I am Someone.

"Your machinery is too much for me."

2010-10-18T21:00:00.003-04:00

A beautiful woman once inquired if I am indeed a sociopath.
Her deep brown eyes were accented by her dark eyebrows, raised sadly.
At the time, I wasn't sure what she was looking for. Her eyes constantly scanned me,
waiting for an event to trigger, to burst out from the abyss.

I came to realize, that she was searching me for a semblance of humanity.
For a tiny spark of emotion, for evidence that I wasn't the cold, calculating individual I mask myself as.

I don't think I ever gave her that evidence. She gave up searching, and to say she was alone in this defeat would be a lie. My mother battled this with my father for a long while. And when I inherited this syndrome, she could no longer bear to pry.

"Your machinery is too much for me." Her last words to me still echo in my skull. The pixels dragging themselves across the canvas in my mind. My machinery? The modern man and woman are anything but human, and yet I am labeled as a machine?

We are all machines, as we aren't. As our hard drives click, and our hearts beat, as our servos whine, and our joints crack... We walk the
Earth all searching for humanity in one another. Ever contributing to the slow metamorphosis into the inhuman.

I am human. Fleshy, warm and soft. But, are you?

Life is too short to not stop and take off your clothes with strangers once in a while.

2010-01-04T23:27:00.014-05:00

Her black lacy bra lay at her soft delicate feet.

Her olive skin shimmered in the moon light, as she stood there...
Lips pouting cupping her breasts with a towel.

She was amazingly sensual, touch was completely unnecessary.
I stood in awe for a moment.

We'd just talked and agreed to meet at the small beach.
Her bare skin a detail my subconscious forced me to disregard, to avoid crashing my car in a daydream.

She walked towards me, hips gliding, almost like she was dancing. I was mesmerized.

"Hi."

I was overcome by nervousness. And yet, I managed not to stammer out a greeting. Well, almost.

"H-Hi. How are you?"

Her deep brown eyes were staring into mine, with the slightest hint of shyness. They were caring, soft, understanding... beautiful. They spoke tomes about her. Behind them, I saw she was sad. I could see the deep sadness behind her gaze, and it saddened me to discover it. We're all damaged, I suppose. And, no amount of outer or inner beauty can save us from it.

"I'm good. Definitely not drunk enough to be standing here naked."

I chuckled.

"I'm not drunk enough to handle you standing there naked, if it makes you feel any better."

Her broad smile gave me the confidence I needed, and I stepped closer. She took my hand and we walked over to a small bench next to the oddly placed beach. I heard splashing and laughter, and saw other scantily clad people dancing around in the water.

I kicked the gravel surrounding the bench. The rocks clicked and clacked like marbles.

"This is a pretty weird beach. I don't think I've ever seen it before."

She played with her long brown hair as she talked.
"Yeah... People walk their dogs here, but it's public property. It's called dog beach."

She reached out her arm, and her towel threatened to fall from her otherwise bare chest.
"That over there is private property. But, I've snuck onto there too."

"Quite the rebel, aren't you?" I smiled.

"I try."

We were then joined by the rowdy group of people from the water.
Their shivering salt-water covered bodies coursing with alcohol and nicotine.

There was something they had that I was jealous of. Not once before had I ever stood naked on a random beach, or anywhere.
The freedom to do something like that, stray away from good judgement or rules. Just do something, and quit thinking.

My lifetime up until that point had been throughly weighted decisions, calculated actions and logic. I never felt at peace with who I was, and could never let go of what people might be thinking of me. I was never able to just let go of everything.

The nearby streetlamp cast an orange glow out over the beach, the coastline in the distance glimmered with the same hue of orange. I stared off out into the coast. The lights painted themselves across the water, shimmering as it moved.

"I've never actually skinny dipped before..." I said, with a bit a shame.

Surprise.

"Well, then you have to." Said her friend with a cigarette in between her lips.
"I'm not going to encourage another guy to get naked, but you probably should."

I looked into her eyes.

Standing there, with the girl I adore and people I've never met before. On a public beach, in summertime.

"You know, what... Fuck it. Why not?"

It was a question I could've answered a hundred ways. (Why not? I'll tell you! Wait! Listen!)
My inner voice was yelling at me to make up something. Some reason to escape the situation.

But, I wasn't ready to defeat myself again. I walked down onto the cold wet sand, and started to remove my clothing.

"I'm definitely not drunk enough for this." I muttered half for her, and half for myself.

And we stood there, in a circle in the water. Clutching our bodies tightly, trying to keep as warm and covered as possible.
It was satisfying. With no regret, I stood there. Such an event might seem insignificant, but it wasn't for me.

Life is to short too not stop and take off your clothes with strangers once in a while.

Hello 2010.

2010-01-04T20:23:00.003-05:00

I used to lay on the sides of highways and watch the cars blur by me.
Laying in the in-between. Just observing.

There was a certain point I realized that life moves just as fast as the movie montages.
That flashes of moments standing by those you love are exactly what they seem. Short bursts of beauty.

A great sadness overcomes me when I drive those same highways I used to walk. Sometimes seeing my former self, for just a split second. Waving to me from oblivion.

I'm moving much faster now than I ever could have imagined then, and yet somehow I long for the never-ending summer days.

I long for the days where I used to be able to willfully love someone or something unconditionally. I long for fruit flavored popsicles and long walks along glass-ridden shores. I miss not being afraid of anything, and not constantly thinking my friends deserve better.

The great stretches of asphalt and street lamps, are my past-self's safe haven. And while I may visit him sometimes, I know that I'm someone else now.

My family is all there now. Much younger, all smiling. Waving to me, for just a split second. I'm sorry that life...

The only excuse I can whisper in their direction. I'm sorry that life had to be this way. That I'll never be what you needed, that you're all equipped with the same devices to feel as I am.

But it does and it is.

Hello, 2010.

Sleeping With The Fishes

2010-01-02T18:21:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I stare at blank screens.
For no reason really, other than that their calm unchanging nature is soothing.

People can be so turbulent sometimes... So harsh and distracting, it's hard to remember why I attempt to be with them.
But, of course like anything, there is good with the bad. Being a lonely misanthrope seems awesome when you're around idiots.
Once you're actually alone, it's not as glamorous. Trying to find that balance between getting lost in my book-ridden fantasy world, and the world outside my door is tough sometimes.

Years of this attitude has worn me down to accepting other people's shortcomings, while not forgetting my own. Being an elitist, pretentious bastard will only work for a certain period of time. Eventually, people call you a hypocrite and you feel like one, because you are one.

This random blather brought to you by: Breaking Writers Block Incorporated

underneath it all

2009-10-11T23:55:00.003-04:00

we are forever incomplete.

2009-10-11T23:53:00.000-04:00

Where'd you go?

Golden Ages of New York

2009-09-29T02:13:00.003-04:00

The rumble of the trains echoed along the dark, dank tunnels. The dirty, dusty tracks rattled and screeched in protest as the subway cars clanked their way along them. Their bodies marked with age and use. So many people, these trains have seen. Tall, short, homeless, affluent, black, white, fat, skinny. All different shapes, sizes and colors, going someplace, or no where at all.

I sat next to the doors on this train. This car held the old style, reminiscent of the golden ages of New York. Not littered with computer controlled LCD screens or bright white florescent tubes. Coated with a yellow dinge from time's pass. The letter Q etched into the glass on the window.

Quickly, Quietly, Quest, Quality, Quantity...

These trains hold a special place in my heart, the industrious place. Not the one with puppies, or valentines. But the place reserved for big old steel factories, foundries and industry. Booming business and busy workers. I am from the future, though my hindsight remains true. We were so naive back then, but aspired to greatness.

People riding together are always so interesting. Some try so hard to disregard one another. Others try and attract attention. Some stare off into the distance completely unaffected.

My gaze falls upon a beautiful girl. Probably not much older than I, her long brunette locks fall just past her shoulders. Her olive skin glistens with the slightest bit of summer sweat. Her brown eyes, pools of thoughtfulness as she reads Friedrich Nietzsche's Human, All Too Human.

I wonder if I should say something to her.

"Hey, is that Nietzsche?"
"Yeah... What does it look like? What are you, retarded?"...No.

"That's a great book..."
"Wow, and you're pretty creepy."...No.

"Hi, I'm..."
"Sorry, I've got a boyfriend."

I play a million scenarios in my head. Finally, I return my stare to the window. The passing concrete jungle in the distance. Apartment buildings, and businesses. People getting high. People kissing. People loving. People reading. People stealing and mugging. People plotting. People thinking.

I wonder if anybody is thinking about me, right now. Not me specifically, but me right now. The guy staring into the abyss of civilization. I wonder if they're thinking exactly what I'm thinking.

The train bells ding as the Conductors voice jubilantly exclaims "Avenue H!" I look out into Flatbush from the open subway door. It's low buildings, run down and historic. Time seems to have fallen away from me, as the Q makes it way down the alphabet of streets before it.

The beautiful girl arises from her seat quickly grabbing her things. Her eyes meet mine for a moment, and she smiles. I return a smile, as she passes to leave. It's the little things that make me happy in life. Smiles from a stranger, long train rides to think.

Finally, Kings Highway arrives and I step out of the crowded train. The orange glow of the street lights around me continue my reminiscence of an era I was barely alive for. As I walk the streets, I fall deeper into the arms of Brooklyn. It's people, it's atmosphere. For them, it was a place to live. But for me, it was a new discovery.

The old apartment building stood tall, on the end of a dead end street. The red glow of the end marker artifacting in my eyes. Twinkling as it warned. I made my way up the concrete steps, my feet scratching the chalkboard of concrete as I did. Time is the enemy, I pondered as I climbed those ancient steps. Exploring the temple of the domicile.

My friends were gathered on the roof, smoking cigarettes and taking photos of the skyline.

"Oi, What took you so long?"

"Nice to see you too, Asshole." I replied with a laugh.

The roof door slammed behind me as I joined them with a metal clank. I grabbed a cigarette from the pack and lit it.
I took a long drag. The smoke seemed to join the clouds as it left me. In the falling light of dusk, the skyline was breathtaking. The buildings painted with bright goldenrod and deep purple. A rainbow sherbet splattered across the sky.

The cameras clicked and snapped at the skyline. Hoping to catch the rays of sunlight before they collapsed into the earth once again.

I heard the roof door clank shut behind me.

I turned around to see the beautiful girl and her friends. Carrying a bottle of liquor, and laughing.

Only in New York, I thought to myself.

Discovery

2009-09-10T20:32:00.004-04:00

The cool fall breeze spread across my skin sending a shiver down up my body.

Dusk is my favorite time of day. The light of the day recedes into the earth, kind of like someone slowly turning a dimmer switch on the world. Everything becomes a silhouette, leaning up against the fading orange, blue and purple. Birds become just shadows, swooping back and forth across the sky. I feel at home in dusk, in night. There I'm no one in particular, I'm a just another lonely shadow. And I love it.

I stood in the dim light of the fading sun. I stood there at the edge of the water, staring down as I did. A flock of geese bobbed up and down on the wavy water. They were just outlines, floating on a sea of black. The wind bristled the leaves of the trees nearby, conducting a symphony with their small bodies. The drop down to the water from my plateau was littered with rocks and trees. It was an beautiful sight.

I shifted my gaze down to my shoes. "Am I really standing here?" I thought to myself.

It seems stupid to ask such a question, but the honest truth is that in that moment, I couldn't be sure. It was surreal.

