"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.)
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Chapter 6 "Coffee can be dangerous."
"Sometimes I have to look in the mirror just to make sure I'm still here... Thats how numb I am." Explaining that to people was always so tough. I turned around quickly, to see Laura decked out in her long peacoat with a black scarf. I liked her style. Her long hair blew in the slight cold breeze. She smiled at me from feet away, and suddenly my environment seemed insignificant. The orange glow of the streetlights reflected off of her pupils. Like artificial fire, in her soul.
"Hey stranger. Following me are you?"
"Maybe. Where are you headed? It'll be sun up soon, and you need to get inside. Don't forget, the sun burns vampires."
"Thanks for the tip. I'm going to get a morning coffee actually. Feel like joining me?"
"Coffee can be dangerous. I'm in."
And on that note, I turned back to walking. She caught up and reengaged me.
"So.. I see you're fitting into our little group very nicely." She laughed. So did I.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. How did you get mixed up in them anyway?"
"A big mistake, but I got a pretty enticing work order from Ken. And it's paid off really well so far."
"Yeah.. I'm hoping to get into some of that myself. But we'll see. Money has never really been too much to me."
"It'll pull you in quicker than you'll realize." I'm not like other people here, in case you haven't noticed.
"We'll see."
We walked down the serpentine block, in silence. I'll tell you, it was slightly awkward. And unexpected, from someone with a fiery personality. I could tell something was bothering her, and honestly I wasn't in any mood to be light. I was blunt.
"So.. What do you need?"
"...Uh. What?"
"You were the one who contacted me. So far anybody I've talked to had been reached by Ken. Unless you were stalking me, I've got something you need."
"And you Soul, live up to every aspect of your shadow."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
"Alright. So... My name is actually Alex Johannson. I'm from North Carolina. My mother and father died long ago, and I've been living with my foster parents in NY. I am actually 18 though. I hacked myself into a corner. A very tight one."
Pause. This girl actually managed to hack bait for me. And I bit it like a hungry fish. I'm honestly, very impressed. This has to be good. Play.
"Where is this corner located?"
"FBI Black-Hole List. Secure Server #3445A On PPT151."
"Holy shit. What the hell were you doing on there?"
"Erasing my name from it of course. I've been on it since I was 10, and frankly, I'm tired of it." Honestly, you are starting to sound like me the more we talk.
"So. What's the timer on your arrest?"
"The request for it went in 2 days ago, it'll reach New York in another 2 days. And then, off to jail I go."
"Give me a flash drive with your information, the server's location, and the SSNs of both your identities. I'll do a little cross-link from Amsterdam and it'll buy you some time to fix your mistake."
"Wait..."
"Sorry. I don't finish other people's business for them. I'll open the door. But you have to walk through it."
"Why, How kind of you Morpheus." She smiled.
"Don't mention it." I smiled back.
The sound of our feet crunching against the ground could be heard for miles. It seemed more like we were traversing a desert than a city street. We reached the coffee shop on the corner, only to find it closed. A digital clock inside the dirty window wore the time. 4:47 AM. I guess there was too much wishful thinking involved in this plan. I turned around to be faced by four hooded figures. It was too dark to make out their faces. The ghosts with their silent threat.
"You were very right, Alex. Coffee can be dangerous."
(End Chapter 6.)
"Hey stranger. Following me are you?"
"Maybe. Where are you headed? It'll be sun up soon, and you need to get inside. Don't forget, the sun burns vampires."
"Thanks for the tip. I'm going to get a morning coffee actually. Feel like joining me?"
"Coffee can be dangerous. I'm in."
And on that note, I turned back to walking. She caught up and reengaged me.
"So.. I see you're fitting into our little group very nicely." She laughed. So did I.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. How did you get mixed up in them anyway?"
"A big mistake, but I got a pretty enticing work order from Ken. And it's paid off really well so far."
"Yeah.. I'm hoping to get into some of that myself. But we'll see. Money has never really been too much to me."
"It'll pull you in quicker than you'll realize." I'm not like other people here, in case you haven't noticed.
"We'll see."
We walked down the serpentine block, in silence. I'll tell you, it was slightly awkward. And unexpected, from someone with a fiery personality. I could tell something was bothering her, and honestly I wasn't in any mood to be light. I was blunt.
"So.. What do you need?"
"...Uh. What?"
"You were the one who contacted me. So far anybody I've talked to had been reached by Ken. Unless you were stalking me, I've got something you need."
"And you Soul, live up to every aspect of your shadow."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
"Alright. So... My name is actually Alex Johannson. I'm from North Carolina. My mother and father died long ago, and I've been living with my foster parents in NY. I am actually 18 though. I hacked myself into a corner. A very tight one."
Pause. This girl actually managed to hack bait for me. And I bit it like a hungry fish. I'm honestly, very impressed. This has to be good. Play.
"Where is this corner located?"
"FBI Black-Hole List. Secure Server #3445A On PPT151."
"Holy shit. What the hell were you doing on there?"
"Erasing my name from it of course. I've been on it since I was 10, and frankly, I'm tired of it." Honestly, you are starting to sound like me the more we talk.
"So. What's the timer on your arrest?"
"The request for it went in 2 days ago, it'll reach New York in another 2 days. And then, off to jail I go."
"Give me a flash drive with your information, the server's location, and the SSNs of both your identities. I'll do a little cross-link from Amsterdam and it'll buy you some time to fix your mistake."
"Wait..."
"Sorry. I don't finish other people's business for them. I'll open the door. But you have to walk through it."
"Why, How kind of you Morpheus." She smiled.
"Don't mention it." I smiled back.
The sound of our feet crunching against the ground could be heard for miles. It seemed more like we were traversing a desert than a city street. We reached the coffee shop on the corner, only to find it closed. A digital clock inside the dirty window wore the time. 4:47 AM. I guess there was too much wishful thinking involved in this plan. I turned around to be faced by four hooded figures. It was too dark to make out their faces. The ghosts with their silent threat.
"You were very right, Alex. Coffee can be dangerous."
(End Chapter 6.)
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Chapter 5 "The Test"
(If somebody happens to find an error whether it be grammar or punctuation, feel free to leave me a comment with the sentence with the error so I can fix it. Thanks.)
"Life is beautiful when you're numb." Not being numb, means being vulnerable. And I can't stand vulnerability. Everyone left the room and headed over to their desks. I stood behind everyone, with my arms crossed. Laura went over to the switchboard on the wall. The lights dimmed very low.
