quietly.
Accepting fates hijacked control.
Water has come to steal the air from his lungs.
His eyes peer upwards. Finally.
What a beautiful sunset.
Right by the sandy coastline.
Small homes line the narrow streets.
The tide is high tonight.
What a beautiful sunset.
Shining over the water.
It's reflection mesmerizes.
The engine revvs high and roars toward water.
It pierces the fence with ease.
And hurtles onto the beach.
Soaring with machine grace into the water.
The engine is quiet now.
The fallen beast's master sits quietly.
Accepting fates hijacked control.
Water has come to steal the air from his lungs.
His eyes peer upwards. Finally.
What a beautiful sunset.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Realistic Position.
Tomorrow, everybody dies.
Yes, not extremely likely. But imagine it.
Imagine that some intelligent life comes to earth. Sees everything wrecked.
And makes inferences and educated guesses (just as we might've done had it been us.)
Now, imagine. You are a becoming an exhibit in a museum.
They are going to put you in a "realistic position" or doing some sort of activity.
Whats your realistic position? What would you be doing or saying or anything?
Think about how much you do said activity. How big a part of your life it is.
Now try and think for a moment, what your life and you would be like without that
item/activity? Post your answers and then I'll post mine.
Yes, not extremely likely. But imagine it.
Imagine that some intelligent life comes to earth. Sees everything wrecked.
And makes inferences and educated guesses (just as we might've done had it been us.)
Now, imagine. You are a becoming an exhibit in a museum.
They are going to put you in a "realistic position" or doing some sort of activity.
Whats your realistic position? What would you be doing or saying or anything?
Think about how much you do said activity. How big a part of your life it is.
Now try and think for a moment, what your life and you would be like without that
item/activity? Post your answers and then I'll post mine.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
The difference is submininal.
Catch the irony, if you might. Of the world we live in.
Just take a breath and smell it, so to speak.
Watch things that you find to be normal, and see your own abnormality.
People don't realize themselves sometimes, something I've learned and has been very much reinforced.
They don't realize how smart people really are, or how stupid.
I couldn't tell you how many times my vacant expressions have let people shrug me off as a non-thinking head.
Thats wonderful and all, but sadly they were wrong and played right into my game.
It's better, in my very shallow opinon, to think of most things in life as simply a game.
Not the important stuff mind you, but the mind-tactfulness of everyday life is fun to play around with.
Really test if people seem to notice themselves, try and give them a wake up call.
Think about a subconsious action, and watch it get corrupted by the consious mind.
Test this on other people.
We're all really the same, and if so than this theory stands for everybody.
Now really pick your mind to realize that, if this is true... Is the consious mind where errors occur?
The subconsious mind is an area were exactness seems to always prevail.
The subconsious mind is the driving force in learning and pretty much any day to day action.
So, is it really the consious or unconsious mind that we are trying to teach?
Good question don't you think?
Just take a breath and smell it, so to speak.
Watch things that you find to be normal, and see your own abnormality.
People don't realize themselves sometimes, something I've learned and has been very much reinforced.
They don't realize how smart people really are, or how stupid.
I couldn't tell you how many times my vacant expressions have let people shrug me off as a non-thinking head.
Thats wonderful and all, but sadly they were wrong and played right into my game.
It's better, in my very shallow opinon, to think of most things in life as simply a game.
Not the important stuff mind you, but the mind-tactfulness of everyday life is fun to play around with.
Really test if people seem to notice themselves, try and give them a wake up call.
Think about a subconsious action, and watch it get corrupted by the consious mind.
Test this on other people.
We're all really the same, and if so than this theory stands for everybody.
Now really pick your mind to realize that, if this is true... Is the consious mind where errors occur?
The subconsious mind is an area were exactness seems to always prevail.
The subconsious mind is the driving force in learning and pretty much any day to day action.
So, is it really the consious or unconsious mind that we are trying to teach?
Good question don't you think?
Random Blather.
I sat for a long while with my I bar blinking in front of me.
Picking my brains to try and translate this music into words.
This music has been playing in my head, soothing shallow tones.
Just ones to keep me occupied when I'm doing a humdrum task, or bored.
I've been trying to translate this into words, so I can pass onto you the key to fufillment.
Is really just training your mind to do what it really wants.
I have a tendoncy of typing questionmarks at the end of my statements.
I have a tendoncy of dwelling too much on thought and a lot less on action.
I like to be called "Link" and "Old Soul" because they make me feel a little more like No One.
Picking my brains to try and translate this music into words.
This music has been playing in my head, soothing shallow tones.
Just ones to keep me occupied when I'm doing a humdrum task, or bored.
I've been trying to translate this into words, so I can pass onto you the key to fufillment.
Is really just training your mind to do what it really wants.
I have a tendoncy of typing questionmarks at the end of my statements.
I have a tendoncy of dwelling too much on thought and a lot less on action.
I like to be called "Link" and "Old Soul" because they make me feel a little more like No One.
Monday, October 1, 2007
I think you've got the sickness, I suggest you get it cured.
I think you've got the sickness, I suggest you get it cured.
I suggest you grab that bottle, and pop that pill.
I suggest, I enforce, I watchfully wait for your response.
How would you even know what the sickness is?
I don't see you exhibiting the symptoms yourself.
Or maybe thats just my imagination flashing before me.
I live my live, like the captain of a sinking ship.
I'll do whatever I can to live it to the very end.
I won't abandon, Not for anything.
Don't tell me that you know how my life has been.
Don't say it like everybody else has, telling me what's going on in my head.
You wouldn't know, I don't think you were there. Not at my pivotal moments. Never.
I've done the best to stay afloat in this world of doubt, lies, deceit and destruction.
Not that that means anything to you.
I'm pretty fucking content if you'd like to know.
So scribble that down on your notepad. And sign your name at the bottom.
And give me the exit I'll never take.
Some people need this door, but I don't.
I don't know if I ever will.
But I know I don't need it now.
Thanks for the offer.
Cured.
I suggest you grab that bottle, and pop that pill.
I suggest, I enforce, I watchfully wait for your response.
How would you even know what the sickness is?
I don't see you exhibiting the symptoms yourself.
Or maybe thats just my imagination flashing before me.
I live my live, like the captain of a sinking ship.
I'll do whatever I can to live it to the very end.
I won't abandon, Not for anything.
Don't tell me that you know how my life has been.
Don't say it like everybody else has, telling me what's going on in my head.
You wouldn't know, I don't think you were there. Not at my pivotal moments. Never.
I've done the best to stay afloat in this world of doubt, lies, deceit and destruction.
Not that that means anything to you.
I'm pretty fucking content if you'd like to know.
So scribble that down on your notepad. And sign your name at the bottom.
And give me the exit I'll never take.
Some people need this door, but I don't.
I don't know if I ever will.
But I know I don't need it now.
Thanks for the offer.
Cured.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
God? Where has my inner voice gone?
You know that voice that narrates situations to you inside your head?
It's defiantly your own voice, usually satisfying or verifying your actions.