For what seemed like hours, I stood there. Just staring. Staring without being judged or condescended. I was completely disconnected from everyone and everything. The moment felt amazing. Feeling fulfilled I walked over to my blue sport-bike and mounted it. I followed the trail back across the plateau. My bike tires crunched against the gravel path, clashing with the Wind's symphony.

A plane passed overhead, it's engines roared from high in the sky. It was life in stereo, multicolored and brilliant.

In the distance, I could see silhouettes of people. Their bodies locked together in passion, fiercely kissing each other. They stood in my path, completely unaware of my presence. As I approached, I could see the details in their silhouettes.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, resting upon his broad shoulders. Her was hair being blown all over by the playful wind. His strong tall body was standing to shield her from the wind.

I started to pick up speed, as they left the foreground of my thoughts. I heard a voice cry out.

"James? Is that you?"

I slid my bike to a halt, and turned around.

Her deep green eyes pierced mine, even in the low light. Suddenly, my silhouette had shattered into pieces.
"Hey Amy. Didn't realize it was you. How are you?"

Her full lips seemed to caress each word as she spoke.
"I'm good. You remember my boyfriend Tom, don't you?"

"Of course." I extended my hand to him.
His large hand grasped mine firmly, lingering for just a moment.

I stared into her eyes. I was taking a trip, right there in front of them. I traveled back into the past.

I remembered the first time I stared into them. I was pretending to read outside of school.
She caught me staring and demanded to know what I was staring at. I apologized, and stammered nervously.
She laughed and asked what I was reading.

I remembered when she told me she loved me.

"Oh, James.. I adore you so."
Her full lips seemed to caress each word as she spoke.

"You're so beautiful, Amy. I get lost in your eyes."
Those pools of green, where my stares had fallen so many times.
Within them, time stops. Moments linger and memories are vivid.

"I-I love you, James."
Must've been the only time I had ever heard her unsure of herself.

"I love you too, Amy. Indescribably so."

And when she took it back.

"I'm sorry, James. I'm so sorry."
Her green eyes were leaking tears. Streams of water running down her smooth skin.

"I love you, but I'm just not in love with you anymore. I can't fake it anymore."
Her words were like daggers in that moment.

I remember the sound of the car door slam as she left me. I remember how it smelled,
how the brisk fall air stung my nostrils. I remember that moment so vividly.

And I returned.

"Well, I've got to go. Nice to see you again."

"It was. Goodbye." She smiled. He gave me a slight wave.

I smiled, and turned away from them.

I mounted my trusty blue sport bike again. I listened to the symphony of the leaves.
The gravel crunching underneath my bike tires. I returned to play in the world of silhouettes and
undefined beings. I shoved myself forward and pedaled hard.

"I can fake it. I will always fake it."
I whispered to no one at all.

2009-06-08T22:47:00.007-04:00

The silver rim of the shift knob sparkled in the dome light.

My engine purred expectantly. It was beautiful night within the city limits.
The apartment buildings stood like complacent peacefulness.

The line of white power across my dashboard was so appetizing. Completely irresistible.
I remember distinctly, (Oh so distinctly) the way the tiny glass tubes clanked as I returned their brother to them.

The white line stood out against my cars dark, black, soulless interior.
(Soulless or soulful? It's so hard to tell.)

I fingered the straw nervously. I remember my stomach flip flopping so many times.
"There's no turning back from this now."
I kept telling myself that. Every one of our races, I did.

The other racers were in their cars around me... Preparing, as they called it.
Each one repeating a ritual we do, every month.
Preparing to completely wreck our zen with adrenaline and insanity.

We were fucking invincible. Our team, our people. Completely bulletproof.

I breathed in deeply, my nostrils burned as the powder made it's home.

Instantly, I felt better about being me. I was fucking ready. (Oh, so ready.)

I opened my windows, and looked out to my friends turned enemies.
They looked back into my eyes defiantly, ready to face what was coming.

I checked all of my gauges, their red and white glow happily reporting acceptable numbers.
Try saying that three times fast, huh?

We were all slaves to our poisons, some different and some the same. But the one, the one we all
truly had in common was adrenaline. Was succumbing to the ultimate kinetic rage that lies within
us all.

My engine roared as I pressed my accelerator pedal. The other cars responded loudly.
During a race.. a real race, no one is anything but a car. You become one with the
machine you're strapped to. You put your life in it's hands, and your own.

How many fucking people can say that they held their own life, and survived? Not many.

The second line of white powder hit me harder than the first. My face immediately grew a smile.
A smile that was pinned to my jaw like a fucking clown man. A mother fucking clown.
The only way to get to to go away would've been to rip it off.

I wasn't myself, I wasn't anyone at all.

The glow of my gauges was intoxicating. It was beautiful.
In what felt like an eternity, time past. Our launch-man held up his arms, and pointed at me.
My smile raged on, raged at him. Hit him in his bony fucking face.

Our five cars in unison tore apart the quiet night with banshee tires screeching as we took off.
Our cars were so fast, so fucking fast. The engines chugged down fuel as they rocketed us to the far side
of one hundred and forty miles an hour.

We weaved patterns in the road, amazing, stupefying patterns in the road. They must've been
mesmerizing from the sky, as we merged and separated. Twisted and swung.

The adrenaline crept up my body like a new set of skin. Goosebumps formed on my arms,
my body was enjoying the moment. I was enjoying the moment.

Fight or flight? Fucking flight baby. Fucking flight.

I was so high, I don't think I saw the blue and red lights behind us at first. They pierced the otherwise dark road.
They threatened to ruin our fun. Our game.

"Fuck you, pigs. See if you can catch us." My radio said to my empty car.
Or well, I was in it. I think.

One of our members pulled off. The white car found it's place at the side of the road. I remember watching him let go of the moment. Seeing his face flash in front of me, almost to say...
"Stop, stop before it's too late."

Though, there really was no one there to hear it.

I pushed my accelerator pedal to the floor. The decision is a memory I'll never forget. It was solidifying what I was going to do next. It was the beginning of the end of the beginning, like the Smashing Pumpkins song.

The Nine Inch Nails song that was blasting out of my stereo had intensified, and was I was feeling the music guide my motions. The police car swung towards mine, and in a swift motion I downshifted and shot ahead of him.

My car outpaced his tenfold, and I was so sure my driving skills would to.

"Too fucked up to care anymore, Poisoned to my rotten core" screamed Trent Reznor.

Somewhat Damaged, that's what I was. Trent really knows how to write some good music, I can say that even today.
If you're going to run from the cops, Nine Inch Nails is the way to do it.

The other cruisers had appeared around us now. The chase was evolving and the moment intensifying with every second.

My conscious mind was ruined, my subconscious mind wanted me to keep pushing this envelope further and further.

I remember seeing the straight away. I let my car do the talking, and tore away from the group. My speedometer had pinned itself at one hundred and sixty miles an hour, though I knew I was going far faster than that.

A photograph, still imprinted into my brain. (Do not exceed the mechanical limits of this vehicle. Serious damage, injury or death may occur.) Who the fuck ever listens to those anyway?

My straight away ended in an abrupt turn I could never have been ready for. All the coke in the world couldn't have prepared me to stop. Even slow down.

The concrete was so soft. Oh, so soft.
Oh, so mother fucking soft.

Touch Me, Feel Me

2009-05-08T01:10:00.002-04:00

I sympathize with the hero.

Always, mainly because the hero of the story deserves the audience's attention. The hero is always good, honest and ballsy.
The hero is quite interesting, as a figure. Never a flawed character, but always one.

I'm not a hero.

In fact, I'm less or more than a villain. I use less or more rather then better, simply because less or more is less subjective. It's less relative, and more vocational than anything else.

My judgement is quite flawed, and my tattered history can flip flop me both ways.

You're right. The minutes I waste trying to sleep, the hours I spend being harassed by my own subconscious.. the spiders.. Oh the spiders. They're all there, making me less of a hero.

I sympathize, but do not empathize.

Those people all know nothing about me, and yet my villain spirit lives with them daily. A Mercenary, so to speak. Though, my contact is never with my targets. I know them intimately, less of a cat and mouse game.. more of a real life story.

Or a story, of someone who will always be intangible.

I heard one of them speak once. A reconnaissance call ended up becoming quite an experience. My team members gave me odd looks as I went on about favorite bands and New York City. When I finished, and put my phone down.. I did not speak, did not show any emotion what so ever. I just said to them, "Do what you need to do."

I suppose that makes me the villain doesn't it? I'm just doing what I need to do. Answering to no one, not even clients.

It is my firm philosophy that the world operates solely in it's own underground. Being apart of the ever decaying society that is the underground, I've learned to hate it.

But it is the perfect active metaphor for our lives, is it not? Beneath each and every one of our crust of thoughts, lies the molten violent core. Deceiving and wrong. Brutal and beautiful.

Not many people cite the human nature that I love so much as beautiful. But I do. I've fallen in love with our corruptivity, so to speak. That's a word I constructed on my own.

Corruptivity, truly is the potential to be corrupted in measurable form.

It'll be in the dictionaries one day, I can assure you.

When the spiders return, to gnaw at the structured morals of my decaying intelligence. I will fall, inevitably.

And if I have to bring the whole world crashing on top of me, I will happily die the death that Atlas deserved. Suffocating under the corrupted values of our fallen fathers. Sleeping underneath the rubble of society.

You're right, I am a fucking villain. And you could be the next person who feels my intangible touch. If your assailant pays me enough that is.

2009-05-07T20:18:00.002-04:00

The screech of the rubber sliding across the slick asphalt was music to my ears. It was the serenity of the seconds in the moment. Screeeeeech. Seconds seem to pass as I saw the headlights coming closer and closer.

I watched it unfold in the most beautiful way.

The look of surprised horror on his face. I almost wanted to say, don't be afraid my friend. You'll be just fine. Though, he wouldn't hear me if I tried. The plastic collided with the plastic, and the aluminum with the aluminum. The glass from my window shattered and flew into my waving hair.

The entire moment was poetic really. The words leading up to the explosion of the moment. Crunching and crushing cars. My music was loud, but I could no longer hear it. The airbags turned my car into a great pillow castle. My body bouncing back and forth as I tumbled and spun within my car.

I saw them coming. The large wooden obstacles strewn across my path. And as they approached, I did not scream or cry... I laughed. I laughed heartily and without remorse. I laughed right in the face of death, because it no longer phases me.

The crushing blow of a wooden spike at fifty miles an hour pierced my chest, and seat. Pinning me to this car forever. My vehicle finally came to rest. Ironically, right side up. My collapsed lung and severed arteries told me I had as much time as the length of my accident.

I choked and laughed again. The scene was quite beautiful in a horrific manner. The adrenaline was keeping the tsunami of pain from swallowing my consciousness. Ironically, draining me of blood faster.

My memories took me on a final tour of my life. The faces of the people who loved and cared for me. The sadness I'd have to leave them behind. I could hear the voice of the horrified man. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

I laughed with him. "Fine brother. No worries." My body began to choke on my deoxygenated blood. "I've never died before, it's been quite an experience." As parts of my brain fluttered with confusion and breakdown, I smiled.

"It might be the last time I ever smile, or ever do anything. Might as well go out with a positive force, if however slight." I thought to myself.

A positive force.

Positive force.

The sparkling blue stars began to fall into my moment. This was my moment, the final one in a lifetime of them. Blue stars sparkled on the distressed man's face. Speckled across my dusty dashboard and muddy broken car. Brightened my fading vision of the world for one last time. One last second.