"A little lighting to set the mood." Another sexy wink in my direction. I could tell I was going to enjoy this.
Some light tapping on their backlit keyboards, screens flashing with life and activity as everyone synchronized.
"Concrete, Go."
"Band Aid, Go."
"Relinquished, Go."
"Moray, Go"
"What's the target?" Time to assert some authority.
"2X2 Attack on a Miami Police Database server." Laura became 'Relinquished' seamlessly.
"I see. Alright then. Fratelli, Laura is going to get you a police database login prompt. Get yourself into the system." Here's where it really matters.
"Are you sure about that? Won't they be able to trace it back to me?" They could.
"No, Laura will make sure of that. You know what I'm thinking?" She turned around and smiled. Great minds think alike.
While she got to work on that, I decided to make use of my newly minted soldiers.
"Vince, still remember how to decrypt encrypted links on the fly?"
"I don't take orders from you, Soul."
"You do now, or I'll do it myself."
Vince was silent.
"Just as I thought. Now, as I was saying. Decrypt the link between Laura and the Miami P.D. Rehash the ID after it's been authenticated, so our good friend Gino here suffers no consequence. Is the door open Crete?"
"Door open." Ken replied, snake-like.
"Moray, you're up. Start downloading the files through that open door. The authentication window closes in 10 seconds."
"Way ahead of you, Soul. Documents received and decrypted." I appreciated Chris' enthusiasm.
"Well done. Close that wound up, and make sure there isn't a scar."
It didn't take more than a moment for them to finish what they started. They were gifted as a group, and singularly. The people I obviously have to worry about, Ken and Vince weren't as powerful as their opposition. My pieces were employing my strong strategy. While constantly calculating my own vulnerabilities. I felt invincible.
"You all pass." I removed a flash drive that had been hidden in the "secret" pocket in my jacket. "Here are the 1024 keys for the DMV of Massachusetts. That includes my server I.P. Don't take it for granted. Keys expire in a week."
"Don't take for yourself for granted, James." Ken had to have the last word in.
"I'll let myself out." And I gave everyone a wave as I walked up the creaky, dusty hardwood stairs. My life would drastically change after this night, I would soon find out. But for now, I was happy for my immediate success. I walked out the large black door, to be greeted again by the cold. It was nice to have my trusty leather jacket, I felt safe and it kept me warm.
I checked my pocket to make sure I still had my 4 dollars, even wallet-less I wouldn't be surprised if I had lost it. I walked in the opposite direction of my car, towards the main street 2 blocks away. As I walked, I ventured into my mind for a while. Since I was a kid, I always loved the vividness of the night. In the day, everything is vibrant and colorful. But the night is vivid. Your other senses come to life. They are being challenged to handle the changed environment. And at the same time, you have to enjoy the peace. The day is filled with too much chaos sometimes. Thats why I loved being nocturnal. A car hummed past me down the street. The wetness of the ground shone in the streetlight. Ice never stands a chance in the city. The air smelled of crisp freshly fallen snow. I was melting into the beautiful night again, basking in my own thoughts.
"Hey Vampire."
I knew that voice anywhere.
"Life is beautiful when you're numb." Not being numb, means being vulnerable. And I can't stand vulnerability. Everyone left the room and headed over to their desks. I stood behind everyone, with my arms crossed. Laura went over to the switchboard on the wall. The lights dimmed very low.
"A little lighting to set the mood." Another sexy wink in my direction. I could tell I was going to enjoy this.
Some light tapping on their backlit keyboards, screens flashing with life and activity as everyone synchronized.
"Concrete, Go."
"Band Aid, Go."
"Relinquished, Go."
"Moray, Go"
"What's the target?" Time to assert some authority.
"2X2 Attack on a Miami Police Database server." Laura became 'Relinquished' seamlessly.
"I see. Alright then. Fratelli, Laura is going to get you a police database login prompt. Get yourself into the system." Here's where it really matters.
"Are you sure about that? Won't they be able to trace it back to me?" They could.
"No, Laura will make sure of that. You know what I'm thinking?" She turned around and smiled. Great minds think alike.
While she got to work on that, I decided to make use of my newly minted soldiers.
"Vince, still remember how to decrypt encrypted links on the fly?"
"I don't take orders from you, Soul."
"You do now, or I'll do it myself."
Vince was silent.
"Just as I thought. Now, as I was saying. Decrypt the link between Laura and the Miami P.D. Rehash the ID after it's been authenticated, so our good friend Gino here suffers no consequence. Is the door open Crete?"
"Door open." Ken replied, snake-like.
"Moray, you're up. Start downloading the files through that open door. The authentication window closes in 10 seconds."
"Way ahead of you, Soul. Documents received and decrypted." I appreciated Chris' enthusiasm.
"Well done. Close that wound up, and make sure there isn't a scar."
It didn't take more than a moment for them to finish what they started. They were gifted as a group, and singularly. The people I obviously have to worry about, Ken and Vince weren't as powerful as their opposition. My pieces were employing my strong strategy. While constantly calculating my own vulnerabilities. I felt invincible.
"You all pass." I removed a flash drive that had been hidden in the "secret" pocket in my jacket. "Here are the 1024 keys for the DMV of Massachusetts. That includes my server I.P. Don't take it for granted. Keys expire in a week."
"Don't take for yourself for granted, James." Ken had to have the last word in.
"I'll let myself out." And I gave everyone a wave as I walked up the creaky, dusty hardwood stairs. My life would drastically change after this night, I would soon find out. But for now, I was happy for my immediate success. I walked out the large black door, to be greeted again by the cold. It was nice to have my trusty leather jacket, I felt safe and it kept me warm.
I checked my pocket to make sure I still had my 4 dollars, even wallet-less I wouldn't be surprised if I had lost it. I walked in the opposite direction of my car, towards the main street 2 blocks away. As I walked, I ventured into my mind for a while. Since I was a kid, I always loved the vividness of the night. In the day, everything is vibrant and colorful. But the night is vivid. Your other senses come to life. They are being challenged to handle the changed environment. And at the same time, you have to enjoy the peace. The day is filled with too much chaos sometimes. Thats why I loved being nocturnal. A car hummed past me down the street. The wetness of the ground shone in the streetlight. Ice never stands a chance in the city. The air smelled of crisp freshly fallen snow. I was melting into the beautiful night again, basking in my own thoughts.
"Hey Vampire."