When you're alone, with people, or neither. (Good luck pulling that one off.) But regardless, it's always there. For some people it's subconscious. For others, it's a little closer to the surface. Usually, you'll hear what you wouldn't want to say, or perhaps just for the novelty of the situation; Randomness.
One day it's there, the other it's gone.
(UNFINISHED DUE TO DISTRACTION.)
It's defiantly your own voice, usually satisfying or verifying your actions.
When you're alone, with people, or neither. (Good luck pulling that one off.) But regardless, it's always there. For some people it's subconscious. For others, it's a little closer to the surface. Usually, you'll hear what you wouldn't want to say, or perhaps just for the novelty of the situation; Randomness.
One day it's there, the other it's gone.
(UNFINISHED DUE TO DISTRACTION.)
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Apostrophe.
They say insomnia will drive you crazy.
I believe that without a doubt in my mind.
More and more I find myself staring into the digital numbers 4:59AM.
I'm a slave to my own thoughts, as most insomniacs are.
My heart pounds inside my chest as more ideas enter my brain.
Waves and waves up them. Compelling me to get back out of bed and begin.
Time is of no worth in my room. The light from the new day does not come down. And is not welcome. My new day begins when I am quite ready, as my friends will often tell me.
I've battled with sleep since I was very young. Still I tend to lose, as sleep often escapes me. Leaving me awake and restless. Preying on whatever I can get my hands on.
The thoughts that will stir about at this time, are questionable even by my own standards. I do wonder if this "brain corruption" is really what's going on behind the scenes. And it's just rationalized by the outer shell starting to go off line.
I do wonder. And ponder. And think.
Stressing the already tired brain cells to rationalize the moments that pass.
They come up with nothing but this plausible writing.
"They" say that insomniacs are never really asleep. But never quite awake.
I believe this to be true as well.
There have been times where I've doubted that I was still awake. Even when the obvious signs are there.
I suppose it was the fact that, during the waking hours of the day, most people do not wish they were dreaming. I say most, very importantly, because I do know people who wish they were trapped in a dream.
Exhaustion is funny. All of your systems seem to go invalid. Your eyes zone in and out. Your nose tingles, though there is no further stimulation than before. Your stomach does not understand why or what is going on at all. And your mind accepts all of these now, because it itself is slightly broken down. This is the only time where I can cross the threshold of insanity for a while, and not mind all that much.
If I think back to when I started writing this, only 10 or so minutes before. I named this Apostrophe. If I try and rationalize this thought, nothing comes. However, apparently moments ago, I was able to. Now tell me, is it because my mind has fallen ever so more closer to insanity since that moment? Or is it because it has fallen out of insanity due to exhaustion?
I've been meaning to touch on the meaning of insanity for quite a long time, though I do not feel tonight is the best night to convey it to you. Expect it soon though.
I believe that without a doubt in my mind.
More and more I find myself staring into the digital numbers 4:59AM.
I'm a slave to my own thoughts, as most insomniacs are.
My heart pounds inside my chest as more ideas enter my brain.
Waves and waves up them. Compelling me to get back out of bed and begin.
Time is of no worth in my room. The light from the new day does not come down. And is not welcome. My new day begins when I am quite ready, as my friends will often tell me.
I've battled with sleep since I was very young. Still I tend to lose, as sleep often escapes me. Leaving me awake and restless. Preying on whatever I can get my hands on.
The thoughts that will stir about at this time, are questionable even by my own standards. I do wonder if this "brain corruption" is really what's going on behind the scenes. And it's just rationalized by the outer shell starting to go off line.
I do wonder. And ponder. And think.
Stressing the already tired brain cells to rationalize the moments that pass.
They come up with nothing but this plausible writing.
"They" say that insomniacs are never really asleep. But never quite awake.
I believe this to be true as well.
There have been times where I've doubted that I was still awake. Even when the obvious signs are there.
I suppose it was the fact that, during the waking hours of the day, most people do not wish they were dreaming. I say most, very importantly, because I do know people who wish they were trapped in a dream.
Exhaustion is funny. All of your systems seem to go invalid. Your eyes zone in and out. Your nose tingles, though there is no further stimulation than before. Your stomach does not understand why or what is going on at all. And your mind accepts all of these now, because it itself is slightly broken down. This is the only time where I can cross the threshold of insanity for a while, and not mind all that much.
If I think back to when I started writing this, only 10 or so minutes before. I named this Apostrophe. If I try and rationalize this thought, nothing comes. However, apparently moments ago, I was able to. Now tell me, is it because my mind has fallen ever so more closer to insanity since that moment? Or is it because it has fallen out of insanity due to exhaustion?
I've been meaning to touch on the meaning of insanity for quite a long time, though I do not feel tonight is the best night to convey it to you. Expect it soon though.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Thirsty.
This moment is pure liquid. It runs through my fingers.
It splashes all over my body.
My body that has become one with my vehicle.
I've never felt so disconnected with myself and connected with nothingness.
I've never felt more satisfied and dissatisfied at the very same time.
The triple digits on my speedometer mean nothing at all.
Step into this liquid. Freeze-frame your life at high speed.
Theres no fear. No improbability.
It's just like chess. My moves are strategic. Calculated.
I couldn't tell you the perfection of the movement motion explosion.
But I do not shake. Not anymore. The adrenaline has become one with my blood.
This feeling is inescapable. My heart pumps acid.
My lungs tinge with readiness.
Step into this liquid. Step into this moment.
Step into this life, so close to death. And yet so far away.
Zen achieved.
And yet. I'm still thirsty.
It splashes all over my body.
My body that has become one with my vehicle.
I've never felt so disconnected with myself and connected with nothingness.
I've never felt more satisfied and dissatisfied at the very same time.
The triple digits on my speedometer mean nothing at all.
Step into this liquid. Freeze-frame your life at high speed.
Theres no fear. No improbability.
It's just like chess. My moves are strategic. Calculated.
I couldn't tell you the perfection of the movement motion explosion.
But I do not shake. Not anymore. The adrenaline has become one with my blood.
This feeling is inescapable. My heart pumps acid.
My lungs tinge with readiness.
Step into this liquid. Step into this moment.
Step into this life, so close to death. And yet so far away.
Zen achieved.
And yet. I'm still thirsty.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
"Animal I Have Become"
Ever notice what happens to people over time?
They change.
It's kind of hard to grasp, but for many different reasons their personality morphs.
Just remember that everyone is a product of their environment at this point. This includes family and friends. Thats pretty much the composition of people.
Too many people make the mistake of surrounding themselves with the same type of people. Instead of keeping a broad group with many different people. It'll help round you out a bit. You'll be more understanding, accepting and open. Think about it once in a while, and you'll realize your friends (and foes) have quite the influence on you.
I talked about this with my friends the other day. What would happen to you if you were completely isolated for a long time?
Would you forget how to speak?
Would the same final influences before your solitude continue to loop?
Would your instincts be the basis of your daily life?
Your direct influence would be your environment minus the interaction with other human beings... (Animals are not excluded..)