I breathed in, to pain and suffering. The air escaped from my lungs slowly, caressing each cell as it did. And I did something, I've always wanted to end with. I sighed. I sighed a sigh of relief.

A sigh of contentment.

A

ghostly

sigh

of

freedom.

Spiders and Pills

2009-05-04T00:46:00.002-04:00

The old wooden garage door moaned and clanked as it ascended. It kept mumbling about how the elderly shouldn't be treated this way, and how he always has to do all the work. The warm air from the garage wrapped around me as the portal opened pushing the cool night air away.

The earth spins slowly.

Night time here is always painfully serene, crickets chirping and raindrops falling. The humming of the peaceful orange street lamps, the perfect undertone. The world doesn't notice me there, waiting to enter my home. The world doesn't notice me here, waiting to enter my home.

My world spins slowly.

As I step into the open mouth of my garage, a dark cavern of modern culture. The crumbled rocks dance across the floor as my feet interact with them. The garage door moans once again, as it descends back to it's resting place.

My hands grip the golden door knob connecting my cavern to my room. The spiders crawl out from the doorknob. Dancing their way all over my body, infesting my skin and nerves. I can see my reflection in the golden spherical knob, it bends and stretches and screams. It spins, slowly.

I still am waiting here, in front of this spinning knob. Waiting for the door to open.
With the spiders.
And the garage door.
And the crickets, and the raindrops.
And the street lamps.
And the world.

Blood and Glass

2009-04-14T13:46:00.005-04:00

Their voices carried my mind away.

Discussing ailments of the body, of the mind. Physiologic disorders and of possible diagnosis.

I slept a sleep of an ugly mind and tired body. Underneath the inactivity of conscious, my subconscious raged and ravaged the land of my conscious mind.

My conscious used to be the master of my world. Strong, prolific and structured. I remember the days when I slept well.

I remember those days when my consciousness did not need to be stolen from me. It waned voluntarily, not afraid to let the night shift take over...

The room was beautifully lit. Chandeliers full of flickering flames hung from the ceiling, hung with thousands of pieces of glass, in every imaginable shape. The mahogany table was littered with the remains of paints and crayons. Scribbled on pieces of paper lain strewn about the table and the floor.

The ceilings of the room were not ceilings at all, but storm clouds flowing and swirling above my head. The candles immediately were extinguished with a gust of wind. And suddenly the room was chaotic, violent. The papers swirled and flew, brushing against my face and body.

The papers all had the same thing, written hundreds of times on them. In as many formats imaginable, there was my name. My name swirled around me. My hair flew back and forth within the wind. The glass of the now suspended chandeliers chattered and spoke to me in the language of glass.

The moment was oddly calming, standing in the stormy room. The wind began to whip wildly and pushed me to my knees. The chandelier's glass started to shatter. Bit my bit the fragments of glass pierced my face and body. Like a symphony of raindrops, directed by the wind.

I started to scream. Started to pierce the violent wordlessness of the wind with my voice. With each passing second my blood, arteries, body filled with glass. My eyes shimmered with blood and glass.

I saw myself standing there, in agony and confusion. Bloody and alone.

The wind was gone now.

My screams echoed within the high ceilings of the room. The chandeliers hung complacently, completely at rest. Their glass pieces now missing, candles extinguished. Only their bare metal frames remained. Mockingly as I fell to the floor.

Dying, dead. Gone.

They had survived and I had not.

"WAKE UP!"

My eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. Her green eyes looked into mine, uneasily. I searched for boundaries, completing my sanity self check, I replied.

"What is it, Monkey Face?"

"You were screaming again, James. It was scary. I couldn't wake you up. Are you okay? What were you dreaming about?"

"I don't remember, my love. I'm sorry."

She seemed to search my face for truth, but found none.

"It's okay. Just try and get some sleep, okay?"

"I love you." I whispered as I kissed her forehead.

"I love you, too." She replied and smiled.

And off I drifted again.

2009-03-23T17:54:00.003-04:00

march on little soldiers

you can have my rations
my alcohol hidden in the water bottle i carry
my gun
my shoes
and my clothes

i wish to die possessionless and alone

just as i was alive

in death i will not be obligated to march
nor stand at attention
not staring into the sun's bright glare
across the mountains and buildings

i will never again be forced to stand straight
when i just want to sit

never be forced to forego my rest
for the sake of experiencing the night

walking through the gauntlet of sleepless business women and men
marching through bullets piercing my persona
of mistrust and betrayal

no longer will i sleep awake
soullessly walk

march on little soldiers

and fulfill your destiny without me

2009-03-23T17:48:00.002-04:00

i am my solitary manifestation of insecurity.

every moment that passes that I am unguarded by my own built defense mechanisms i cringe due to the exposure

i am simply everything i'm not

i am my sense of overwhelming innocence
i am my fake sense of childhood

i am closeted
i am scared
i am lonely
it's my fault

i am a sleeping dormant adult
and no one at all

i am the insomniac without a cause
and a dream without a mind

i am my overwhelming sense of boredom with the world
with myself
with everything and everyone

so predictably softly hard
i'm not

me? i'm not

i'll be a child all my life
suppose i'm doomed to it after all
predestined by whatever in my life
the root causes not significant enough to matter

books

2009-02-22T00:20:00.002-05:00

intertwined words, phrases, stories
with characters, individuals that roam
my mind, on their misadventures
trying to save the world
my world
their world

i lose myself inside them
every minute i can
forget who, what and where i am

until nothing exists but the story
the plot, the climax

tunnel vision, ignorant to my world
and it's characters, individuals that roam
my life, on their misadventures
trying to save the world
my world
their world

doesn't make much sense.

2009-02-16T22:03:00.002-05:00

they say that the keys to the subconscious lie in the inner-workings of our mind.
somewhere, in between the battered cabinets, doors, hallways and skylights...
there lies the key to finding yourself.
a key you are destined never to find, but try endlessly searching for it
underneath the couch pillows of your life, stuck with quarters and candy
destined to be seen by only those who choose to look in the most obvious of places

they say that somewhere
someplace
you and I aren't

they say that somewhere
we're
different, you and I

aren't oblivious

oblivious to the locked doors in our minds
oblivious to the fact that we're much deeper and different than we seem on the outside

and much less, more or less

ambiguously together for reasons beyond reason itself
it seems as though

i dream of the day where

i am someone.

more than just ambiguously living among the dead
residing and complaining
vicariously

i live through the living

When You're Gone

2009-02-15T04:50:00.003-05:00

I am my own inevitable loneliness, standing right beside myself.

When you're gone,
it just won't be the same

Maybe not even worth it at all

When you're gone,
oh, how I dread when you're gone

Because I will be truly alone,
not just the figurative lonely lie I propose

I shake at the thought
And shudder and weep

When you're gone
the sun will not set quite the same
the moon will not shine as bright
the birds, trees and people will shun my existence
Unlike you

When you're gone
I will sleep no more
and my life will be a everlasting nightmare of what once was
memories turned coarse and mournful

Oh, how I miss you already
Oh, how my acid tears, my emotions
my searing rage cannot possibly express

My life is leaving
going far away
never to truly return to me

But don't worry, because I'm still left with this empty shell
which is good for nothing at all

Good for sleepless nights
and addiction to escape

Good truly and only for ending

The million ways I could say I love you
do not possibly encompass it enough

The trillion ways I could say I need you
just wouldn't be quite enough

Won't this nightmare end soon?

I have taken you for granted all this time
not properly savored the moments of your sweet presence
of your sweet skin
and bones
eyes and neck

I love you more than words can purely describe
through much more than anyone has experienced
much more than has ever been uttered before

and I shatter without you

i shatter and fall.

Bubble Bubble Toil Trouble

2009-02-13T16:51:00.004-05:00

I guess you could say it was inevitable.
I guess you could tell me that she was just a figment of my imagination,
I would force myself to believe it was true.

Your unconditional love, was riddled with hidden conditions and contracts...
And such turmoil rocks my very structure.
Your love is not as unique as I once thought,
given away to people for simple change it seems.

While you might have loved her and I, so to speak.
Then your love turns to dust before it caresses my skin.

And deeper into my own rabbit hole I fall.
I'm just a girl, just one person
Wishing I could be what you need
But would you really come back if I was?
If I am?

I would still give myself to you all over again,
Forgive and forget, as long as you still utter
softly into my ear that you love me
Always, forever

But the demon inside me, now lurks at the surface
And I fear I will succumb to it's strength over me
I have not much
Not very much at all to give
To a boy who dreams of the world, but knows nothing of it

A boy, formerly my boy
That could not grasp the reality of me
And I can no longer grasp your reality
Your every movement tantalizes me

Reminds me of what you once were

But what are you now, sweet prince?

You've broken your promise
And I've served my time
I've forgiven you, far more then you deserve
So many times, you've told me

It's only temporary
Only temporary
I don't really love her
love her
love her

I don't really need her
need her
need her

Then why do you still hold her and not me?
Succumb to her but not I?

You cannot face your truth, cannot face what you've sown
for yourself.
The words leave my tongue, burning it as they do

Do you love me?

Your eyes are pools of brown,
And they answer solemnly
Not anymore

But you do not
You no longer need to answer

And I am yours no more.

We're all dying.

2009-02-02T21:38:00.000-05:00

We're all dying.

I'm just doing it much quicker than normal. What is normal really though?
You could die while reading my story. Distracted by it's innards, completely oblivious to the tow truck barreling down your street. You could be dying right now.

We're all dying though. So don't feel too bad.

That's really how I ended up where I am now. In this hospital bed, ticking the moments away. Entertaining myself with thoughts similar to this one.

We're all dying.

They say my time to go is coming soon. The nurses and doctors come to visit me.
My responses to them remain the same as they were before. And their responses are equally as static. They are as cold and emotionally inane as I am.

My life has been fulfilling in an odd sense. Fulfilling in the way I truly wanted it to be. I write this truly in hope that someone will read my story. They will listen to the ramblings of my mind. Shitty metaphors and all. Maybe it will supply bearing to their life, or maybe it will end up as kindling. The last call before my death must be attempted, no matter how bleak the odds of it reaching someone.

My name is Baker, and this is my story.

(Baker's Intro. Book, Intro)

Discipline

2008-12-31T00:00:00.003-05:00

I need your discipline,
Your government to my anarchy.
I'm a fiend, a liar and a coward.
Itching for pupil dilation.

I need your help,
Flying solo isn't as easy with broken wings.

Leaves

2008-12-12T10:54:00.003-05:00

As the leaves fall all around me,
Spinning and fluttering

Destined to touch the earth,
But denying the inevitability until the end

Something so simple,
Yet extraordinarily hard to comprehend

I bask in the ideals of reality,
Sunlight feeding my dark seedlings

But despite the growing cynicism,
There is always room to float among the simplistic

Even for a moment,
Fulfill the child in me

And throw the leaves above my head,
Watch them twist and weave...

Making their way back down
Inevitably.

Beauty

2008-12-12T10:44:00.002-05:00

Deep within the confines of your mind,
Just below the surface of your skin

You cannot control yourself
You couldn't muster the strength to know yourself

Putting pressure in all the right places,
Sliding fingers around your hips

Your decision puts you into a very advantageous position
But that is your own delusion

You are most vulnerable when distracted by yourself
And before you know it,

You'll be laying in his bed again,
Wondering where the time went.