I knew that voice anywhere.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Chapter 4 "The Meeting"
I turned around in my seat to see Gino walking down the stairs. A bit on the heavy side, with a black goatee and spiked hair.
He was wearing a police uniform, which was unsettling. I arose and stood still for a second, but I received a very close whisper.
"Don't worry, he's with us."
Laura moved past me, dangerously close. I outstretched my hand to Fratelli. It was embossed in his gold name tag. A name I would not soon forget. He shook it, and I introduced myself.
"Old Soul. But Soul is just fine."
"Fratelli. But I'm sure you already know, for various reasons." He smiled. It wasn't the devilish grin that Kenneth carries.
Something about the way that Fratelli went about himself was very disarming to me. However, I did not let that infiltrate me as easily as it should've. Call me paranoid.
"So.. Soul. Where are you from?"
"Around. How'd you come into contact with Ken and the others?"
In the background of our conversation, Laura and Ken were corralling the others into another room in the basement. One I did not notice when I walked in. The room went silent in between the whirring of the hard drives and our interrogation of each other.
"Crete came into contact with me, with an offer I couldn't resist."
"Thats how it usually goes. Lets go see what's going on."
It was cute how Kenneth manipulated everyone into calling him by his pseudonym. I almost felt respect for him. Almost.
Fratelli walked in front of me into the room. I stood for just a moment and thought to myself. These people were not exactly what I was expecting. Instead of leaders, I just saw a marionette. It was too easy to plan my next move against my opponent.
I examined the doorway I was walking through. And it was then I realized why I didn't immediately notice it. It was a bookshelf. I admired the style of the person who built this room. Very secret agent.
I slowly made my way through this peculiar doorway, into the smaller room. There was a nice hardwood table setup, with a video phone in the center. It was spacious enough for the 6 people that occupied it. Perfectly actually. The walls were a mahogany red with molding and continuing blue plush rug motif from the large room. There were no windows in this room, and it was lit by a florescent light in comparison to the natural lights in the large room. It felt more artificial. Understandably so.
At the head of the table sat Kenneth. To his left, Vince and Chris. To his right, Laura and Fratelli. There was one seat open at the opposite head of the table. I loved the metaphor we unknowingly created. Like chess partners at opposite ends of the board. Moving our pieces against each other.
"Nice of you to join us, Soul."
"My pleasure. Shall we begin? I'm growing weary of this waiting game."
"The fact that you're now permanent fixture in our organization, means that you'll have to give me a bit more respect. I am after all, the leader."
"You know what Ken? You haven't done anything to earn that respect. And don't mistake me for a permanent part of this. I'll tell you if I feel that way."
This drew looks of disgust from Vince. Chris was indifferent. But Fratelli and Laura did not act the same, they seemed half amazed and half interested. This gave me the confidence I needed for the next move. I spoke up.
"You know what I bring to the table. Unrestricted access to the DMV databases, in multiple states. The ability to fake administration in two major bank chains. Police database access for the NYPD, and NY State Troopers. Finally, FBI watch list information. All of these systems controlled by my Amsterdam services, but with local servers stashed around the state. These all protected by SHA-2 1024-Bit Encryption. I'd love to see you try and break that. It takes me an hour just to authenticate. Double IP faking, and routing through California from an old friend of mine. You want access? Prove to me that you deserve it. Show me what you've got."
"James here thinks he can enter and challenge us." Kenneth looked surprised by this move.
"Don't be a fool. This isn't a challenge, it's a test. If you pass, then you'll become the 'Vicious 6'. If not, then I walk. By the way, I am not afraid of my name. So feel free to call me that if you'd like."
"How dare you come to this table and challenge us? What gives you the right?" Thats right, Ken. Good boy, back into that corner.
"I have the right. I have what you need. It's easy to tell because you would've done all of that if you had the ability. Lets see who agrees with me."
Laura, Fratelli and Chris raised their hands. Done. Checkmate for now.
"Fine. Everyone to their stations. Lets make this quick." Ken was infuriated, but defeated. For now.
And so the test began.
(End Chapter 4)
He was wearing a police uniform, which was unsettling. I arose and stood still for a second, but I received a very close whisper.
"Don't worry, he's with us."
Laura moved past me, dangerously close. I outstretched my hand to Fratelli. It was embossed in his gold name tag. A name I would not soon forget. He shook it, and I introduced myself.
"Old Soul. But Soul is just fine."
"Fratelli. But I'm sure you already know, for various reasons." He smiled. It wasn't the devilish grin that Kenneth carries.
Something about the way that Fratelli went about himself was very disarming to me. However, I did not let that infiltrate me as easily as it should've. Call me paranoid.
"So.. Soul. Where are you from?"
"Around. How'd you come into contact with Ken and the others?"
In the background of our conversation, Laura and Ken were corralling the others into another room in the basement. One I did not notice when I walked in. The room went silent in between the whirring of the hard drives and our interrogation of each other.
"Crete came into contact with me, with an offer I couldn't resist."
"Thats how it usually goes. Lets go see what's going on."
It was cute how Kenneth manipulated everyone into calling him by his pseudonym. I almost felt respect for him. Almost.
Fratelli walked in front of me into the room. I stood for just a moment and thought to myself. These people were not exactly what I was expecting. Instead of leaders, I just saw a marionette. It was too easy to plan my next move against my opponent.
I examined the doorway I was walking through. And it was then I realized why I didn't immediately notice it. It was a bookshelf. I admired the style of the person who built this room. Very secret agent.
I slowly made my way through this peculiar doorway, into the smaller room. There was a nice hardwood table setup, with a video phone in the center. It was spacious enough for the 6 people that occupied it. Perfectly actually. The walls were a mahogany red with molding and continuing blue plush rug motif from the large room. There were no windows in this room, and it was lit by a florescent light in comparison to the natural lights in the large room. It felt more artificial. Understandably so.
At the head of the table sat Kenneth. To his left, Vince and Chris. To his right, Laura and Fratelli. There was one seat open at the opposite head of the table. I loved the metaphor we unknowingly created. Like chess partners at opposite ends of the board. Moving our pieces against each other.
"Nice of you to join us, Soul."
"My pleasure. Shall we begin? I'm growing weary of this waiting game."
"The fact that you're now permanent fixture in our organization, means that you'll have to give me a bit more respect. I am after all, the leader."
"You know what Ken? You haven't done anything to earn that respect. And don't mistake me for a permanent part of this. I'll tell you if I feel that way."