So still, you'd be influenced by a being(s). Would you inherit the animalistic ways of your environment?
My best guess is yes.
They change.
It's kind of hard to grasp, but for many different reasons their personality morphs.
Just remember that everyone is a product of their environment at this point. This includes family and friends. Thats pretty much the composition of people.
Too many people make the mistake of surrounding themselves with the same type of people. Instead of keeping a broad group with many different people. It'll help round you out a bit. You'll be more understanding, accepting and open. Think about it once in a while, and you'll realize your friends (and foes) have quite the influence on you.
I talked about this with my friends the other day. What would happen to you if you were completely isolated for a long time?
Would you forget how to speak?
Would the same final influences before your solitude continue to loop?
Would your instincts be the basis of your daily life?
Your direct influence would be your environment minus the interaction with other human beings... (Animals are not excluded..)
So still, you'd be influenced by a being(s). Would you inherit the animalistic ways of your environment?
My best guess is yes.
"The Good Left Undone"
"In fields where nothing grew but weeds,
I found a flower at my feet,
Bending there in my direction,
I wrapped a hand around its stem,
I pulled until the roots gave in,
Finding now what I’ve been missing,
But I know…
So I tell myself, I tell myself it’s wrong.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
Inside my hands these petals browned,
Dried up, fallen to the ground
But it was already too late now.
I pushed my fingers through the earth,
Returned this flower to the dirt,
So it can live. I walked away now.
But I know…
Not a day goes by that I don’t feel it’s burn.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long,
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
All because of you…
All because of you…
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
Inside these arms of yours.
All because of you,
I believe in angels.
Not the kind with wings,
No, not the kind with halos,
The kind that bring you home,
When home becomes a strange place.
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out."
Note: This isn't mine, but it's one of my favorite songs. I love the lyrics. They're worth the read. I promise.
I found a flower at my feet,
Bending there in my direction,
I wrapped a hand around its stem,
I pulled until the roots gave in,
Finding now what I’ve been missing,
But I know…
So I tell myself, I tell myself it’s wrong.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
Inside my hands these petals browned,
Dried up, fallen to the ground
But it was already too late now.
I pushed my fingers through the earth,
Returned this flower to the dirt,
So it can live. I walked away now.
But I know…
Not a day goes by that I don’t feel it’s burn.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long,
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
All because of you…
All because of you…
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
Inside these arms of yours.
All because of you,
I believe in angels.
Not the kind with wings,
No, not the kind with halos,
The kind that bring you home,
When home becomes a strange place.
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out."
Note: This isn't mine, but it's one of my favorite songs. I love the lyrics. They're worth the read. I promise.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
I choose not to remain ignorant to my life.
And I will not allow myself to be corrupted like everyone else seems to be.
Oh wait.
Too late.
I've been corrupted long before they even sensed it.
So why is it that the world keeps turning?
Are these the tried and true methods of life?
I am horrible.
And so are you...
But I am far worse.
Worse is only a word and point of view.
Does that make it any less meaningful?
More than you can realize.
I guess this also answers the question about human definition.
That everything is just a method of defining life. Defining point of view. The only way that things can make sense.
I am far worse.
I am far worse.
And I will not allow myself to be corrupted like everyone else seems to be.
Oh wait.
Too late.
I've been corrupted long before they even sensed it.
So why is it that the world keeps turning?
Are these the tried and true methods of life?
I am horrible.
And so are you...
But I am far worse.
Worse is only a word and point of view.
Does that make it any less meaningful?
More than you can realize.
I guess this also answers the question about human definition.
That everything is just a method of defining life. Defining point of view. The only way that things can make sense.
I am far worse.
I am far worse.
I'm still trying to find...
free·dom
–noun
1. the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint: He won his freedom after a retrial.
2. exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.
3. the power to determine action without restraint.
Freedom. Something that so many people search for and extraordinarily few actually find. I've been searching my mind for so long for true freedom. So far I've found that a free mind is an impossible one. I asked friends of mine.
"Do you ever think there will be a single moment in your life that you are able to completely quiet your mind? Complete peace?"
Their replies were skeptical, and simply put. "Life is everything...But peace."
A free mind can solve any problem, escape any situation and do anything due to its extreme and rare clarity. You can tell me that your mind is free, but I do not believe you. Your layers of thought betray you, because just this statement is proof your mind is not free.
"Siddhartha Gautama, founder of Buddhism, was born in India 500 years before Christ. He began life as a privileged prince, but in his late 20s gave up his royal existence in the pursuit of enlightenment and spiritual awakening."
I suppose the Buddhists are on the right track. Their religion is all about finding mental clarity and peace with yourself. In an ideal world, they're awesome. Sadly, our world is nothing close to ideal. Also, Siddhartha must've been pretty close if any. He was able to give up royalty and an easier life for this quest. Regardless, I'm no advocate of religion.
Moving on.
"To work with changes now, in life: That is the real way to prepare for death. Life may be full of pain, suffering, and difficulty, but all of these are opportunities handed to us to help us move toward an emotional acceptance of death. It is only when we believe things to be permanent that we shut off the possibility of learning from change."
---Sogyal Rinpoche
Is death the only doorway to peace?
Or is peace the only doorway to death?
Or is peace the only true doorway to happiness?
Peace = Freedom. A simple equation.
When you've got nothing to lose or gain. You're free.
I don't think I'll ever find freedom.
And I don't think I care.
–noun
1. the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint: He won his freedom after a retrial.
2. exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.
3. the power to determine action without restraint.
Freedom. Something that so many people search for and extraordinarily few actually find. I've been searching my mind for so long for true freedom. So far I've found that a free mind is an impossible one. I asked friends of mine.
"Do you ever think there will be a single moment in your life that you are able to completely quiet your mind? Complete peace?"
Their replies were skeptical, and simply put. "Life is everything...But peace."
A free mind can solve any problem, escape any situation and do anything due to its extreme and rare clarity. You can tell me that your mind is free, but I do not believe you. Your layers of thought betray you, because just this statement is proof your mind is not free.
"Siddhartha Gautama, founder of Buddhism, was born in India 500 years before Christ. He began life as a privileged prince, but in his late 20s gave up his royal existence in the pursuit of enlightenment and spiritual awakening."
I suppose the Buddhists are on the right track. Their religion is all about finding mental clarity and peace with yourself. In an ideal world, they're awesome. Sadly, our world is nothing close to ideal. Also, Siddhartha must've been pretty close if any. He was able to give up royalty and an easier life for this quest. Regardless, I'm no advocate of religion.
Moving on.
"To work with changes now, in life: That is the real way to prepare for death. Life may be full of pain, suffering, and difficulty, but all of these are opportunities handed to us to help us move toward an emotional acceptance of death. It is only when we believe things to be permanent that we shut off the possibility of learning from change."
---Sogyal Rinpoche
Is death the only doorway to peace?
Or is peace the only doorway to death?
Or is peace the only true doorway to happiness?
Peace = Freedom. A simple equation.