I can't believe it's not butter, spray

2008-11-22T14:12:00.002-05:00

I couldn't understand the compatibility between an intellectual and an idiot,
but responsibility changes your whole mentality.
And I'll wake up tomorrow and realize I've got my whole life to live
or maybe I won't

I'll sleep out in the doghouse as long as you're not there
It'll give me some time to think, about how this place could really use some curtains
so people won't see you walking around naked in the morning.

Even though you don't care,
even though our incompatibilities will always run rampant upon the peace

Something still holds me to you
I'll always come home, even if I've had the option to leave for forever

but once I'm home, I'll hate it

The fridge light burns my eyes,
it's close to empty, just like my box of patience

Maybe I'll just leave
Just walk out that door right now

And leave you with your doubts

But you look so good laying in that bed,
Reading a book you couldn't care about

Skin so tight around those bones
So real and yet so fake

But if you don't care, then I don't care

So I'll listen to you moan
Before I sleep
Sweetest lullaby for my instincts
Even if I know that's fake too.

November

2008-11-20T12:48:00.002-05:00

Some One: I'm sorry for my recent absence. I've been intwined in a lot of work. Struggling to find the time for blog posts. A goal is set to have my book published by mid-next year. I'll update when it's ready for pre-order.

november

sort of feels a bit emptier
since they buried you

it seems like just yesterday
i was standing in your living room
listening to you talk to me about your life
and how great it is

or was
just goes to show you
that life in

november

isnt the same as death in december.

photos of you

2008-10-10T10:10:00.004-04:00

i could stand here forever
basking in the immense glory of your presence
a spark and short circuit in my brain leaves me in an infinite loop of your face, eyes, body

maybe somehow
maybe someway

nose, lips, cheeks

we'll run into each other again

hair, legs, feet

perhaps i'll just stand here star-struck for a while
and take pictures i'll never be able to develop

it's a life of quiet dignity
a curse, because i won't forget as easily as the next
as the rest

i've seen great beauty in my lifetime
in so many more forms than I could describe
i still have the negatives in my mind

still pause upon them in awe
in appreciation that such elegance exists

the screensaver of my body
staring off into the bland distance

but painting it with grandeur only i can see.

Cheshire Cat

2008-09-14T17:00:00.002-04:00

I smile because I can see through you beautiful one.

I can see through to your corrupted thoughts, you wish no one to see.

I can see your dark desires, the urges of your subhuman mind.

Where you hide away those thoughts, is where I choose to dwell.
Escaping them, or me... it just isn't an option.

The futility of this moment is fleeting, because control is only lost for moments at a time.

My exploitation of these moments, will always hold true to that.

Hold true to you.

And until next time, I'll be here. Waiting, dwelling in the darkness.

Eulogy

2008-07-21T23:49:00.004-04:00

There was someone I knew for a short, but long time. Someone who was different, much different than any other person I've ever met. Not because she liked a certain kind of music, nor because she liked art. Not because she liked ice cream and french fries. Even though she did.

She made art out of life, out of luck, out of time.

Unlike myself, she was always running out of time. Running out of life, and never had any luck. And all of that shaped her, and ended up changing me too. She lived, like there was no tomorrow. Because for her, there might not be. Maybe that's only half true, but I'll explain that later on.

I first met Alex through a friend of mine, James. Crazy fellow, always known for breaking rules intelligently. Someone I admired. He'd talked about her like he admired her, and I felt I had to do the same. If James admired anyone, they had to be interesting.

I wasn't wrong.

When she stepped onto the train, I didn't believe it was her. She was dressed as if she was just working on Wall Street.
First words are sometimes a very good judgement of someone's character.

"So, who's this statue James?"

We ended up going to a racing meet that night. I didn't have a car to drive, just tagged along for the adrenaline. When James uncovered Alex's silver BMW Imported Twin Supercharged Silver X5, it was just as astonishing as her initial appearance.

"Re-built it myself."
"I'm impressed, Alex."
"You would be."

I'd driven with James before. A man who knew the limits of his car and his driving. Wrecklessly safe.

I decided I'd ride with Alex. A decision that would change my life.

It was the first time that I've ever had a conversation with someone at 130+ miles per hour, completely calm and regular. The first time that I've heard someone quote Niechtze while listening to a russian piano sonata, with their life coming so close to ending. But not. I grew to know that feeling, to love that feeling. I rode with Alex for at least two more race meets, and each time it was the same. She was able to outwit me in advanced conversation, without losing focus on keeping us from being wrapped around a tree.

It was poetic how she handled herself, how she drove, how she lived. Beautiful poetry. Vivd, deep and meaningful to those lucky enough to witness it.

I watched her stand up to guys that had cars far more powerful and maneuverable than her. And still come out ahead. Why?
Had she lacked the fear that plagues us all? Fear of death? No. That fear was greater in her, than in anyone else I've known.

One night, doing many times over the speed limit in upper New Jersey, she told me.

"I'm dying... Much faster than you. Or at least I hope so. For the first time in my life, I'm actually afraid."
"If you're afraid, then I'm much more afraid. Because you aren't afraid of anything. You're strong though. Much stronger than
anybody I've met. And smart as well. You can't go wrong either way."
"You are so naive sometimes."

It made sense, in an odd way. I didn't realize it at first.

She called me one night, quite late. She said she needed something, and that I should come up to meet her at New Paltz. It was a long drive, but I was willing to do it. Why? I guess it was because I felt urgency in it.

We in a parking lot next to the southbound Interstate. Me, in my beat up 92' Honda. Her in her amazing, new X5.

"Follow. And try and keep up, if you can... And Phil... Watch your back okay?"

That night we raced, and I pushed my car faster than I ever have and ever will again. I far exceeded it's recommended limits, the state's recommended limits, my life's recommended limits. Instead of letting the adrenaline take over my mind, I listened to piano sonatas, and mulled over existentialism.

Our paths intertwined all over that Interstate, flying at incredible speeds. So close to death and yet so alive. Unbelievably alive. Weaving in and out of unsuspecting road warriors, people stuck in monotone.

I was freed from the bounds of being afraid of death. I accepted my life for what it was. I accepted what little time I have, what little time we all have. We continued until I reached my home, almost over two hours.

We stopped in a field on the side of the road. We sat on the hood of her car. She hugged me.

"Thank you, Old friend. I feel like someone finally understands me. All I hear is how sorry everyone is. I wanted to live, that's all. And I have. Thank you for being my companion in that, thank you for risking your life all of those times. Thank you for everything."

I said this to her, and I'll say it again.

"Thank you Alex. Thank you for showing me that living like there is no tomorrow, really is so much better. Really is an amazing feeling. Thank you for not giving up hope, not until the very end. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for this trip, especially. And I'll miss you, deeply old friend."

She had an art out of living, out of savoring coming close, but missing. Savoring the terribly good luck that we all suffer from.

For Alex, never let moments slip away. Live, because you can and she can't.

I'll miss you. We all will.

Until we meet again, old friend.

White

2008-07-15T23:52:00.006-04:00

I lie back in your kitchen chair. It creaks from my weight, as I lean onto it's aluminum legs.
The sun is shining through your dusty window. The room is bright with whitewashed walls.
And you glimmer in your white dress. This white world is blinding me, but I remain blissful.
Your eyes reflect the bright light into mine. Destroying my thoughts and erasing my memory,
with pure beauty.

I sit motionless, staring at you as you smile back at me. You love your power over me,
you love my defenselessness. I can't help but love it too... I can't help but love you.
Your long hair moves as you slide open the dingy window. The light intensifies,
until you turn from white to shimmering golden.

Your smooth skin beckons my touch, and I cannot resist the urge. And arise from my chair,
in one swift motion you are in my arms. Our lips dancing to the serenade of the moment.
Something inside me, somewhere tells me that it's okay. The eternal sunshine of my spotless
mind, that's what you are. That's what you'll always be.

Who am I? I don't care. Where am I? I don't care. Why am I here? Even in my deep amnesia
I know. My fingers touch my reason for being here, my lips touch her too. I can't help
but lose myself in you.

"My greatest apologies madam. But who am I?"
"You are mine, and that's all you need to know."

You move out of my embrace, and spin yourself around. Your dress spins up, and so
does your hair. You pause for a moment, and everything begins to spin. In my head,
in my eyes. My world spins around me.

I fall onto your cold white tile floor. My body is deeply numb. You run to me,
and start to scream. But I can't help but smile, and touch your face one last time.

"What is better than love's bliss in death? Surely nothing."

Everything fades to white, and then to black.

"If there is ever an image I want burned into my eyelids, into my timeless memory, the last image I'll ever see, it is of your face. You are too beautiful for words. Too beautiful for me."

deaf

2008-07-15T23:52:00.001-04:00

I've always dreamt in silence.

I've always wished the world had a mute button.

Hidden on this universal remote.

But not for the sounds of the crashing ocean,
The sounds of moving cars,
The sounds of trees bristling in the wind,
Nor of animals calling.

Just the voices of all of the people.

I never want to hear my name called again,
Never want to hear the chitter chatter of the worlds inhabitants.
Never want to fucking touch another person.
Or see their emotions dripping off their face.
I know I'll be able to alienate myself when I'm deaf of your sounds.

I'll never have to worry about broken understanding
Never have to hear your voice call out to me again.
Never never never.

I don't want this man I'm attached to,
All I've ever wanted to be,
Was cold and unaffected.

Naked

2008-07-02T00:51:00.002-04:00

No One has returned for a guest article.

I've come to an epiphany. I've come to a great realization.
I've found out something I've known all along. I just had
to make it official and real.

The truth is, it's unbelievable how much we toy with our imaginations.
People who understand this are so much better off than people who try
to hide it.

Mostly because, there is only so long you can hold something like that in.
Without showing cracks of what's actually going on in your head.
Open your windows would you? Let some light into that dusty imagination.

Imagine everyone naked, it's much more entertaining on a day to day basis,
and it'll help you feel more comfortable around new people.

Never forget, that we're all sluts and fucks. Even if it's only in our heads.
When has that never counted? Embrace it within reason, and you could never be wrong.

Break down those walls, and shake your butts. Why not after all?
What have you got to lose? A reputation? In the end,
Life's short, and sweet if you know what rocks to look under.

I've spent too much time mulling over my projected image as a person, and not enough time doing things.
Don't make the same mistake.

After all, what have you got to lose if everybody is already naked? ;)

Food for thought I guess.

2008-07-02T00:49:00.002-04:00

i guess i've sealed my own fate.

karma has a funny way of coming full circle eventually.

maybe i'm being vain.

i can't help but think i do deserve it.

maybe i've forgotten why.

it'll come to me eventually.

fade from your life

2008-07-02T00:48:00.001-04:00

all those sleepless hours,
laying in bed,
have got you no where.

your ideas are all trapped in your head.
with no place to go,
but into tainted oblivion.

take another swig baby,
and let those bad memories
fade from your third eye.

let them flow out,
like blood from a sliced vein,
splashing out onto paper,
leaving deep red stains,

take another swig baby,
maybe they'll finally find their way
to your fingertips.

you think you're made of steel
when you're really made of glass

they can't see you like i do,
they are all trapped in their own metaphor
scratching on the glass of the windows to their heads

wishing somebody would take a peek
or a picture

take another swig baby,
and let those bad memories,
fade from your dreams

fade from your life

games

2008-07-02T00:40:00.001-04:00

the world plays games.
it's a little known fact,
but a heavily experienced one.

should you give up hope?
not in the least.
just give up hoping for what you hope for.

hope for that which you will never have,
and obtain what you wanted all along.

maybe i'm crazy,
but lucky too.
lucky to be unlucky.

i enjoy the ironic game i play.
i guess i'm shooting for an impossible score.
or maybe i'll get just what i'm after, after all.