This drew looks of disgust from Vince. Chris was indifferent. But Fratelli and Laura did not act the same, they seemed half amazed and half interested. This gave me the confidence I needed for the next move. I spoke up.
"You know what I bring to the table. Unrestricted access to the DMV databases, in multiple states. The ability to fake administration in two major bank chains. Police database access for the NYPD, and NY State Troopers. Finally, FBI watch list information. All of these systems controlled by my Amsterdam services, but with local servers stashed around the state. These all protected by SHA-2 1024-Bit Encryption. I'd love to see you try and break that. It takes me an hour just to authenticate. Double IP faking, and routing through California from an old friend of mine. You want access? Prove to me that you deserve it. Show me what you've got."
"James here thinks he can enter and challenge us." Kenneth looked surprised by this move.
"Don't be a fool. This isn't a challenge, it's a test. If you pass, then you'll become the 'Vicious 6'. If not, then I walk. By the way, I am not afraid of my name. So feel free to call me that if you'd like."
"How dare you come to this table and challenge us? What gives you the right?" Thats right, Ken. Good boy, back into that corner.
"I have the right. I have what you need. It's easy to tell because you would've done all of that if you had the ability. Lets see who agrees with me."
Laura, Fratelli and Chris raised their hands. Done. Checkmate for now.
"Fine. Everyone to their stations. Lets make this quick." Ken was infuriated, but defeated. For now.
And so the test began.
(End Chapter 4)
Friday, December 7, 2007
Chapter 3 "Enter, Vicious"
The doorway was dark, but strangely inviting. I walked inside and the door shut softly. I was greeted by a girl and immediately my research flashed into my head. Laura Hernandez. Bronx resident since birth, attended I.S. 128 for middle school, Lehman High School and then Westchester Community College for a semester before dropping out. A+ Student until that semester, lived on 2203 Watercrest Ave, Bronx NY 10465. No drivers license, but a very gifted hacker. 18 years old too. Same as me. The best of the "Vicious" if I had to say. Went by the name of 'Relinquished'. The only person within this circle to have no previous attention from any law enforcement agency.
"Hello Laura."
I stopped to examine the room for a second. Or maybe I was examining her. I sure don't remember much of the room. She was about 5'4, with long brunette hair. Slender too. But it was too dark to see her eyes. They probably would've given her away. Her dominican and italian mixture gave her olive skin. Her picture didn't give her curves justice.
"James. Nice to finally meet the man behind the Soul." With a sultry wink to top it all off, a well prepared welcome.
"May I come in?"
"Well, they say that vampires can only enter your home if you invite them in. It's too bad you're already in here." She reached for her ear for just a second, and seemed to be talking to herself. "Soul is here. Can he come down?"
She motioned towards the barely lighted staircase. I started to glance around the room to really get a gauge for what I was walking into. It was in essence an abandoned home, that they had hacked themselves into ownership of. Not an easy task, in my opinion. But a few simple changes on a person's will, and the house was theirs. I suppose it wasn't as hard as I originally thought. The stairs we're old and dusty hardwood. It seemed like they were going to give way underneath me, and I was cautious. Ironically, more cautious than when I traversed the icy stairs at my own home.
I looked around the curve of the spiral staircase to see a surprising sight. The room was bright with natural light lamps. The windows we're boarded up with plywood, eerily almost. The room felt warm, but I wasn't planning on removing my jacket. My boots were greeted by a plush blue rug. The basement of that old house, was surprizingly spacious. Each operator had quite a good amount of room in their favor, not to mention the assortment of equipment on the opposite side of the room. I saw GPS systems, cell phone jammers, Police scanners, a computer dedicated to Front Door Video. I could go on and on. There were various other systems set up, with 5 24' inch Samsung screens set up across 5 desks. I saw different prompts flashing on the screens. Activities no doubt related to our operation. Each desk was it's own design, one aluminum, the other pressed wood, one was even glass panes. Quite an unexpected sight indeed. These were no ordinary people. The 6th was unoccupied, a glass pane suspended on a brushed aluminum frame.
My eyes met with each different operator, and my photographic memory did not fail me. There were 3 out of the 6 members looking back at me. Closest to me, Vince Band. High school drop out from New Jersey. He is the definition of steroid abusing guido. Left his mom when he was 18, currently 20. He was an only child, parents divorced and he chose his mother. Smart kid, but just too cocky. He got caught while hacking into a bank, when he was 17. Scraped by with 100 hours community service. Extremely light punishment considering. He goes by the name of 'Band Aid', surprisingly clever. Next in the row, Chris Mohrayhey. 5'9, Dirty blonde hair, dark brown eyes. Formerly acne ridden face. He worked the books for a large chain lighting shop in Texas, and altered the money system to allow himself a piece of each transaction. Such an overplayed move for someone of his intelligence. He was caught and served 2 years in prison as an adult from 18 to 20. Parents separated shortly after his encounter with the law, he blames himself and since then has not stepped out of line. His father moved to New york, specifically Hudson Valley. It took a lot of coaxing to get him here tonight. I gave his profile a bit of extra attention because of the car he drives. Specifically a 2005 Audi A6. You'd be surprised what kind of information your bank statements can give away about you. I was jealous of his car, but not his attitude. He is due off of his probation in 6 months if his good behavior continues. I don't have to point out the irony in that too do I? Goes by the name 'Moray Eel'. I would've expected better from my 22 year old elder.
"Vince.. Chris.. Good to see you."
"Hey Soul." (They didn't do their homework, tsk tsk.)
I did save the best for last, of course. Kenneth Mason, otherwise known as 'Concrete'. On the FBI watch list because of certain black-hole activities. 19 year old child prodigy. Worked at a Data Centre in Ottawa for a year before he saved enough money to move to the U.S. He wrote a revision of the NetSky virus that I still keep stored on my hard drive, very destructive. He still highly employed by a data filtering company that runs out of NYC. I can't imagine what he's done to them. If I am an angel, then he would defiantly be a demon. Of course, at this time I saw him as a friend. I was blind. He gave me a wave to come and sit next to him. As I approached his desk, I examined it. Two computers, both externally water cooled, probably toting "stolen" quad core processors. He was moving fast through command line interfaces, sending and receiving feedback. He paused his work for a moment, and removed his headset.
"Nice to see you James. I'm glad you had the balls to show. How do you like the setup down here?"
"Pretty decent. Those antennae are jacking cell information huh?"