When you've got nothing to lose or gain. You're free.
I don't think I'll ever find freedom.
And I don't think I care.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Fantasy (Reply)
Well, to begin. I enjoyed reading everyone's responses. Each thought out and well written.
To start, Heres the definition of Fantasy according to the dictionary.
1. imagination, esp. when extravagant and unrestrained.
2. the forming of mental images, esp. wondrous or strange fancies; imaginative conceptualizing.
3. a mental image, esp. when unreal or fantastic; vision: a nightmare fantasy.
4. Psychology. an imagined or conjured up sequence fulfilling a psychological need; daydream.
5. a hallucination.
6. a supposition based on no solid foundation; visionary idea; illusion: dreams of Utopias and similar fantasies.
7. caprice; whim.
8. an ingenious or fanciful thought, design, or invention.
9. Also, fantasia. Literature. an imaginative or fanciful work, esp. one dealing with supernatural or unnatural events or characters: The stories of Poe are fantasies of horror.
–verb (used with object), verb (used without object)
11. to form mental images; imagine; fantasize.
12. Rare. to write or play fantasias.
Pretty interesting huh? This definition tells us that fantasy is as well entwined with daydreams as it is invention. Also suggests that a daydream is in fact a psychological need. Strikingly weird, it also says that an ingenious idea can be a fantasy.
Now think of this question. "What's your fantasy?"
Is it a singular experience that you secretly long for?
Perhaps, your fantasy is to defy a physics constant?
Or maybe attain the heart of someone?
Fantasies in themselves, are both a weakness and a strength. Fantasies allow, like anonymous said a goal to strive towards. Even if, (Which not always) it is unattainable. They are what allow inventors, writers and dreamers to create what they do. The mind needs some element of fantasy for personally, my mind is not quenched so easily by what is available. It is always seeking nourishment from normal sources. That fantasy is a world in which we create to entertain and test ideas we would never dare venture towards in reality.
You say this is weakness, I disagree. Weakness is those who remain in a fantasy never to return to their true life. Fantasies are dangerous though, most times untamed. There have been many people not able to wake from their fantasies. Some stuck permanently within them.
Think about what you consider to be a fantasy.
Think about the people you know, and what their fantasy might be.
It has been said that to see someone's fantasy is to see into the true inner workings of their mind. Because, most minds strive towards their fantasy. So their actions have the undertone of this.
No one can truly be in touch with reality if they don't leave it from to time.
It helps to find the distinguishable line. A learned person has been to both sides of the war. Not only one. Journeying too far on either side, and you will be lost without chance.
Keep your mind open. And take the journey.
To start, Heres the definition of Fantasy according to the dictionary.
1. imagination, esp. when extravagant and unrestrained.
2. the forming of mental images, esp. wondrous or strange fancies; imaginative conceptualizing.
3. a mental image, esp. when unreal or fantastic; vision: a nightmare fantasy.
4. Psychology. an imagined or conjured up sequence fulfilling a psychological need; daydream.
5. a hallucination.
6. a supposition based on no solid foundation; visionary idea; illusion: dreams of Utopias and similar fantasies.
7. caprice; whim.
8. an ingenious or fanciful thought, design, or invention.
9. Also, fantasia. Literature. an imaginative or fanciful work, esp. one dealing with supernatural or unnatural events or characters: The stories of Poe are fantasies of horror.
–verb (used with object), verb (used without object)
11. to form mental images; imagine; fantasize.
12. Rare. to write or play fantasias.
Pretty interesting huh? This definition tells us that fantasy is as well entwined with daydreams as it is invention. Also suggests that a daydream is in fact a psychological need. Strikingly weird, it also says that an ingenious idea can be a fantasy.
Now think of this question. "What's your fantasy?"
Is it a singular experience that you secretly long for?
Perhaps, your fantasy is to defy a physics constant?
Or maybe attain the heart of someone?
Fantasies in themselves, are both a weakness and a strength. Fantasies allow, like anonymous said a goal to strive towards. Even if, (Which not always) it is unattainable. They are what allow inventors, writers and dreamers to create what they do. The mind needs some element of fantasy for personally, my mind is not quenched so easily by what is available. It is always seeking nourishment from normal sources. That fantasy is a world in which we create to entertain and test ideas we would never dare venture towards in reality.
You say this is weakness, I disagree. Weakness is those who remain in a fantasy never to return to their true life. Fantasies are dangerous though, most times untamed. There have been many people not able to wake from their fantasies. Some stuck permanently within them.
Think about what you consider to be a fantasy.
Think about the people you know, and what their fantasy might be.
It has been said that to see someone's fantasy is to see into the true inner workings of their mind. Because, most minds strive towards their fantasy. So their actions have the undertone of this.
No one can truly be in touch with reality if they don't leave it from to time.
It helps to find the distinguishable line. A learned person has been to both sides of the war. Not only one. Journeying too far on either side, and you will be lost without chance.
Keep your mind open. And take the journey.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Fantasy.
Well...
I want you guys to anonymously post what you define the word fantasy as.
I've got a couple thoughts on this so make sure it's good.
I'll post my reply when I get 5 or more.
I want you guys to anonymously post what you define the word fantasy as.
I've got a couple thoughts on this so make sure it's good.
I'll post my reply when I get 5 or more.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Mirror Mirror On The Wall...
Mirror mirror on the wall...
Can I ask you a question?
Am I really here?
Or is this reflection just an empty shell of where I used to be...
I guess you can't answer that can you.
It's true..
Sometimes I just look at myself in the mirror to make sure that I'm still myself.
Today I looked, and saw no one familiar.
Not that I've changed, but more to the effect that I never knew myself to begin with.
I looked into my friend's faces today.. Kind of letting them imprint my mind.
I felt sad. Sad because as life is inevitable tragedy. And I'm so tired of hearing tragedy. I guess I wished that life wasn't the way it is.. for any of them. And that happiness would always be there.
Can I ask you a question?
Am I really here?
Or is this reflection just an empty shell of where I used to be...
I guess you can't answer that can you.
It's true..
Sometimes I just look at myself in the mirror to make sure that I'm still myself.
Today I looked, and saw no one familiar.
Not that I've changed, but more to the effect that I never knew myself to begin with.
I looked into my friend's faces today.. Kind of letting them imprint my mind.
I felt sad. Sad because as life is inevitable tragedy. And I'm so tired of hearing tragedy. I guess I wished that life wasn't the way it is.. for any of them. And that happiness would always be there.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
I am No One.
I'm writing this out of pure insomnia induced insanity.
Ever stop doing something, just for a second and wonder where your headed?
Very seldom, do I actually do this. Most of the time, I'm concerned with simply what is happening today and nothing more.
Maybe it's just my mental deformities that cause me to think in such a way.
Not to say that anybody really has their life paved out for them.
After all, we are all walking in the same race, though somehow I feel like I'm destined to come in last.
I'm completely o.k. with this.
I take the title of No One, because very seldom do I actually feel like someone.