Outlines

2008-06-22T22:58:00.002-04:00

I can still see your eyes through the hair in front of your face. The beautiful windows into your mind, that I could lose myself in without even realizing it.
The skin on your shoulders is soft and smooth. My fingers dance along your body, hugging your curves, accenting your beauty with an outline.
Your hair falls away and exposes your cheek. My lips find their way to your face. Slowly caressing your neck and along your shoulders.
"There are too many places to kiss, and I've only got one pair of lips." I quietly whisper in your ear. My lips find their way to yours. They are luscious and full.
Your beauty is deadly. My fingers run along your neck, down your shoulder, slipping off one of your spaghetti straps as they travel. "Hi there." You sultrily say.
"Hello beautiful." I reply.
Lovers we remain, in the simplicity of the moment. You cause the world to stop,
with just the raise of your hand.
I cannot help but want to touch every inch of your body.

My alarm clock always steals away these incredible dreams.

Sullen Boy

2008-06-22T22:57:00.000-04:00

I open my eyes to the sight of my own ceiling. My cell phones happy alarm chime mocks me. It's chime always yanks me from this place, I'd never like to leave.
Dream or otherwise. I kick off my blankets, and swing over to the side of my bed. I place my glasses upon my face, and the world around me comes into focus.
My room is messy. Shoes strewn about the floor around my bed. Cables hanging everywhere. Clothes littering the ground. My apathy towards this local cleanliness
has never benefited me. But it's kept unnecessary stress from me. At least that's my justification. The ground is cold on my bare feet, despite the summer heat that had crept
into my room during the night. I enter my bright bathroom, my eyes ache. Still not accustomed to this world again. As I brush my teeth, I'm still running the images through my mind.
I open the maple wardrobe in my corner to pick something to wear. My face stares back at me in the mirror.

I slip on some clothes and walk up the iron spiral staircase. Light from the morning sun penetrates the windows of the main floor. The mahogany colored walls covered with
pictures of my past. They remind me of the family I used to have, before everything changed. I pour myself a bowl of Cheerios, and open the fridge. A tiny bit of milk remains,
possibly just enough for that small bowl. I finish my cereal, and place the bowl into the almost full sink. I check myself once more in my mirror, and then exit my home. My dark blue
car waits for me patiently. I open the door, and get in. The ecstasy of my dream visits me once more, and I pause for a moment. Just trying to remember what I'm doing in here.
Driving to work. Right. My car starts up happily, just like every other morning.

The road is a place where I truly feel like I belong. The anonymity and irrelevance is incredibly freeing. I spend hours in my car, but I don't dread the trip. I enjoy it.
My arrival at work, is awkward and slow. As it usually is. I walk with my head down to avoid having to say hello to my co-workers. My shyness has always kept me safe
from moments like that in the past. My workday drags a long, monotonously, as each day does.

I leave the building, and look up into the vast sky. It is a deep gray. Moisture looms in the air, clinging to my skin. My limbs feel heavy on my slow walk back to my car.
My car returns to life happily. I slide it into reverse, and pull out of my parking spot. My car rolls forward, and away I go.

My car quickly accelerates onto the highway. Immediately I'm immersed in the music coming out of my car's stereo. It covers me, covers my skin, wraps my body in a blanket
of vibration. Goosebumps form on my arms as the adrenaline of the moment captures me. Courses through my veins. Circulating through my body with extreme speed.

The purple and red dashboard lights of my car blur as I lose myself. I breathe deeply, slowly. Forgetting about my monotone job, my monotone apartment, my monotone life.

I open my eyes, slowly. Warm liquid flows down my face, covering my clothes, covering my body. Immersing me, it it's waning usefulness. That's okay, I think to myself.
I don't need you anymore anyway. The cold steel crushes the life from me. My lungs cannot take this great weight upon my body. Finally, a worthy metaphor.

Through the red veil over my eyes, I peer up through my cracked sunroof. The sun shines through. It's warmth reminds me of the beautiful world above my head.
I'll miss that warmth.

Relax

2008-06-22T21:49:00.004-04:00

Look up when you walk
Because there is so much to see above our heads
So much to get lost in

We're always so wrapped up in our lives
Sometimes we forget to step back
And enjoy the sky

Look up when it rains
Let the rain drops roll down your face
Smear your make up
Melt off your mask

We're always so wrapped up in our lives
Sometimes we forget to step back
And enjoy the sky

Let it take you away
Far far away
Just for a moment or two
Relax

Costume

2008-06-22T21:49:00.001-04:00

All of those people stepping into freedom
With masks and fabric and paint
Hiding themselves, or are they?
Showing the world they aren't afraid
To pretend and imagine
To laugh and be themselves
It's here personalities flourish
It's here inhibitions lie discarded on the floor
It's wonderful here

It shouldn't have to end so early
Life should always be this way

Maybe it can be

You shouldn't be afraid anymore

I'm in here.

2008-06-11T18:35:00.003-04:00

The humid air feels like sludge wrapped around my body.
It feels thick in my lungs. Sweat clings to my eyebrows as I peer up into the bright day.
The sun is on it's decent from the sky, after a long day of feeding plants and burning skin.
I wipe my forehead, and step down from my front porch. My brown leather sandals crunch
as I walk on the cracked old sidewalk. The plants on my block are flourishing in the rich summer.
They're beautiful, comforting and serene. They remind me just how beautiful silence is.

A small silver car drives past me on my block. I've always loved the way cars make that
whoosh sound as they pass by. It reminds me of growing up. Sometimes I would sneak
out after my parents had fallen asleep. I would walk down to the interstate. I would use
the hole in the fence, right by the yellow pedestrian sign. I would sit in the cool grass
by that road. And I would watch and listen. Whoosh.

My block is one of those stereotypical small town blocks. Cars passing through are seldom,
due to the fact we we're adjacent to a main street. My blonde haired neighbor smiles and waves.
I muster a feeble smile back. I think about when I first moved here. My mom saying "That woman
looks like she's drugged up on something." I remember the way my room smelled when I first
moved in. I remember feeling so much like I didn't belong. I remember my long walks alone,
late at night. Smoking cigarettes, and befriending the darkness of the night. I remember
the streetlight that I would sit under, near the abandoned building. The way it blinked, on those
cool nights.

Even though the day is almost over. The night has yet to come. I look forward to the night.
It's my safe haven. Somewhere I've always sought refuge from the events of the day. I cross
the torn up street and walk under the cement underpass. The cool shade it brings feels good.
A man in a orange reflective vest salutes me as I walk through the construction site. I salute
him back. Finally a greeting I can return without feeling awkward. The pieces of the destroyed
building litter the yard. Like a battle scarred solider, the building still stands in part. Refusing
to succumb to the efforts of the tireless workers assigned to destroy it.

I enjoy the poetry and simplicity of this scene as I move through it. At the edge of the construction
site there is a small fence. I remove my sandals and throw them over it. I scale the fence with ease,
despite my feet being unshielded. I slip my old sandals back onto my now dirty feet. I walk through
the lush green grass. The blades of grass tickle my dirty feet. The sun now golden orange, begins to
fade into the horizon. Light collapsing into the earth, to bide until the moon takes it's rightful place
high in the sky. I part the low hanging branches of the weeping willow, and enter the amazing
room it creates. The golden light of the sun barely penetrates this beautiful place. But just enough
to remind me that the sun is still there. Looking for me, wondering where I escaped to.

The boughs of the willow are thick, leafy and green. They keep the room they shield a secret.
My secret. My sanctuary. The room is lined with the vivid pink pedals from the willow. Like fallen
children they lay, their time has come and passed. The cool air wraps around me like a blanket,
cleaning off the sludge of humidity. I walk deeper towards the center of this great keep. I run my
fingers down the rough bark of the willow. I lean against it's trunk, and slide to the ground.
My sandals fall from my feet, and onto the dirt. The ground feels cool against my body,
as I am cradled by the tree. A breeze lightly blows the branches of the willow, their light conversation
lulls me to sleep.

My dreams are sometimes more vivid than reality. Sometimes I am trapped under great weight.
Sometimes I am attacked by poisonous beings, trying to still the life I hold on to. Sometimes
I am falling. From great heights, hurtling towards death with unimaginable speed. Sometimes I
don't dream. I cherish those moments of limbo. Those moments of blankness keep me safe. But my
dreams in this place are not terror, or fear. They are not death or loss. They are of my warm bed
during the winter. They are of my family and friends. I cherish these dreams more than my blank
lonely ones. They are of my dreams, they are of my acceptance of life.

I awaken to the same lullaby that I fell asleep to. The light bristling of the branches in the breeze.
There is very little light left under the willow. It has changed from golden orange to the deep blue
before nightfall. I feel refreshed, I feel reenergized, I feel alive again. I slip my sandals back onto my
dirty feet. I stand and feel the blood flow through my body. I spend a moment, and breath deeply.
"Good bye." I whisper, for no one but my keep to hear. I part the branches in the same place I entered.
I step out of my keep.

I turn for just a moment, looking at the great Willow one last time. This will be the last time I will
visit my sanctuary. The last time I will dream peacefully, knowing that I'm sheltered by the willow.
I'm reminded of when I moved from my first house. I'm reminded of the way I cried, and pleaded
with my parents to stay. I'm reminded of the way I still visit that place, because I know I left a piece
of myself there. That's just the way I am. I know I'll miss it.

The grass tickles my dirty feet the same way as before. The humidity has depleted from the air,
it is more comfortable than before. I hear something from inside the willow. I turn around quickly,
afraid at first. Then calm. Staring back at me, is myself. Just a shadow really, except for my eyes.

"Hey." I say, and salute.
I salute back, and nod.
"I'm in here." I say.
"I know." I reply.
"I'll miss you, dude." I say.
"I'll miss you too. Be good." I reply.
"You too. Don't forget, Okay?" I say.
"Ok." I reply.

I watch as the outline of my eyes fade back behind the branches. I turn back towards the chain link fence.
It's clinking and clanking is friendly in the falling light. The battlefield is quiet, it's combatants home with
their families. Done for today. The building has survived another day. I salute the building, in honor of my
own metaphor. The tunnel of the overpass is dark in the evening light. I walk slower through it to avoid
tripping on anything.

My stereotypical small town block is just as I left it. The houses have their living room lights on. Families
eating dinner together, talking about their days. What they did, how they feel. Eating the spaghetti
and meatballs, american style. Small town style. My brown leather sandals crunch on the old sidewalk.
A sidewalk traveled by many, but one that I would never travel again. I reach my front path quickly,
even though I was savoring my walk home. Tomorrow I'll leave, and never plan to come back. I'm happy
to move on though. I'm happy that I'll be able to make new memories, and find a new sanctuary.

But I'm never going to forget that one. Never going to forget the piece of myself that I left there.
"I'm in here."

I am slanted.

2008-06-11T18:09:00.002-04:00

And you are too.
As the facts of life are about true, then we're all a little bit slanted.
We've all got that deep dark side.

It's naivety to believe that anybody is pure.
The molten hot seam between the two is incredible.

Too many people dance upon that seam, trying to find a balance.

And others, fall victim to each of it's sides. Both equally deplorable in full.

W'y c'n't a'y'o'e r'a'l'z'e.
You don't need to exist in the realm of constants.
You don't need to be pulled in between sides.
Torn apart, down the very middle.
You can just be you, and that's all you'll ever have to worry about.