"Someone knows their hardware, then again I should've expected this from you Soul."
"Too bad I forgot my cell at home, Ken."
"Don't call me that."
"I'll keep that in mind. So, what's the uplink down here?"
"Satellite direct in good old Mama Band's name of course."
"Oh how nice. That explains how he only got off with 100 hours community service."
"We're still waiting on our last member..."
"...Gino Frattelli correct?"
"Yes."
"Where does he fit in here, all of us have.. experience. He does not have any."
"Gino is our equipment guy. You see all that jamming equipment? Yeah, stolen from an evidence locker actually."
"Ah. Nice. So the question I have on my mind, is simply what are we doing here?"
"Once all of us are here, we'll start our little meeting."
I paused from our conversation for a moment to glance around the room. My new friend Vince was snorting a line of white powder off of a mirror. I shudder to the thought that he has or had any credibility at all. He also broke the golden rule. Never break more than one law at once. Then again, this basement broke at least 50 per occupant. I laughed to myself. I can't even think of what could've happened to me had my instincts been wrong about this place, these people. Maybe I should've listened. I heard movement upstairs, and the sound of muffled voices. Our last member had arrived.
"Hello Laura."
I stopped to examine the room for a second. Or maybe I was examining her. I sure don't remember much of the room. She was about 5'4, with long brunette hair. Slender too. But it was too dark to see her eyes. They probably would've given her away. Her dominican and italian mixture gave her olive skin. Her picture didn't give her curves justice.
"James. Nice to finally meet the man behind the Soul." With a sultry wink to top it all off, a well prepared welcome.
"May I come in?"
"Well, they say that vampires can only enter your home if you invite them in. It's too bad you're already in here." She reached for her ear for just a second, and seemed to be talking to herself. "Soul is here. Can he come down?"
She motioned towards the barely lighted staircase. I started to glance around the room to really get a gauge for what I was walking into. It was in essence an abandoned home, that they had hacked themselves into ownership of. Not an easy task, in my opinion. But a few simple changes on a person's will, and the house was theirs. I suppose it wasn't as hard as I originally thought. The stairs we're old and dusty hardwood. It seemed like they were going to give way underneath me, and I was cautious. Ironically, more cautious than when I traversed the icy stairs at my own home.
I looked around the curve of the spiral staircase to see a surprising sight. The room was bright with natural light lamps. The windows we're boarded up with plywood, eerily almost. The room felt warm, but I wasn't planning on removing my jacket. My boots were greeted by a plush blue rug. The basement of that old house, was surprizingly spacious. Each operator had quite a good amount of room in their favor, not to mention the assortment of equipment on the opposite side of the room. I saw GPS systems, cell phone jammers, Police scanners, a computer dedicated to Front Door Video. I could go on and on. There were various other systems set up, with 5 24' inch Samsung screens set up across 5 desks. I saw different prompts flashing on the screens. Activities no doubt related to our operation. Each desk was it's own design, one aluminum, the other pressed wood, one was even glass panes. Quite an unexpected sight indeed. These were no ordinary people. The 6th was unoccupied, a glass pane suspended on a brushed aluminum frame.
My eyes met with each different operator, and my photographic memory did not fail me. There were 3 out of the 6 members looking back at me. Closest to me, Vince Band. High school drop out from New Jersey. He is the definition of steroid abusing guido. Left his mom when he was 18, currently 20. He was an only child, parents divorced and he chose his mother. Smart kid, but just too cocky. He got caught while hacking into a bank, when he was 17. Scraped by with 100 hours community service. Extremely light punishment considering. He goes by the name of 'Band Aid', surprisingly clever. Next in the row, Chris Mohrayhey. 5'9, Dirty blonde hair, dark brown eyes. Formerly acne ridden face. He worked the books for a large chain lighting shop in Texas, and altered the money system to allow himself a piece of each transaction. Such an overplayed move for someone of his intelligence. He was caught and served 2 years in prison as an adult from 18 to 20. Parents separated shortly after his encounter with the law, he blames himself and since then has not stepped out of line. His father moved to New york, specifically Hudson Valley. It took a lot of coaxing to get him here tonight. I gave his profile a bit of extra attention because of the car he drives. Specifically a 2005 Audi A6. You'd be surprised what kind of information your bank statements can give away about you. I was jealous of his car, but not his attitude. He is due off of his probation in 6 months if his good behavior continues. I don't have to point out the irony in that too do I? Goes by the name 'Moray Eel'. I would've expected better from my 22 year old elder.
"Vince.. Chris.. Good to see you."
"Hey Soul." (They didn't do their homework, tsk tsk.)
I did save the best for last, of course. Kenneth Mason, otherwise known as 'Concrete'. On the FBI watch list because of certain black-hole activities. 19 year old child prodigy. Worked at a Data Centre in Ottawa for a year before he saved enough money to move to the U.S. He wrote a revision of the NetSky virus that I still keep stored on my hard drive, very destructive. He still highly employed by a data filtering company that runs out of NYC. I can't imagine what he's done to them. If I am an angel, then he would defiantly be a demon. Of course, at this time I saw him as a friend. I was blind. He gave me a wave to come and sit next to him. As I approached his desk, I examined it. Two computers, both externally water cooled, probably toting "stolen" quad core processors. He was moving fast through command line interfaces, sending and receiving feedback. He paused his work for a moment, and removed his headset.
"Nice to see you James. I'm glad you had the balls to show. How do you like the setup down here?"
"Pretty decent. Those antennae are jacking cell information huh?"
"Someone knows their hardware, then again I should've expected this from you Soul."
"Too bad I forgot my cell at home, Ken."
"Don't call me that."
"I'll keep that in mind. So, what's the uplink down here?"
"Satellite direct in good old Mama Band's name of course."
"Oh how nice. That explains how he only got off with 100 hours community service."
"We're still waiting on our last member..."
"...Gino Frattelli correct?"
"Yes."
"Where does he fit in here, all of us have.. experience. He does not have any."
"Gino is our equipment guy. You see all that jamming equipment? Yeah, stolen from an evidence locker actually."
"Ah. Nice. So the question I have on my mind, is simply what are we doing here?"
"Once all of us are here, we'll start our little meeting."
I paused from our conversation for a moment to glance around the room. My new friend Vince was snorting a line of white powder off of a mirror. I shudder to the thought that he has or had any credibility at all. He also broke the golden rule. Never break more than one law at once. Then again, this basement broke at least 50 per occupant. I laughed to myself. I can't even think of what could've happened to me had my instincts been wrong about this place, these people. Maybe I should've listened. I heard movement upstairs, and the sound of muffled voices. Our last member had arrived.