As a whole person, I'm more composed of stories than I am experiences.
Like a ghost, that just happened to be around while these things were taking place.
Lost in limbo forever.
For a while this was just supposed to be unspecific writings not focused on my personal feelings. While still unspecific, focus has changed. And for this I apologize.
Reality is but a spinning cycle of events completely lost in a made up scale.
Ask me the time or date.
I'll bet you 8/10 chance I won't know it.
Why you ask?
Maybe I'm just stupid.
Or Maybe I'm playing a game with myself to escape from the tortures of our man made scale.
How old am I?
Not too old, and never old enough.
But not young either.
I'm just here.
Religion is one of those things thats supposed to put some structure in human life.
Think about it?
If you live completely abstract from society and rules than basically it becomes a life of anarchy you lead.
This makes making judgments a lot harder. You have no set of guidelines imposed on you to make sense from the experience. Your rules and guidelines become those that your environment has imposed onto you in your solitude. Truly could be anything.
With good intention became corrupt intention.
(And so corrupt intention has alerted followers of it's presence, and such has lost them.)
Structure has never been a friend to my life.
And yet I've never even rebelled to it.
It just never came along.
Everything, from this age has gone against those morals and rules that were imposed on me by my friends, family and leaders.
I live a life, not lead, but not leading either.
I'd love to think I've got a goals, but such goals have been fogged.
Them becoming a true possibility has been hurt by my apathy.
So I sit here, in this moment..
4:36AM frozen forever.
I'll awaken when I finally get to sleep.
Or maybe I won't, and I'll stay in dream land forever.
I sure do like it here.
I am No One.
I am the thoughts you choose not to allow to come to consciousness.
I am the hidden shadow behind your beautiful exterior.
I am the unaffected, unavailable and impossible.
I am not banished or welcomed.
4:36AM
I guess I will be asleep forever.
No ma__er people wi__ no_ mi__ m_.
My l_a____e_e o_ w___ g_ u_no_ti_ce_.
I ____ __ ____ __ ____.
_______ __ _______.
Ever stop doing something, just for a second and wonder where your headed?
Very seldom, do I actually do this. Most of the time, I'm concerned with simply what is happening today and nothing more.
Maybe it's just my mental deformities that cause me to think in such a way.
Not to say that anybody really has their life paved out for them.
After all, we are all walking in the same race, though somehow I feel like I'm destined to come in last.
I'm completely o.k. with this.
I take the title of No One, because very seldom do I actually feel like someone.
As a whole person, I'm more composed of stories than I am experiences.
Like a ghost, that just happened to be around while these things were taking place.
Lost in limbo forever.
For a while this was just supposed to be unspecific writings not focused on my personal feelings. While still unspecific, focus has changed. And for this I apologize.
Reality is but a spinning cycle of events completely lost in a made up scale.
Ask me the time or date.
I'll bet you 8/10 chance I won't know it.
Why you ask?
Maybe I'm just stupid.
Or Maybe I'm playing a game with myself to escape from the tortures of our man made scale.
How old am I?
Not too old, and never old enough.
But not young either.
I'm just here.
Religion is one of those things thats supposed to put some structure in human life.
Think about it?
If you live completely abstract from society and rules than basically it becomes a life of anarchy you lead.
This makes making judgments a lot harder. You have no set of guidelines imposed on you to make sense from the experience. Your rules and guidelines become those that your environment has imposed onto you in your solitude. Truly could be anything.
With good intention became corrupt intention.
(And so corrupt intention has alerted followers of it's presence, and such has lost them.)
Structure has never been a friend to my life.
And yet I've never even rebelled to it.
It just never came along.
Everything, from this age has gone against those morals and rules that were imposed on me by my friends, family and leaders.
I live a life, not lead, but not leading either.
I'd love to think I've got a goals, but such goals have been fogged.
Them becoming a true possibility has been hurt by my apathy.
So I sit here, in this moment..
4:36AM frozen forever.
I'll awaken when I finally get to sleep.
Or maybe I won't, and I'll stay in dream land forever.
I sure do like it here.
I am No One.
I am the thoughts you choose not to allow to come to consciousness.
I am the hidden shadow behind your beautiful exterior.
I am the unaffected, unavailable and impossible.
I am not banished or welcomed.
4:36AM
I guess I will be asleep forever.
No ma__er people wi__ no_ mi__ m_.
My l_a____e_e o_ w___ g_ u_no_ti_ce_.
I ____ __ ____ __ ____.
_______ __ _______.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
I'm not sure what changed that night, but the allure behind his actions wasn't as glimmering. Suddenly, I realized that he just like all of us. Corrupted. Stealing. Behind that seemingly good soul, there lies one much darker then all of ours. It's funny how one simple action can change your entire outlook on someone. And suddenly, you start to link them together. And they fall from their state of goodness onto the hard concrete of reality.
Stolen you say? Why not in the least. It's only stealing if your prey is aware of your actions.
Your immoralities beseech you to think differently than I do. But you are what you are a bandit. And that you shall remain.
Well, I'm glad you've come to this conclusion so quickly my dear friend. At last my thoughts are no longer incomprehensible.
But I've been you all along, so who truly is at fault here. Your thoughts are simply mine at different level. Two halves of one whole nothing.
Your contradiction has never felt more satisfying.
Stolen you say? Why not in the least. It's only stealing if your prey is aware of your actions.
Your immoralities beseech you to think differently than I do. But you are what you are a bandit. And that you shall remain.
Well, I'm glad you've come to this conclusion so quickly my dear friend. At last my thoughts are no longer incomprehensible.
But I've been you all along, so who truly is at fault here. Your thoughts are simply mine at different level. Two halves of one whole nothing.
Your contradiction has never felt more satisfying.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Cognitive Dissonance
If ever life were so easy, to be described as "clear" I think I might end mine on that day.
Life is nothing of the sort, nothing a tag along like myself could ever truly comprehend.
You say it's easy, I disagree.
I can't help but shake the fact that every thought I have is cognitive dissonance hard at work.
My thoughts do not reflect my behavior.
My thoughts do not reflect my behavior.
My thoughts do not reflect my behavior.
Sometimes I truly wish I was without a name or face.
I find myself watching people from the outside too often, when in fact I'm on the inside of the situation. People amaze me. General action and reaction, speech and behavior. I suppose thats why I handled everything with my parents so well. And with everything that happened. Thinking back, that never really happened to me. I was just watching a story unfold.
Most of the time, I can look at the sky on a beautiful night or even a rainstorm perhaps. And cleanse myself of my life as a whole. Just kind of live in the moment.
It's a beautifully freeing feeling. I hope you'll try it one day.
I had an odd moment today actually. For just a couple seconds, I forgot my entire past. Everything I had known was gone, for just a split second. But there was not happiness, but I was truly afraid. I didn't have a signature, I didn't have anything to guide my action. More or less, I was a blank slate.
My life has been one string of dissonance after another. One string of things that I did but didn't beleive in or things I beleived in but didn't act upon.
So I have to ask, where do these come from?