Someone over the rainbow...

2008-05-02T00:20:00.003-04:00

I've been looking for a worthy adversary for a long time.

Someone who thinks in opposites of what I think. Not always but sometimes.

I've been looking for someone who is maliciously intelligent.
Not blissfully ignorant.

I've been looking for someone who is smart enough to peer through the swiss cheese holes of this world.
And occasionally take a bite.

Who is apathetically ambitious,
Knowing the world is just one unfinished equation, but is trying anyway.

Someone who is looks much deeper into people than normal.
Much much deeper.

Someone who isn't afraid to live or die either.

Someone who understands why we are all so complicated,
Why everyone is stark raving mad,
and yet accepts the finer points in people regardless.

Who enjoys the simplest things in life,
Like fresh air on a crisp fall morning.
Or how beautiful green forests look in spring.

Someone who talks to themselves, inside their head, but with pictures instead of words.

Someone who can be alone, in a crowd of people, and love the anonymity.

Who understands dreams, realistic or not.

Someone who is open ended, like me.
Open minded as well.

Somebody who sings for the sake of feeling the music, not really caring if they're on key or off.

Who enjoys sleepovers, for the shaving cream faces and pillow fights.

Somebody who knows what being alive is, but resents being human sometimes.

Someone over the rainbow.

Ignorance is bliss I guess.

2008-05-02T00:10:00.003-04:00

Have you ever wondered why pricks live forever?
But the good die young?

Good people spend their time thinking about why they lied, or cheated, or wronged. They're smart enough to realize what it was they did wrong, and try and justify it. It drives them crazy.

Pricks spend their time thinking about themselves, simple, easy people, and thus an infinite circle of thinking about themselves, is created, and they never worry about anything.

Good people are compassionate towards others when they realize they're hurting or vulnerable, and don't take advantage of the person when they are in that state.

Pricks are manipulative sons of bitches, that really are only compassionate when it allows them to achieve something they wanted or needed.

Good people are usually smart people.

Pricks are generally stupid but a worthy adversary is extremely smart while being malicious.

chimera

2008-04-22T23:22:00.001-04:00

chimera

the mind runs circles around itself
in this place
in this time

i cannot access the words to describe
the wonder of this anonymous world
of shapes and colors,
and interpretations of perceptions

falling into thoughts about thoughts
imagery paths and self-induced hallucinations
i couldn't tell you the length of it all
not even in a million words

you could wish to think it was true
and hope to believe that it would,
as much as you want
but in the end
in the very end
it will never be real.

lionize

2008-04-22T23:21:00.001-04:00

lionize

you are amazing
astound me with every step
with every word
with every letter

my eyes get lost in yours
my world would collapse without
you

and yet there is so much mystery
behind those beautiful eyes
i want to explore you

and yet i can't bring myself to move
frozen in this limbo
in ecstasy

until you finally deem me worthy
and wake me
with your soft lips
and incredible eyes.

Tired

2008-04-22T23:19:00.001-04:00

tired

i'm so tired
so tired of your insecurities
of your leeches sucking the life from me

i'm so tired
of our memories haunting me
all of them i wish i could relinquish
but can't

but won't

i'm so tired of the mudstains you leave in my car
right after it was finally clean

i'm so tired of the way that you can't see through me
that you never could
and never will

i'm so impossibly tired of how i'll never escape
this infinite loop of feelings

no matter what i do.
i do.
i don't.

2008-04-18T00:36:00.003-04:00

Peel the tape off my eyelids
I think the brainwashing is complete
All I have plastered across my brain
Are pictures of you

All with running ink
Impossible to forget
How the sun shines off your face
How your hair tickled my cheek

I think the brainwashing is complete
Because the only word I can muster
Is your name

And I utter it in pure ecstasy, forevermore.

Rocket Through Paper

2008-04-18T00:27:00.002-04:00

I've been hiding behind the posters of your face
That litter the walls of my mind
I've been hiding from my impending doom

Soaring at me from afar
Protect me, oh please

I can't protect my self
From charred skin and shattered bones

These paper thin posters can't save me anymore
Life's assault threatens my every breath
Protect me, oh please

Protect me, Save me, oh please, oh please

Wake me

2008-04-18T00:22:00.002-04:00

I've been too busy dying all the time,
To really appreciate the importance in life
The caffeine hangovers and serotonin hangups

Save me from the infernal machine
Wake me

I've been too busy sleeping all the time,
But my eyes are glued open
Red and dry, their pain is haunting

Save me from this demonic contraption
Wake me up

I've been too busy living all the time,
To die underneath a purple sky
Oh how beautiful that sunset was

Save me
Wake me

2008-04-10T01:28:00.003-04:00

what a beautiful person.
did you see them?
beautiful.
did you see what they did?
amazing.
did you see how they did it?
elegant.
did you listen to them speak?
eloquent.
infatuation is so easy.
when you're a hopeless romantic.
or maybe just hopeless.

ghost trails2

2008-04-10T01:22:00.002-04:00

take a picture.
every day everyone moves so fast.
we don't stop anymore.
all we have are pictures.
to capture moments.
it's too bad we're all too fast.
all we are, are ghost trails.
flashes that used to be human.
except for me that is.
my life is an epic standstill.
a beautiful standstill.
take a picture.
i am no ghost trail.

2008-04-10T01:01:00.002-04:00

The wind gently moves the locks of hair on my forehead
as I stare out across the water
the busy skyline of the city reflecting off of the bright sun
it's rays shimmering across the green water
I sit patiently on this cracked piece of slate
as the world goes through the motions around me
I sit and wait patiently
as planes fly overhead
people walk their black dogs
and drive their cars
talk on their cell phones
mediating with the world
with life
they continue to move around me
I wait to
slip into the water
and let the beautiful green engulf me
as I relinquish my life to it
let it fill my lungs and course my veins
for I mediate with you death, my old friend.

What if I'm making a mistake?

2008-04-06T19:14:00.002-04:00

http://xkcd.com/

Zeros and Ones

2008-04-06T14:52:00.002-04:00

I have stood at the top of our never ending networks.
Our cross linked mass storage and super powered systems.
Our glowing screens and flickering cursors.
We are all just zeros and ones, floating in this domain.
And my digital self moves much faster than most.
Our clicking keys interface us with this world.
This world of On and Off.
Not maybe, possibly, perhaps or probably.
Just On and Off.
If only this world was so simple, I would move just as fast here.

Nothing at all.

2008-04-06T13:05:00.002-04:00

I drive the streets a night
Long after most have fallen asleep
I drive in a post apocalyptic world
Where no one remains but myself
I listen to my music
The only relic my great civilization left behind
But I'm not nostalgic for the days of crowded sidewalks
Or busy streets
This infinite loneliness is fulfilling
It is amazing beyond all imagination
To have hope for nothing at all
To have hope for nothing at all.

Untitled

2008-02-27T23:54:00.002-05:00

They told me I couldn't be real...
I sat on the shelf for too long.
My expiration date has long since come and gone.
And I sit gathering dust...
Waiting silently and patiently.
Eager to be touched.
Used even...
Wake me up from this nightmare.
Touch my fake heart.
And see if it comes to life.

People are people.

2008-02-27T23:29:00.005-05:00

The explanation is a lot simpler than most people realize.
People are people.
Thats pretty much it.

Now, Hold it right there. People are people?
Yes.
People are people. They will act and speak as they do.
Specific to each person, but as a group they work off of one another.
People, (Not gender, race, or anything at all specific...) are run by their own faulty system.
A mixture of impulse and insight.
A raging war, each side brutally fighting the other for control.

But there are impulsive people and controlled people? How can you make such a judgement like that?
People are people.
People will slip into each side, with many different results. Good and bad.
We're all relative. Every single one of us.

You know what I think?
People suck.
Every.
Single.
One of you.

But here's why my statement is one of my favorites.
People suck.
Is general, and unspecific.
That means that this has nothing to do with your gender, race or anything at all. Just simply being alive, and awake.
I hate your impulses, and I hate your control.
I hate your ability to see, and your ability to be blind.
I hate your uncaring, and I hate your caring.
I could go on.
There is no bias and no discrimination.
Thats because hate, is just as much relative as anything else.
Thus voiding everything I just explained.

Alone.

2008-02-27T23:19:00.003-05:00

I walk alone.
I do not leave trace of where I've been, no footprints or tracks.
I walk through the drifting snow.
Trapped in blue and white limbo.
I let it enfold me.
I smile a cold smile.
I wish I could tell you, just how I am.
Trapped in this state of forced emptiness.
I wish you could see the hole where my heart never was.
I wish someone knew this bursting feeling inside me.
I wish anyone knew.
But they don't and never will.

Chapter Sixteen' Epilogue (Low)

2008-01-31T19:48:00.000-05:00

I tumbled through infinity for what seemed like hours. It actually only lasted 10 minutes. The police showed up shortly afterward, to my rescue I suppose. I had entry and exit holes, as well as a punctured right lung with a fractured rib. I was rushed to the hospital in critical condition, and was near respiratory arrest. They operated on me immediately. The police questioned me about why the cars were chasing me, and what my attacker looked like.

I explained the truth. I met them on a forum online, and we all liked computers. I was going to Laura Hernandez's house to meet with some other members of the forum to play a game. She then proceeded to attack, each of the other people that decided to meet there. They had a basement filled with highly illegal equipment and were hacking into government agencies. I was chased by Chris, Vince and Kenneth. I tried to get away in my car, but I was chased down by Laura. It was on the side of the road that she explained to me her scapegoat plan for me. She then shot Kenneth, and I. "Taking you as low as you go, Laura." I described to them her car, and license plate. I had committed them to memory a long time before we met. But they certainly didn't know that. I gave them an address for one of the front domains that Kenneth was using to steal social security numbers. They took that and ran far away from me. That was the truth for them, and now the truth for me. I was in the hospital for a week, and many more in pain.

My friends asked me many of the expected questions. What happened? Why are you in the hospital? I told them that I got into a car accident, and that I had a piece of metal puncture my lung. They'll never know the real story, sadly. The only way it'll work is if I remain a shadow. After I recuperated, I lived my life as normally as I could. Rebuilding and securing the network that was so fatally compromised, not on the system side, but on the user side. Six months later, I'm perfectly okay.

My terminal prompt in front of me, my work continues as before. Weaving in and out of networks, finding the patched up holes and cracking through them again. I'm the top of my game.

~TerminalMessage--F:Relinquished$: Hey Phil, How's the lung?