Chapter 2 "The House"
"Ahhh.." I sighed out loud to myself as the vigorous guitar of Spineshank blasted from my cars humble speakers.
My car picked up pace quickly, after all I made it that way. I quickly reached 90 miles an hour. 100 came quicker. Trees blurred in my peripheral vision. 110 felt more like time was slowing for me. The adrenaline coursing in my veins raised my heart rate, while I gripped the steering wheel tighter with each passing second. 120 and seconds passed like hours. My car started to spin before I even began to realize it. The blurring trees became clear as I hurtled toward them. I had no time to think, no time to react or even get a word in edgewise. Time stopped for a split second, before I was obliterated by the tree. "He was going over 100 miles an hour, on an icy road." The papers would say. "There was nothing left of him." I blinked, and continued down the highway at blistering speed. It's too bad it was all in my head.
"Burn Baby, Burn.. Strung out on a wire" I sang loudly as I flew down the Hutch. No cops tonight, I thought to myself. Free to roam at whatever speed I please. Bullet-Proof skin was blaring out of my speakers and as always I found it ironic. I felt invincible. I reached my exit as the song finished and downshifted to keep from losing control. This part of the Bronx was just as equally desolate as my own hometown. Again, the comfort of the loneliness returned. I reached the destination street with ease, thanks to my memory of this area. I passed by the house, "350 Lafayette Ave... Welcome home." My car responded to my sarcasm with a reminder that I was low on brake fluid. "Yes yes, Don't worry I'll feed you later. I promise."
I parked on Mayflower, 4 blocks away. The last thing I wanted was these people to have was my license plate number and a profile of my car. I shut off my cell phone, stashed my wallet and house keys. I removed the fake identification I had freshly laminated the night before. "Enter... James Agrusa." My name that I had created from my grandfather and grandmother. They would be proud of me, I'm sure. Bootlegging a Massachusetts ID was too easy with the right tools. I admired my handiwork. I also armed myself with a small pocketknife. It would be unwise to come unarmed. I hid my iPod and 7 inch screen. No use drawing unneeded attention from petty thieves.
The cold welcomed me back into it's open arms, as I left my car. The click indicated all of my doors were locked. I stashed my car keys up underneath the chassis of my car. No reason to even give any hints that I even had a car at all. My walk was quick and purposeful as I strode towards "the house" I would come to call it. I memorized my surroundings as I passed. Mentally saving every picture of every detail. Overlooking something important could cost me too much.
This somewhat old, very box-like house sat 3 houses from the corner of this peculiar block. The house reminded me of a real life sandcastle. There were 6 windows, not including the back of the house that I could not see. It was an off-white with yellow rims around the windows. It had a flat roof, with two possible exit points. And no fire escape, which meant it was a single family house. It had a black front door, with a large deadbolt. The steps were ironically the same dull gray that I had seen not 15 minutes ago when I left my house. The lights were off in the house, and I felt singular standing there atop those steps. I searched for activity in the windows, almost desperately. Without even motioning for the doorbell, or any sort of indication of my presence. I stood there, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I heard sounds behind the door. The large black door creaked as it swung open.
(End Chapter 2)
My car picked up pace quickly, after all I made it that way. I quickly reached 90 miles an hour. 100 came quicker. Trees blurred in my peripheral vision. 110 felt more like time was slowing for me. The adrenaline coursing in my veins raised my heart rate, while I gripped the steering wheel tighter with each passing second. 120 and seconds passed like hours. My car started to spin before I even began to realize it. The blurring trees became clear as I hurtled toward them. I had no time to think, no time to react or even get a word in edgewise. Time stopped for a split second, before I was obliterated by the tree. "He was going over 100 miles an hour, on an icy road." The papers would say. "There was nothing left of him." I blinked, and continued down the highway at blistering speed. It's too bad it was all in my head.
"Burn Baby, Burn.. Strung out on a wire" I sang loudly as I flew down the Hutch. No cops tonight, I thought to myself. Free to roam at whatever speed I please. Bullet-Proof skin was blaring out of my speakers and as always I found it ironic. I felt invincible. I reached my exit as the song finished and downshifted to keep from losing control. This part of the Bronx was just as equally desolate as my own hometown. Again, the comfort of the loneliness returned. I reached the destination street with ease, thanks to my memory of this area. I passed by the house, "350 Lafayette Ave... Welcome home." My car responded to my sarcasm with a reminder that I was low on brake fluid. "Yes yes, Don't worry I'll feed you later. I promise."
I parked on Mayflower, 4 blocks away. The last thing I wanted was these people to have was my license plate number and a profile of my car. I shut off my cell phone, stashed my wallet and house keys. I removed the fake identification I had freshly laminated the night before. "Enter... James Agrusa." My name that I had created from my grandfather and grandmother. They would be proud of me, I'm sure. Bootlegging a Massachusetts ID was too easy with the right tools. I admired my handiwork. I also armed myself with a small pocketknife. It would be unwise to come unarmed. I hid my iPod and 7 inch screen. No use drawing unneeded attention from petty thieves.
The cold welcomed me back into it's open arms, as I left my car. The click indicated all of my doors were locked. I stashed my car keys up underneath the chassis of my car. No reason to even give any hints that I even had a car at all. My walk was quick and purposeful as I strode towards "the house" I would come to call it. I memorized my surroundings as I passed. Mentally saving every picture of every detail. Overlooking something important could cost me too much.
This somewhat old, very box-like house sat 3 houses from the corner of this peculiar block. The house reminded me of a real life sandcastle. There were 6 windows, not including the back of the house that I could not see. It was an off-white with yellow rims around the windows. It had a flat roof, with two possible exit points. And no fire escape, which meant it was a single family house. It had a black front door, with a large deadbolt. The steps were ironically the same dull gray that I had seen not 15 minutes ago when I left my house. The lights were off in the house, and I felt singular standing there atop those steps. I searched for activity in the windows, almost desperately. Without even motioning for the doorbell, or any sort of indication of my presence. I stood there, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I heard sounds behind the door. The large black door creaked as it swung open.
(End Chapter 2)
Chapter 1 "Snowy Night"
"Life is beautiful when you're numb." I have this quote to say to myself, over and over again.
I remember the night that I found out what I really was, even to this very moment as vividly if it was happening right now.