The thoughts that contridict my clarity?
I suppose this is what you call a conscience. Truly a manifestation of dissonance between our constantly conflicting thoughts. If this is true, then wouldn't that in theory be regarded as multiple personalities? These exist in all human beings. So that begs the question. Why? Is it an advanced controlled-response to previous experiences in life? Take the example of conditioning an animal. The animal takes it's previous experiences into account weighted to make it's decision on it's next action. So the human mind must do this on an advanced level. And because of the advanced brain structure we posses, creates dissonance manifested into two possibilities. However, the weight of the past experiences is determined by the amount of desire for either outcome. And not just two possibilities. But many. This is where advanced thinking comes in.
And this is where I will leave you for tonight.
Life is nothing of the sort, nothing a tag along like myself could ever truly comprehend.
You say it's easy, I disagree.
I can't help but shake the fact that every thought I have is cognitive dissonance hard at work.
My thoughts do not reflect my behavior.
My thoughts do not reflect my behavior.
My thoughts do not reflect my behavior.
Sometimes I truly wish I was without a name or face.
I find myself watching people from the outside too often, when in fact I'm on the inside of the situation. People amaze me. General action and reaction, speech and behavior. I suppose thats why I handled everything with my parents so well. And with everything that happened. Thinking back, that never really happened to me. I was just watching a story unfold.
Most of the time, I can look at the sky on a beautiful night or even a rainstorm perhaps. And cleanse myself of my life as a whole. Just kind of live in the moment.
It's a beautifully freeing feeling. I hope you'll try it one day.
I had an odd moment today actually. For just a couple seconds, I forgot my entire past. Everything I had known was gone, for just a split second. But there was not happiness, but I was truly afraid. I didn't have a signature, I didn't have anything to guide my action. More or less, I was a blank slate.
My life has been one string of dissonance after another. One string of things that I did but didn't beleive in or things I beleived in but didn't act upon.
So I have to ask, where do these come from?
The thoughts that contridict my clarity?
I suppose this is what you call a conscience. Truly a manifestation of dissonance between our constantly conflicting thoughts. If this is true, then wouldn't that in theory be regarded as multiple personalities? These exist in all human beings. So that begs the question. Why? Is it an advanced controlled-response to previous experiences in life? Take the example of conditioning an animal. The animal takes it's previous experiences into account weighted to make it's decision on it's next action. So the human mind must do this on an advanced level. And because of the advanced brain structure we posses, creates dissonance manifested into two possibilities. However, the weight of the past experiences is determined by the amount of desire for either outcome. And not just two possibilities. But many. This is where advanced thinking comes in.
And this is where I will leave you for tonight.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Zero Resistance
Control will never hurt me again
The consequences are too strong
Muisc is my freedom
From parameter and expectation
It releases me from my body
and changes my reason
A true thoughtful high
Experience will help you understand
I wish I could teach you
Oh how you would enjoy it
An impossibility
Zero resistance
The consequences are too strong
Muisc is my freedom
From parameter and expectation
It releases me from my body
and changes my reason
A true thoughtful high
Experience will help you understand
I wish I could teach you
Oh how you would enjoy it
An impossibility
Zero resistance
I live in a world
Not quite reality
Not quite a dream
A perfect mixture of the two
That keeps me sane
I don't need your chemical
Though I don't blame you for your jealousy
I've never really touched the floor
I don't know what my body feels like anymore
I hear it's nice though
You and I are more alike than you think
Though you use the back door
Look for me next time you dream.
Not quite reality
Not quite a dream
A perfect mixture of the two
That keeps me sane
I don't need your chemical
Though I don't blame you for your jealousy
I've never really touched the floor
I don't know what my body feels like anymore
I hear it's nice though
You and I are more alike than you think
Though you use the back door
Look for me next time you dream.
Feel the breath move past my lips
Outward the warmth of my body flows
Oh what a deadly caress
This sensual destruction has never made sense
and yet I can't look away
I have never felt so alive
And yet I'm already dead
Lick your lips and taste my impossibility
Blow me away
This moment of silence
Is really not silence at all
Destroy me again
Your beauty is indescribable
this tantric impossibility
I can't touch the floor
My body is yours
My mind is yours
I have nothing left
And this death has never tasted so amazing
As it all drips away
Kill me again
Take away what no one ever has before
And never will again
Outward the warmth of my body flows
Oh what a deadly caress
This sensual destruction has never made sense
and yet I can't look away
I have never felt so alive
And yet I'm already dead
Lick your lips and taste my impossibility
Blow me away
This moment of silence
Is really not silence at all
Destroy me again
Your beauty is indescribable
this tantric impossibility
I can't touch the floor
My body is yours
My mind is yours
I have nothing left
And this death has never tasted so amazing
As it all drips away
Kill me again
Take away what no one ever has before
And never will again
Let your mind drift into the realm of mine,
Where the line between dreams and what is true fades.
I cannot call this my realm,
Since your mind has dwelled here with me
For as long as I can remember.
I float in thoughtless limbo,
And yet my thoughts are clear
They do not belong to this body,
But you do.
Let your mind fall numb,
To those thoughts of uncertainty
I am what I am not
But you are what you are.
Pins and needles signal my return to truth
And I am what I am once again,
But you are what you are,
Impossibility never seemed so entertaining.
Where the line between dreams and what is true fades.
I cannot call this my realm,
Since your mind has dwelled here with me
For as long as I can remember.
I float in thoughtless limbo,
And yet my thoughts are clear
They do not belong to this body,
But you do.
Let your mind fall numb,
To those thoughts of uncertainty
I am what I am not
But you are what you are.
Pins and needles signal my return to truth
And I am what I am once again,
But you are what you are,
Impossibility never seemed so entertaining.
(untitled)
Acceptance is a brutal uncertain measure
A risk we take
Compromising our beliefs and skeptical thoughts
We are more alike then you think
and I am nothing like what I am
Listen
And beleive
Accept me for what I am, gnihton
gnihtyreve is nothing but backwards.
A risk we take
Compromising our beliefs and skeptical thoughts
We are more alike then you think
and I am nothing like what I am
Listen
And beleive
Accept me for what I am, gnihton
gnihtyreve is nothing but backwards.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Blades.
Eight days of the week
I'm dead on my feet.
I can't beleive my eyes,
The world is turning on me again
But than again what can I expect
I've built up my expectation
Haven't been felled by tempation
I will never be free,
I will never be free,
Let me go
Like a zombie I return
Reborn underneath crimson skies
I awaken to my ability to fly
Seconds hang with me in the air
And everything is silent
The wind passes across my skin
Everything and nothing matters
Maybe this is life
Maybe this is death
What do I know anyway?
Let my reanimated body fly again
Let my soul pour out of my skin
No obstacles will stop me
My body will not limit me anymore
Let me soar in blissful antigravity
Sharp as they might be
My tools keep me sane
They numb the pain
My body is impossible
My mind is corrupt
But I am free
(TBC)
I'm dead on my feet.