Chapter 15' Death

2008-01-31T18:12:00.000-05:00

I sat in my car pondering my next move. I saw the BMW switch on it's hazards as it came up behind me. That was smart. Slightly more inconspicuous. To my surprise, to figures got out of the BMW. The driver had long brunette hair. Laura. The passenger was Kenneth. Laura walked up to my door, and grabbed the handle. I didn't move, didn't flinch. I knew the door was locked. She pulled out a 9MM Glock from her hip and tapped the window with it. She smiled menacingly. I laughed at her, and unlocked the door.
"Crazy bitch."
I stepped out of the car slowly, taking my time. The air was crisp outside. I loved the taste, the smell, the feeling of fresh air. It cooled the sweat on my neck. Laura kept her back to the traffic, shielding them from the view of the gun now pointed at my chest. Even if she didn't, it was too dark for them to see. Not to mention how far away we were from the road itself. As I stepped, dried leaves crunched under my boots. They say that in the minutes before your death, you have flashback memories of your life.
"Easy now, James. You're lucky I've decided to give you a couple minutes to live. I'm disappointed in you, James." She said mocking my expression from in the basement. "I thought you'd be smart enough to see what you were walking right into. Thats okay, we all make mistakes."
"Just like your parents I suppose." I laughed at my own joke, and my humor in the face of my death. Well if I was going to go, I was going to go as I lived. I thought.
The pistol hit me right above my upper lip, knocking me back. I was greeted by the metallic taste of my own blood. I licked the wound, as if to mock her hit. The pain was blinding, but I stood as tall as I could. Through the windows of my car, I could hear Achilles Last Stand. I smiled at that.
"Well, since your going to die anyway, I might as well rub it in your face." She said with malice.
"Yeah. Don't want me haunting you after I'm dead, asking why or how... Hah."
"We were using your servers to siphon money from various government organizations and credit lines. We switched your system around so you wouldn't be able to notice let alone act on it. All it took was that password you handed me yourself. We've been watching your network for a while, trying to find out it's owner."
"Hahaha. I get it, a vampire can only enter your home if you invite it in right? Very clever."
"I'm glad you enjoyed that. We've already made the necessary arrangements to have you take the fall for Chris' death. Vince should've bled out by now too." She was stone cold. I knew what she was now.
"Bled out?" This grabbed my attention.
"Stab wounds. Thanks for the fingerprints, by the way. We'll be extracting the ones you left on your steering wheel." Laura's ease and calm were unsettling.
"I see. They didn't know what was going on either..."
"That was my idea, knocking them out. Gotta tie up all the loose ends right James?" Ken chimed in. Obviously proud of himself. I can see now why it was so easy to put him down only the day before. Laura leaned over and kissed Ken hard. Shoving her tongue down his throat, putting his hand on her breast. They broke apart finally, just in time for me to realize the opportunity I had missed.
"Right. I guess I'm the last one huh?" I smiled. And started to laugh.
"Hahahahaha.. Hahaha." I doubled over and began laughing almost uncontrollably.
"Shut your fucking mouth." Laura was getting angry.
She held up the gun to my head. My eyes did not leave hers. She was waiting for me to step down. I will not. This is after all, my last stand. I heard the gun fire. I waited for my death. For the recording to stop. Everything to end. I heard Ken fall to the ground. I saw his stunned expression. He obviously never expected it either. He lay on the ground, motionless.

"How's that for an ending?" She asked, as she kissed me hard like she did in the House. She pushed herself onto me. And as she did this, I grabbed her gun arm and twisted it around. I pushed it up to make sure it hurt her. She started to grind against me.
"How's that feel? Good?" She asked sensually.
"I only make mistakes once." I said to her, and dislocated her arm with a crack.
Her scream of pain was drowned out by a gunshot. My ear rang. I felt a warm tingling sensation.
I fell onto my back, as she ran to get into the BMW. I heard it rev up and speed off.
And thats how I got here.
The air is so crisp. I can hear the whoosh of the cars going by. There are so many stars in the sky tonight.
And I wonder to myself, will I ever be a star and hang high in the sky for all to see?
I realize after all this time. What I really am, is human. Something I never wanted to admit or accept.
Always wishing that I was something more. It's too bad I didn't realize that earlier.
Because now... Now I am No One. No One at all.

Chapter 14' Personal Jesus

2008-01-31T17:04:00.001-05:00

"You have to be your own personal Jesus. The only person you can always save is yourself." They say that no matter how long you run, your shadow will catch you. I believe that now, more than ever. My shadow is chasing me right now. My iPod, as if aware of the situation, came to life with Low by Foo Fighters. Perfect. The cars approached quickly, and I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. 90, 100... I didn't start my shift set correctly, and my car wasn't accelerating fast enough. They had a tremendous lead, probably doing 120 or so. Those engines at least doubled mine in horsepower. My car lurched forward as the Audi contacted by bumper. My transmission clanked loudly as it absorbed my downshift into Third gear. At 100+ MPH I could've easily blew my transmission out of my car, but I didn't have a choice. My engine drowned out all sound with it's roar. A lion letting it's presence known.

"Taking you as low as you go... As low as you go" I screamed the lyrics as dodged another attack from the Audi. My attackers came on either side of me to prepare to box me in. I saw the move, hard braked and swung around to the left of the BMW. The cars clipped each other, but stabilized to my dismay. I took this time to try and mash my foot farther into the floor trying to gain every since ounce of torque and horsepower from my engine. I had one last resort, but I had to use it wisely. One beautiful thing about having a turbocharged car, is the ability to add a nitrous fogger system to each cylinder without changing the head more than once.

I flew up Hutchinson North Parkway with speed I've never seen or even dared before. I hit the Orchard Beach bridge, and almost lost the car at 120 MPH. I knew what was coming up next, and it was my only chance at near escape. Low finished at the perfect time, and was replaced with Jerry Was A Race Car Driver. Our tires screeched as we made the sharp turn. My rear tires slid towards my passenger side, and I heard the suspension crunch down trying to keep my car upright. I saw a flash of bright red in my rear view mirror. I didn't have time to think about what it was, because the BMW was bearing down on me. It's body contacted my car's and sparks flew. My driver side mirror flew off of my car crackling and raining down on my road behind me. A quick glance in my rear view showed the Audi everywhere, flames engulfing it's now deceased driver. Cars were stopped everywhere. It was witness hell.

Sorry, Chris. You weren't a bad guy. Or maybe you were. My car's violent vibration told me that destruction was imminent. I ejected the small red button that was hidden inside my console. And pressed it. My engine screamed and whined loudly as my car exploded with speed. 130, 140....My speedometer could no longer help me. The BMW could not immediately accelerate to this speed. It lurched left and right, as if the wind was knocking in to my car trying to murder me. The other cars on the road swerved out of my way. The Beemer was at least a half mile in my rear view mirror as I made the sharp turn onto Interstate 95 North. This is my getaway. Thats when my faithful engine could not take any more, and as I used the last 10% of my nitrous supply to re-accelerate my engine seized it's run. I watched it's RPMs drop to zero, as my hope fell in the same manner. I lost my steering at 90 MPH, and I knew my brakes would be next. I slammed my foot down. My tires screeched loudly as they struggled to grip the cracked asphalt.

My cell phone started to chime as I turned straight towards the forested area by the highway. Max was calling. I answered the phone. "Max, things have just gone crazy. I can't fucking talk right now, but cover for me. Call whoever to do it." I didn't give him a chance to answer. I had to face whoever was driving that car, to make my escape. My car came to a stop right before the tree line, and that was all I needed. I saw the Beemer fly up the ramp. I shut off my lights and hoped that this would go the easy way. "Fucking bloody hell." The Beemer turned directly at me. The HID headlights mocked my slain lion. "Rest in peace. I hope I won't join you."

Chapter 13' Or so I thought.

2008-01-28T22:18:00.000-05:00

"In times of peril, above all remember that you aren't really human. It'll get you out of anything." I wish this were as easy as it sounds. I awoke to the smell of blood, and a sharp pain the in back of my head and nose. Someone had hit me in the nose while I was asleep. How nice. Before I chose to open my eyes and alert my captors of my consciousness, I began to use my senses as best I could to figure this situation out. My hands were tied behind my back behind the chair as expected. My legs were not bound though. Mistake. I couldn't smell anything, I could however feel the heat from lamps on my face.

I opened my eyes...
"Nice of you to wake up, now hurry and grab your lunch or you'll be late for school." Ken joked.
"Glad to see that you're still so predictable Ken." His smile immediately dropped.
"Even when all of the odds in this situation are against you, you still choose to taunt me?"
"It's one of my redeeming qualities. Otherwise, I'd just be a complete asshole."
His movement was swift over to me, smashing me in the jaw with his left fist. Truth to be told, I didn't see it coming. It was thrilling. I wasn't afraid of dying, but just dying before I got to pay him back for that punch.

"Now, it's time for business. Who do you work for?"
"Excuse me..?" I was honestly, incredulous at this accusation. Mostly because I was independent in my operations, other than this one.
"We got word, that there is a snitch high up in the circles. Someone that has infiltrated important networks because of FBI Informant status."
"Where'd you get this word from?"
Another smash to my face. This one hit high on my cheekbone.
"I ask the questions here asshole."
"Ken, you've already committed yourself to a death sentence by doing that."
He punched me dead in between my lungs, knocking the wind right out of me. He wasn't weak admittedly. I choked and tried to control my breathing again. He came closer to me, a half a foot from my face.
"I'm in control here. Not you." He said, with his snake like tension.
My movement was fluid and swift, I kicked him sideways in the knee buckling him down. Then I stood up and kicked him in the chest. He flew onto his back stunned. He attempted to get back up, and I kicked him right in the diaphragm. He wheezed on the dingy floor of the basement I could now make out.
"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" I said, to his squirming body.
"Happy now Ken?" Alex stood behind the row of bright spotlights.
"I'm disappointed in you, Alex."
She looked at me with disappointment.
"I'm sorry James. But as it turns out I needed you in a more as an escape utility than a companion. And my name really is Laura. Alex was just a paper trail. Though, call me whatever. You'll be dead soon anyway."
"Maybe." I said as I flipped the chair around, and freed my hands.
And with that, I kicked Ken once more in his side with enough force to lift him off the ground and across the floor.
"Stop that would you? I'm going to need him to help clean you up off the floor."
I felt the wind rush by me, from the baseball bat that narrowly missed my head. I kicked her across the legs as she moved by me, and she fell to the ground.
"Crazy bitch."

It was expected, that I was blinded through the entire situation. That it was all there is to it. I could've seen their manipulation, but I chose to take a blind eye to it. To protect myself, and somewhat my ego I suppose.

"James WAIT!" Laura screamed as I ran out of the door of the basement room.

It was a door on the other side of the basement, I failed to notice during my visits. I've got Laura to blame for that. I came into the main workstation room, to see Chris sitting at his chair.

"Sorry James, Ken's orders."
He began to get up as I ran towards the dusty hardwood stairs. I was upstairs much quicker than he was. I grabbed the knob for the large black door but it did not budge. I checked for locking devices. I found nothing but the industrial doorknob. I looked around. The door had two large windows around it, just big enough for me. I ripped open the window just as Chris was upstairs.

I jumped out of it, I didn't have a chance to think. I landed in a rose bush, Of course, the irony was beautiful for that one. The thorns tore at my skin as I freed myself from the bush. I was getting really dizzy from the concussion that I no doubt had gotten from the blow to my head.

The black door opened behind me as I got to the sidewalk. Chris, Ken and Vince all jumped down the stairs after me. It didn't take me much time to figure out what was going to happen next if I didn't get out of there. They could make me disappear, really easily. And put the blame on someone innocent. Neither of which I wanted. I ran, as fast as I could. Letting the adrenaline take it's course in curing my pain. Ignoring the burning in all of my muscles. The pounding in my head. Letting everything melt, as I ran for my life. Literally.

Vince was the only one who followed, which I found odd but didn't have time to ponder too much. I cut through fences and yards trying to lose him. But the man was in tip top shape. More so than I was, and if I kept this up, I would lose. I had no choice for my next move. I cut across through a Burger King parking lot, right onto Mayflower. Vince was behind me no more than a block. I grabbed my key and smashed it into the lock as fast as I could. Closed the door, locked it as my engine roared to life. Vince got to my car trying to smash the window. Wrong move. I slammed the car into reverse and floored it. I managed to swing the car around and knock him over.