It was 3:56AM, on a beautifully crisp Friday morning.
"I probably shouldn't be doing this." I said to myself, as I exited my house via my side door. I was greeted by the same solemn gray steps as when I entered earlier that night. This time though, they glistened in the streetlight, having a thin sheet of ice over them. In hindsight, this was the most beautiful foreshadowing I've ever seen. But I chose just to walk as normal, with the subconscious wish to die by broken neck. That wish did not come true that night, to my dismay. This night was pure winter, the epitome of beauty in my mind. It was silent except for the light breeze washing over the near leafless trees. Light crisp snowfall shined in the streetlight, covering the grass and ground. The air I could almost taste as it filled my lungs, cold but refreshing. My black boots crunched the snow as I made my way towards the large white object that was my car. The moon was high in the sky, clashing with the orange glow of the streetlights, completing the serenity of the night. Their silent war could not have been more comforting. In my car I found no refuge from the cold, but this wasn't what was seeking. The click of the key entering my ignition was so loud on this quiet night. I even felt remorse that my engine would have to break this amazing silence. And yet, my engine came to life immediately, purring as it warmed to operating temperature. For 15 years old, it still purred vivaciously.
"Off We go." I said to myself, and my car as I shifted from Park into Drive. The light snowfall removed itself from my vision almost immediately after I started to move. My lights guided my way off my street, and onto the adjacent Wolfs Lane. It was a desolate night, and the loneliness was comforting. My cabin temperature remained at it's original temperature and I had no intention of warming it. I could still see my breath floating in the air, lingering slightly.. as if it was waiting for something. My iPod had not immediately started to play, but abruptly reminded me of it's presence with the sound of a loud guitar riff. So much for the beautiful silence of the night. I made the turn onto the on-ramp of Hutchinson Parkway Southbound easily, and my fingers went to work on my iPod. I picked out my playlist, simply labeled "Burn Baby, Burn." Telling the story over again, just lets me realize how much irony there was in the air that night.
I remember the night that I found out what I really was, even to this very moment as vividly if it was happening right now.
It was 3:56AM, on a beautifully crisp Friday morning.
"I probably shouldn't be doing this." I said to myself, as I exited my house via my side door. I was greeted by the same solemn gray steps as when I entered earlier that night. This time though, they glistened in the streetlight, having a thin sheet of ice over them. In hindsight, this was the most beautiful foreshadowing I've ever seen. But I chose just to walk as normal, with the subconscious wish to die by broken neck. That wish did not come true that night, to my dismay. This night was pure winter, the epitome of beauty in my mind. It was silent except for the light breeze washing over the near leafless trees. Light crisp snowfall shined in the streetlight, covering the grass and ground. The air I could almost taste as it filled my lungs, cold but refreshing. My black boots crunched the snow as I made my way towards the large white object that was my car. The moon was high in the sky, clashing with the orange glow of the streetlights, completing the serenity of the night. Their silent war could not have been more comforting. In my car I found no refuge from the cold, but this wasn't what was seeking. The click of the key entering my ignition was so loud on this quiet night. I even felt remorse that my engine would have to break this amazing silence. And yet, my engine came to life immediately, purring as it warmed to operating temperature. For 15 years old, it still purred vivaciously.
"Off We go." I said to myself, and my car as I shifted from Park into Drive. The light snowfall removed itself from my vision almost immediately after I started to move. My lights guided my way off my street, and onto the adjacent Wolfs Lane. It was a desolate night, and the loneliness was comforting. My cabin temperature remained at it's original temperature and I had no intention of warming it. I could still see my breath floating in the air, lingering slightly.. as if it was waiting for something. My iPod had not immediately started to play, but abruptly reminded me of it's presence with the sound of a loud guitar riff. So much for the beautiful silence of the night. I made the turn onto the on-ramp of Hutchinson Parkway Southbound easily, and my fingers went to work on my iPod. I picked out my playlist, simply labeled "Burn Baby, Burn." Telling the story over again, just lets me realize how much irony there was in the air that night.
Nobody Knows Me.
Nobody really knows anybody, the undertone of human existence.
People take pride in knowing their friends, in being able to predict their actions, and reactions.
My pride, lies in everyone I know. I know they all have their monsters, living inside them.
Waiting, patiently. Waiting for that vulnerable point where they can unleash themselves.
It's beautiful, the human mind. It can't handle it's own consciousness, which is by far the most irony I've ever seen.
Us as a species, take pride in the fact that we have an upper level, but the irony is that we've lost touch with the lower levels.
Has nature forced us to adapt, and disregard these basic functions for advanced ones?
But then why are there still people that bring themselves back down?
Nobody really knows me, mainly because I don't know me.
And I love it.
It reminds me that I'm still alive, just for the simple fact that I'm an open ended equation. We are all open ended equations. For instance, I could get up right now (3:43AM) tear off all of my clothes, and run outside naked for as long as I pleased. Who is to tell me that I can't or won't do this? Nobody. The dangers, including cold, police activity and animals may keep a (sane) person from attempting such a feat. Who won't join me?
I'm constantly screaming on the inside.
I'll play out the situation in my head, where I get up, scream and run out of the room numerous times.
Wishing that it would be that easy to erase my mind into subtle bliss. I'm constantly at war with myself, every single minute.
Second guessing, and justifying things that I've done. I'm a terrible person, whether it be in my head, or otherwise. And I'm o.k. with all of that. I realize that after so many years of criticism, the only regret I have, is not finding what it really means to be alive sooner. I'm enjoying my open ended equation, while it's still there to enjoy, so tell me.. Are you?
I don't know you, and you don't know me.
But thats the best part, of knowing you.
People take pride in knowing their friends, in being able to predict their actions, and reactions.
My pride, lies in everyone I know. I know they all have their monsters, living inside them.
Waiting, patiently. Waiting for that vulnerable point where they can unleash themselves.
It's beautiful, the human mind. It can't handle it's own consciousness, which is by far the most irony I've ever seen.
Us as a species, take pride in the fact that we have an upper level, but the irony is that we've lost touch with the lower levels.
Has nature forced us to adapt, and disregard these basic functions for advanced ones?
But then why are there still people that bring themselves back down?
Nobody really knows me, mainly because I don't know me.
And I love it.