I can't beleive my eyes,
The world is turning on me again
But than again what can I expect
I've built up my expectation
Haven't been felled by tempation
I will never be free,
I will never be free,
Let me go
Like a zombie I return
Reborn underneath crimson skies
I awaken to my ability to fly
Seconds hang with me in the air
And everything is silent
The wind passes across my skin
Everything and nothing matters
Maybe this is life
Maybe this is death
What do I know anyway?
Let my reanimated body fly again
Let my soul pour out of my skin
No obstacles will stop me
My body will not limit me anymore
Let me soar in blissful antigravity
Sharp as they might be
My tools keep me sane
They numb the pain
My body is impossible
My mind is corrupt
But I am free
(TBC)
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Untitled
I've actually been looking for this picture for a while...
It reminds me of how I've always felt during a party or some kind of gathering with different mind-altering things around.
Not really a total part of the situation I just kind of sit and let everyone pass by me. Almost feels like seconds, when it is really hours. At the same time I enjoy that feeling, knowing that most of the people around me will not retain memory about me, minus the fact that I was present. Almost like a ghost. To be quite honest, I don't know why I enjoy that feeling. But it's almost a feeling of freedom. After all, what am I supposed to do. It's mind altering, in its own way. Watching the modification of others. I suppose it's that, that I enjoy watching.
It reminds me of how I've always felt during a party or some kind of gathering with different mind-altering things around.
Not really a total part of the situation I just kind of sit and let everyone pass by me. Almost feels like seconds, when it is really hours. At the same time I enjoy that feeling, knowing that most of the people around me will not retain memory about me, minus the fact that I was present. Almost like a ghost. To be quite honest, I don't know why I enjoy that feeling. But it's almost a feeling of freedom. After all, what am I supposed to do. It's mind altering, in its own way. Watching the modification of others. I suppose it's that, that I enjoy watching.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Primal.
Oh, Primal my love. Why do you prey upon my thoughts?
You are the cause for this madness, and yet I cannot get away.
I am trapped in the homeostatic nature of my brain.
Primal, don't ever leave.
I was programmed to be corrupted. And left with my own destructive government.
Primal, Ilove HATE you.
You are the cause for this madness, and yet I cannot get away.
I am trapped in the homeostatic nature of my brain.
Primal, don't ever leave.
I was programmed to be corrupted. And left with my own destructive government.
Primal, I
L etter
The definition lies poignant on my thoughts.
Appealing in a nature thats more than just arousal.
The fierce remembrance of that one vulnerability.
One-weak-link, so to speak.
The structure starts to decay, and slowly fall away.
Reasons, consequences no longer apply.
Diluded by this madness, your thoughts are frayed.
You're exactly what you were at first, mere animal.
Appealing in a nature thats more than just arousal.
The fierce remembrance of that one vulnerability.
One-weak-link, so to speak.
The structure starts to decay, and slowly fall away.
Reasons, consequences no longer apply.
Diluded by this madness, your thoughts are frayed.
You're exactly what you were at first, mere animal.
Difference Theory
I have a theory on the difference between people, between intelligence, between everything.
That people, or at least most people, choose their state of mind. To have an active or dormant thinking process. To be overlearned in somethings and not so much in others. To be in mental freefall or to have control. I've come to the realization that I have a mental-control complex. That I will not allow my mind to go into freefall as long as I can help it. More-so that I'm afraid of losing the one power I have cherished my entire life, my ability to think in more than just linear or lateral motion. I'm not actually sure if thats how I think though. Since I've never been inside anybody else's head except my own. I've come close, and from what I learned.. So far, some select people show this non-linear thought process. Most do not. Thats pretty much the only true difference I've been able to draw between people. Baring the more extreme cases, most people think along the same lines. Similar people tend to stay together, and dissimilar people will stay together for a while only to destroy each other after a certain time. This kind of circles around my intelligence theory.
Is that what intelligence is? Having a multi-thread processing brain?
That one I've still to this day not been able to put a label on. But indeed the concept of multiple intelligences appeals to me. Anyway, thats a totally different tangent to run off onto.
That people, or at least most people, choose their state of mind. To have an active or dormant thinking process. To be overlearned in somethings and not so much in others. To be in mental freefall or to have control. I've come to the realization that I have a mental-control complex. That I will not allow my mind to go into freefall as long as I can help it. More-so that I'm afraid of losing the one power I have cherished my entire life, my ability to think in more than just linear or lateral motion. I'm not actually sure if thats how I think though. Since I've never been inside anybody else's head except my own. I've come close, and from what I learned.. So far, some select people show this non-linear thought process. Most do not. Thats pretty much the only true difference I've been able to draw between people. Baring the more extreme cases, most people think along the same lines. Similar people tend to stay together, and dissimilar people will stay together for a while only to destroy each other after a certain time. This kind of circles around my intelligence theory.
Is that what intelligence is? Having a multi-thread processing brain?
That one I've still to this day not been able to put a label on. But indeed the concept of multiple intelligences appeals to me. Anyway, thats a totally different tangent to run off onto.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Unlock.
As I create my network of destructive signals,
I wonder why I choose to engage in the activities that I do.
And why it is these things, that pull me out of bordem and into my active state.
Why is my mind fashioned the way it is?
My entire life, it has done nothing but defer me from accomplishing the goals that so many other people choose to aspire to. But somehow I think this is what makes me different from them.
My parents, for a long time couldn't cope with the fact that I would constantly have a desire to learn about technology and mechanics. My friends couldn't either. But yet, I was still told for the longest time that I was 'special' and 'different'. I cannot tell you how many times I've heard the phrase 'Is capable of so much more' said, in refrence to my school grades. I never really gave them the time of day. I did just above the minimal amount of work needed to shut them the hell up. The entire time, I would constantly have my head in front of two things. A book, or a piece of technology. My room was littered with the shells of broken phones, computers, copiers, printers, stereos, wires, T.Vs and more. I've been an insomniac for the best portion of my life. And that plague lives on. Reason being, is that an important requirement for me to sleep is that I need to have quelled the need for creation. Basically, accomplish everything I wanted to in the given day. And I've never really been able to do that. I know that once I sleep, I'll loose the vigor I have toward my project. I know sleep is an enemy, that I have no way of fighting against.
I wonder why I choose to engage in the activities that I do.
And why it is these things, that pull me out of bordem and into my active state.
Why is my mind fashioned the way it is?
My entire life, it has done nothing but defer me from accomplishing the goals that so many other people choose to aspire to. But somehow I think this is what makes me different from them.
My parents, for a long time couldn't cope with the fact that I would constantly have a desire to learn about technology and mechanics. My friends couldn't either. But yet, I was still told for the longest time that I was 'special' and 'different'. I cannot tell you how many times I've heard the phrase 'Is capable of so much more' said, in refrence to my school grades. I never really gave them the time of day. I did just above the minimal amount of work needed to shut them the hell up. The entire time, I would constantly have my head in front of two things. A book, or a piece of technology. My room was littered with the shells of broken phones, computers, copiers, printers, stereos, wires, T.Vs and more. I've been an insomniac for the best portion of my life. And that plague lives on. Reason being, is that an important requirement for me to sleep is that I need to have quelled the need for creation. Basically, accomplish everything I wanted to in the given day. And I've never really been able to do that. I know that once I sleep, I'll loose the vigor I have toward my project. I know sleep is an enemy, that I have no way of fighting against.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Draft.