I switched my car into first gear, and took off as fast as I possibly could. I intentionally parked my car as close to the highway as possible so that if I had to make a fast getaway, I could. I dug my foot down as far as it would possibly go. My car rocketing at the highway. I tried to gather myself as best as possible, but the adrenaline in my blood would not allow. My hands were shaking. I was breathing fast. Uncontrollably fast. But this was the adrenaline high I was so used to. So ready for. I flew onto the highway with extreme speed, and almost lost control of the car. "I made it..." I said to myself with a sigh of relief.

I slowed down a bit to avoid attention from the police. That would be the last thing I needed, since they were no doubt setting up a police warrant for my arrest. I knew this game, I knew these people. But they were too predictable. I peered in all of my mirrors cautiously. All I needed to do was get to my computer, and get them before them before they got me. Two cars riding the left and right lanes were closing real fast on me. The blue HID lights told me one car was Chris'. The signature of the other car told me it had to be Laura's BMW. "It's going to be a long night." I said to myself, as my car roared. Ready for the coming fight.

Chapter 12' Satisfaction

2008-01-20T15:38:00.000-05:00

(Sorry for the long interval in between chapters. Life has been weird recently. Regardless, onward we go.)

"Always stay in focus... If you lose focus, you'll lose your life." Inspirational, but hard to follow. Chris was the first to leave the workstations. He relocated to the other side of the room, and started setting up the soldering equipment. Probably creating a new device for our malice. I glanced back at my workstation. The clock read 5:18 PM. Time to return to my normal life. I pushed my chair behind me, and stood up. Right as I did, I bumped into Laura.. or Alex.. or who ever she was then. I felt her hands slide down my chest as I got up. My thoughts immediately shifted off returning to work.

"Follow." She whispered into my ear.
I saw her glance at her cell phone for a moment, or.. maybe she didn't.
We walked upstairs, and the creaky wooden stairs moaned in agony of our weight. I followed her up the dark red carpet staircase into the dark upstairs of this house.

Pause.
There are many times in my life, that I wish I was born without a sex drive at all. It's quite easily the last connection I have to being truly human. All it has done is blinded me at the worst times, while teasing me with impulse. Sex is disgustingly impulsive, and wrong in my cognitive brain. Everything tells me that, but my body does not let my brain free of it's chains. It's the price we pay to have the two mated together.
Play.

This house was unknown to me completely, and here I was following a girl that I didn't know at all up a flight of stairs into darkness. It was thrilling in every way. We reached the top of the carpet stairs with ease. A bright orange streetlight shown in the window of the second story bedroom. The room though dark, was mostly empty. There was a couch that simply did not fit with the other seemingly unused items in the room. It was black from what I could see, felt material. Next to it, a dusty hardwood end table, with an old looking gold base lamp. There was a beat up area rug underneath these items, on top of a very dark hardwood floor. Just as I was finishing my processing of the room, she kissed me. Hard. I could feel her leg wrap around me as she pulled me against her.

Something, from somewhere told me something was wrong. I can't tell you what, because right then, right there my brain wasn't functioning. I pushed her down onto the couch, to assert myself again. I moved on top of her, against my better judgement. And started to unbutton the loose black dress shirt she was wearing. I kissed her neck as I removed her bra strap. The red silk bra fell off her body, effortlessly. And then I heard her whisper.
"I'm sorry..."

The crushing blow to the back of my head blinded me in the next moment. The shooting pain, nausea and then unconsciousness.

Chapter 11 Hypocrite.

2008-01-02T08:22:00.000-05:00

(Back from a short Winter vacation hiatus.)

"The most important rule about this game. Is knowing yourself, everything else comes naturally." I love that one. The musty foyer of the house was just as it was last time. Empty. Kind of like me. I removed my trusty leather jacket and slung it over my shoulder as I walked down the hardwood stairs. Their creaks from my weight alerted the dwellers of the basement to my presence.
"Nice of you to be on time, James."
"Anytime, Laura."
"I can't say I'm very surprised, you make the perfect hypocrite after all."
She came dangerously close to me, and whispered in my ear. Her voice, even as a whisper was enticing.
"Don't slip up, and maybe you'll get to know a little more about me."
The words slid off her tongue with more sensuality then I was used to.
"Have a little faith, Laura." I whispered back into her ear, with equal sensuality. I had proven that I was once again, in duality of character. She walked back to her desk and resumed her work preparing the presentation for the meeting.

I peered around at the other members of our ramshackle squad, to find Vince looking quite destroyed. They say drugs are a tough game, and his personality fit perfectly as vulnerable to them. Chris was hard at work in several command line windows. I wondered what he was working on. Gino was absent from our meeting tonight, probably working or with his family. I could appreciate his duality. Kenneth was sulking at his workstation, looking like we'd interrupted him from something important. The great part of being able to play multiple roles, is that you're never absent from a real life. None of us fit the normal stereotype of an average hacker. We were the social elites of our own group. None of us were dominated by our abilities, we dominated because of our abilities.

I sat on a bar stool near the large assortment of radio frequency jamming equipment. Alex arose from her chair after a couple finishing adjustments, and gathered everyone's attention. It wasn't hard for her. She certainly hadn't lost mine.
"Ok guys, we had a pretty nasty problem today. Our contact from Philadelphia was uploading the details for an illegal wiretap in Oregon. He failed to encrypt the files correctly, and we believe to have leaked our job information to several servers."
"Laura, I don't see a problem here. Take down the servers." Said Ken, naturally pompous.
"It's too bad one of them is a AES-256 Encrypted server out of a Private Investigator's agency in Langley. That could mean extraordinarily bad news for us, if it's the wrong one."
She played her role as Laura flawlessly. She could just as well be just as empty as I am. Acting for the cameras, so to speak.
"What's the plan, L?" Chris asked, almost eager.
"I thought you'd never ask." And on that note, she brought up a grid of map. On blue and white interlaced line map, there was a red dot simply labeled. "Target."
"Straight and to the point. I like it." I said, and smiled her way.
"I thought you would, Soul. We're going to take down the agency though a 4 way DoS attack, but only after destroying that bit of data that got stolen from us." I love when a woman could take control of an op, assert herself on the team.
"W-Wh-W-What?" Vince looked up from his blank screen, and at Alex wide-eyed. He was trembling.
"Vince, can you handle being here right now?" I asked. I couldn't stand this very much longer.
"Y-Y-eah." And turned back to the blank screen.
"I'm officially taking Vince's slot for this op. I'm not putting my ass on the line, for some junkie to get me thrown in jail. Vince, get up. Here's 15 bucks. Get a cab home, would you?" I had run out of patience.
"O-ok." He replied. Still trembling.

"Alright then. Chris, you're in charge of deleting that data. Wipe it clean. Got it?"
He nodded his approval. And then she turned to me.
"Listen stud. Don't go all lone wolf on me here huh? I need you to gather the spiders from OOL339 and attack the office on my mark. Ok?"
"No problem, Boss Lady." I grinned.
"Ken, we already went over what you're doing. OOL231 spiders, same time as Soul. I'll be hitting with VER3255 spiders. Do not initiate your attacks before the file has be successfully deleted or we're really screwed."

We all got to our workstations quickly after that short briefing. Each member on the team chanted their ready signals, and we were off. I immediately went to work. I turned on a little playlist of music, and donned Vince's Sennheiser 144 headphones. Vince had limited music that I enjoyed, so I sampled some System Of a Down, Led Zeppelin and Deftones from my iPod Nano. And we were off. I started opening connections all over the world, routing myself so that it was impossible to retrace my actions. Then I dialed into a server that I used for local attacks, right outside of Virginia. Latency would be low, and perfect. Kashmir blasted out of the Sennheisers. The sound was full, and amazing. Five hundred dollars would really go a long way with earphones I guess.
Alex chose to synchronize our actions together, using messages instead of verbal communication due to my self-enclosure. I saw the red message come up. "Attack, 34.66.144.411/dd7 in 30 seconds." This meant that the file had been exterminated and that we were almost finished here. I unleashed my army of drones against the server. The combined 4 way attack between all of us mashed it down in less than a minute after we started. The deed was done. I deleted all of the connection logs from this computer and all of my routing computers. Erased all traceable data, and completely covered my tracks.
Deftones high distortion guitar rocked my ears. Satisfaction. I shut off the music, and looked to face the others. Their faces shown of relief, and of satisfaction as well. Something we all shared, at least in this moment.

Chapter 10 "Redline"

2007-12-19T18:08:00.000-05:00

"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.)

Chapter 9 "Breathe Out Your Soul"

2007-12-19T06:50:00.000-05:00

"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.)

Chapter 8 "Humdrum Life"

2007-12-17T16:15:00.001-05:00

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.)

Chapter 7 "Pugilism"

2007-12-13T03:27:00.000-05:00

"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.)

Chapter 6 "Coffee can be dangerous."

2007-12-13T02:12:00.000-05:00

"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.)

Chapter 5 "The Test"

2007-12-11T01:08:00.000-05:00

(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.

Chapter 4 "The Meeting"

2007-12-09T18:32:00.000-05:00

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)

Chapter 3 "Enter, Vicious"

2007-12-07T18:41:00.000-05:00

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.

Chapter 2 "The House"

2007-12-07T16:09:00.000-05:00

"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)

Chapter 1 "Snowy Night"

2007-12-07T03:53:00.000-05:00

"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.

Nobody Knows Me.

2007-12-07T03:34:00.000-05:00

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.

I am too controlled for that... Maybe.

2007-12-07T03:22:00.000-05:00

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.

Distracted.

2007-11-24T04:50:00.000-05:00

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.

Old Soul.

2007-11-24T04:35:00.000-05:00

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.

Similarities.

2007-11-11T14:27:00.000-05:00

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.

Sleepless.

2007-11-11T05:13:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-11-10T04:27:00.000-05:00

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.)

Monsters.

2007-11-09T03:00:00.000-05:00

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.

Ghost Trails.

2007-11-09T02:24:00.001-05:00

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.

Disconnected.

2007-11-07T02:31:00.001-05:00

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?

Ending October. Starting November.

2007-11-03T02:26:00.000-04:00

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.

Beautiful Sunset.

2007-10-08T18:52:00.001-04:00

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.

Realistic Position.

2007-10-04T15:58:00.000-04:00

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.

The difference is submininal.

2007-10-03T02:31:00.001-04:00

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?

Random Blather.

2007-10-03T02:19:00.000-04:00

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.

I think you've got the sickness, I suggest you get it cured.

2007-10-01T23:51:00.000-04:00

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.

God? Where has my inner voice gone?

2007-09-12T01:16:00.001-04:00

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.)

Apostrophe.

2007-09-11T05:03:00.000-04:00

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.

Thirsty.

2007-09-09T23:19:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-08-25T16:13:00.001-04:00

In case you guys haven't been reading the comments on some of the posts...
You defiantly should.

"Animal I Have Become"

2007-08-25T15:27:00.000-04:00

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.

"The Good Left Undone"

2007-08-25T15:20:00.000-04:00

"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.

2007-08-12T03:00:00.000-04:00

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.

I'm still trying to find...

2007-08-12T02:43:00.000-04:00

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.

Fantasy (Reply)

2007-07-25T22:44:00.000-04:00

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.

Fantasy.

2007-07-16T01:54:00.000-04:00

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.

Mirror Mirror On The Wall...

2007-07-15T01:26:00.000-04:00

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.