After studying psychology,
I have found...
That why there are constants to behavior, to psychokinetics, to general life and the likes, nobody really knows anything. I could monolouge to myself for hours on the shear amount of speculation that has to do with psychology. How there is a direct correlation with physiology. Or is there?
I had a final today, and I'd say a good 60% of the questions ended in 'most likely' or theory.
So basically, these scientists really have as much solid ground as modern common knowledge allows. With basic correlations between certain traits and other things.
Publish.
I have found...
That why there are constants to behavior, to psychokinetics, to general life and the likes, nobody really knows anything. I could monolouge to myself for hours on the shear amount of speculation that has to do with psychology. How there is a direct correlation with physiology. Or is there?
I had a final today, and I'd say a good 60% of the questions ended in 'most likely' or theory.
So basically, these scientists really have as much solid ground as modern common knowledge allows. With basic correlations between certain traits and other things.
Publish.
Synapse.
Suseptable to all that we can devour.
All that we can metabolize, so to speak.
Dubbed "the space in between" that allows the connections that comprise our brains.
It can also be a source of exploitation for ourselves.
In a moments notice, this gateway can hailed with a malestrom of chemicals.
And that thought you just had, is now something else.
I wish I could explain it.
All that we can metabolize, so to speak.
Dubbed "the space in between" that allows the connections that comprise our brains.
It can also be a source of exploitation for ourselves.
In a moments notice, this gateway can hailed with a malestrom of chemicals.
And that thought you just had, is now something else.
I wish I could explain it.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Social Dependance For Sanity
Something intresting that I touched upon while studing psychology.
It is not health, nor is it monitary status, not even age determines a person's ability to be happy.
It's simply their social interactions, if any.
The more social you are, and the higher quality of individuals around you (according to your own opinion, of cource.) The happier you'll be.
It's funny how they could make that distinction, and it somehow rings truth to the phrase "money doesn't bring happiness." Well, according to these studies it doesn't. And sadly, I'm forced to agree due to my own experience.
Why is it exactly that we depend on others to be happy?
Not solely, of cource since inner happiness can be attained by the simplest of acceptances.
But why do we rely so heavily on the presence of others to be tension free?
Normally, these individuals that we will place around ourselves will only cause us more dissonance rather than free us from it.
It's a question I cannot answer myself.
But food for thought isn't it?
It is not health, nor is it monitary status, not even age determines a person's ability to be happy.
It's simply their social interactions, if any.
The more social you are, and the higher quality of individuals around you (according to your own opinion, of cource.) The happier you'll be.
It's funny how they could make that distinction, and it somehow rings truth to the phrase "money doesn't bring happiness." Well, according to these studies it doesn't. And sadly, I'm forced to agree due to my own experience.
Why is it exactly that we depend on others to be happy?
Not solely, of cource since inner happiness can be attained by the simplest of acceptances.
But why do we rely so heavily on the presence of others to be tension free?
Normally, these individuals that we will place around ourselves will only cause us more dissonance rather than free us from it.
It's a question I cannot answer myself.
But food for thought isn't it?
2:01AM
2:01AM.
Almost symbolic.. this first minute of the 'true' morning passes over me sending a chill up my spine.
I sit in pure silence, or what is pure silence to me.
To anybody else, it would be the whirr of hard drives and the clicking of switches.
I reflect on my day.. pausing once in a while to bask in my overwhelming silence.
The others are asleep, or what sleep has become. An escape from the stress of being awake.
I however, do not abandon my consiousness as easily as them.
I choose to hold onto it with the force of the jaws of life itself.
Even when I do fall victim to slumber, my mind forces me into vivid hallucination.
What sleep has become to me, is a game I force myself to win because of sheer neccesity.
If I were able to abandon all of my regiment against it's attack on my awareness, and succumb to it..
I would be more lost than I am now.
2:02AM.
Time seems to slow as I stare at the seconds moving through me.
Or am I moving through them?
My mind is sadly fatigued with memories of the day that has come to pass,
And then events that have happened.
Still my fingers are compelled to click these switches.
2:03AM.
If I were to count every minute from now, until I fall.. Oh how I wish I could.
Just to know that I have beaten my demon for that long is an amazing victory.
I am enticed by the lush goddess before me.
Come with me she says. Into my world.
My better judgement tells me to ignore the goddess.
But she grows more beautiful and lustful with each passing minute.
2:04AM.
My efforts seem to weather her attempts at me for one solitary moment.
But this moment has come to pass, and another has arisen.
This one that seems even harder to brave.
My eyes grow weary of their current state.. and start to rebel against me.
When I need them most, they seem to wane in vigor.
The goddess seems evermore closer and warmer now.
I fear I am fighting a losing battle.
My thoughts seem to meld together in this fight.
And my reality churns and changes.
Blurs and becomes more virally corrupted.
With every passing second.
Good night.
2:05AM.
Almost symbolic.. this first minute of the 'true' morning passes over me sending a chill up my spine.
I sit in pure silence, or what is pure silence to me.
To anybody else, it would be the whirr of hard drives and the clicking of switches.
I reflect on my day.. pausing once in a while to bask in my overwhelming silence.
The others are asleep, or what sleep has become. An escape from the stress of being awake.
I however, do not abandon my consiousness as easily as them.
I choose to hold onto it with the force of the jaws of life itself.
Even when I do fall victim to slumber, my mind forces me into vivid hallucination.
What sleep has become to me, is a game I force myself to win because of sheer neccesity.
If I were able to abandon all of my regiment against it's attack on my awareness, and succumb to it..
I would be more lost than I am now.
2:02AM.
Time seems to slow as I stare at the seconds moving through me.
Or am I moving through them?
My mind is sadly fatigued with memories of the day that has come to pass,
And then events that have happened.
Still my fingers are compelled to click these switches.
2:03AM.
If I were to count every minute from now, until I fall.. Oh how I wish I could.
Just to know that I have beaten my demon for that long is an amazing victory.
I am enticed by the lush goddess before me.
Come with me she says. Into my world.
My better judgement tells me to ignore the goddess.
But she grows more beautiful and lustful with each passing minute.
2:04AM.
My efforts seem to weather her attempts at me for one solitary moment.
But this moment has come to pass, and another has arisen.
This one that seems even harder to brave.
My eyes grow weary of their current state.. and start to rebel against me.
When I need them most, they seem to wane in vigor.
The goddess seems evermore closer and warmer now.
I fear I am fighting a losing battle.
My thoughts seem to meld together in this fight.
And my reality churns and changes.
Blurs and becomes more virally corrupted.
With every passing second.
Good night.
2:05AM.
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