It reminds me that I'm still alive, just for the simple fact that I'm an open ended equation. We are all open ended equations. For instance, I could get up right now (3:43AM) tear off all of my clothes, and run outside naked for as long as I pleased. Who is to tell me that I can't or won't do this? Nobody. The dangers, including cold, police activity and animals may keep a (sane) person from attempting such a feat. Who won't join me?
I'm constantly screaming on the inside.
I'll play out the situation in my head, where I get up, scream and run out of the room numerous times.
Wishing that it would be that easy to erase my mind into subtle bliss. I'm constantly at war with myself, every single minute.
Second guessing, and justifying things that I've done. I'm a terrible person, whether it be in my head, or otherwise. And I'm o.k. with all of that. I realize that after so many years of criticism, the only regret I have, is not finding what it really means to be alive sooner. I'm enjoying my open ended equation, while it's still there to enjoy, so tell me.. Are you?
I don't know you, and you don't know me.
But thats the best part, of knowing you.
I am too controlled for that... Maybe.
Ever do something that you regret?
No doubt the answer to that question is yes. Everybody has.
But, what if it was the opposite?
What if you're so calculating that you never really do something you regret?
You'd almost desire to push yourself to take that step. To examine what is holding you back.
(I took you home.. Set you on the glass.)
A thirst to be selfish and impulsive. The harbinger of your fall from perfection.
(I pulled off your wings, and I laughed.)
Like there is something there, than you are missing. Some element that you have forsaken, reluctantly.
(I look at the cross.. Than I look away.)
But at the same time, you forsake your own morals by yearning for this.. Change.
(I give you the gun... Blow me away.)
You suffer the consequences of your actions, as everyone does. Beautiful consequences, disguised as monsters.
(Now you feel, so alive.)
I'm too controlled for that.
Just too calculating.
Just too smart.
Is it really lying to yourself if you know the truth anyway?
Inside, we are all out of control.
We are all burning, in so many directions.
Look into my eyes, into the my firestorm.
But don't come too close.
Don't fuel my fire.
No doubt the answer to that question is yes. Everybody has.
But, what if it was the opposite?
What if you're so calculating that you never really do something you regret?
You'd almost desire to push yourself to take that step. To examine what is holding you back.
(I took you home.. Set you on the glass.)
A thirst to be selfish and impulsive. The harbinger of your fall from perfection.
(I pulled off your wings, and I laughed.)
Like there is something there, than you are missing. Some element that you have forsaken, reluctantly.
(I look at the cross.. Than I look away.)
But at the same time, you forsake your own morals by yearning for this.. Change.
(I give you the gun... Blow me away.)
You suffer the consequences of your actions, as everyone does. Beautiful consequences, disguised as monsters.
(Now you feel, so alive.)
I'm too controlled for that.
Just too calculating.
Just too smart.
Is it really lying to yourself if you know the truth anyway?
Inside, we are all out of control.
We are all burning, in so many directions.
Look into my eyes, into the my firestorm.
But don't come too close.
Don't fuel my fire.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Distracted.
I'm trying to think of happiness, as a straight feeling. But I just can't put my finger on it.
I'm trying to think of pure sadness, and thats pretty common. Easy to recreate. Something that I'm chained to.
I'm trying to think of why, instead of absolute happiness, there is only the feeling like I'm distracted from my sadness.
(Thanks T for this one, by the way.)
Like, there's always an undertone underneath my temporary insanity. (Happiness)
Because I never feel truly pure anymore. (Sadness.)
Always diluted, with some aftertaste. Constantly eating at my stature, at my decisions, at myself. Or what I think to be myself. (Happiness)
Too often I've second guessed myself because of this leash.. keeping me at close range. (Sadness.)
Because I'm afraid that breaking away from the leash, just means that my keeper comes to find me to punish me. (Happiness)
I want to know what you have to offer, world. Who, where, why, what you have to offer me. (Never)
I've wanted to all the tastes that everyone else seems to enjoy, just once. (Don't)
To feel young, and free. Before its too late. (Can't)
Please help me. Lead me. (No)
No? (Yes.)
But maybe I don't need them.
I've always been different.
Always been... something else.
Maybe for once I don't want to be treated like something else.
Maybe I'm just a shell filled with nothing.
Maybe I have no idea who I am, what I want and where I'm going?
I have no idea who I am, what I want and where I'm going.
And if thats o.k. with you, then thats o.k. with me.
I'm trying to think of pure sadness, and thats pretty common. Easy to recreate. Something that I'm chained to.
I'm trying to think of why, instead of absolute happiness, there is only the feeling like I'm distracted from my sadness.
(Thanks T for this one, by the way.)
Like, there's always an undertone underneath my temporary insanity. (Happiness)
Because I never feel truly pure anymore. (Sadness.)
Always diluted, with some aftertaste. Constantly eating at my stature, at my decisions, at myself. Or what I think to be myself. (Happiness)
Too often I've second guessed myself because of this leash.. keeping me at close range. (Sadness.)
Because I'm afraid that breaking away from the leash, just means that my keeper comes to find me to punish me. (Happiness)
I want to know what you have to offer, world. Who, where, why, what you have to offer me. (Never)
I've wanted to all the tastes that everyone else seems to enjoy, just once. (Don't)
To feel young, and free. Before its too late. (Can't)
Please help me. Lead me. (No)
No? (Yes.)
But maybe I don't need them.
I've always been different.
Always been... something else.
Maybe for once I don't want to be treated like something else.
Maybe I'm just a shell filled with nothing.
Maybe I have no idea who I am, what I want and where I'm going?
I have no idea who I am, what I want and where I'm going.
And if thats o.k. with you, then thats o.k. with me.
Old Soul.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
Long after others have fallen asleep.
But, right before the day starts anew.
I have watched autumn leaves fall...
Ticking time away, seconds.. one by one falling away.
I have bathed in the seconds.. Letting then rain over me.
Fall over me.. Fall through me.
I have stood alone in the cold. Bathing in the falling seconds of my life.
Cold, but content. Almost as if the cold was my warmth.
My winter serenity comforts me.
I have stood still.. Within this timeless metaphor.
Within the timeless metaphor that I have built my life around.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
With eyes open wide to the beautiful peace that I have found.
Waiting right outside my front door.
The moon lighting the trees brightly through their yellow leaves..
In a black sky, not void of stars.
The leaves softly falling around and onto me.
The vivid colors of the sea of leaves I am standing in.
The light brisk winter air touches my face.. My entire body.
Touching my heart.. igniting my memory.
Awakening the side of me that I try and hide.
Solemn, serene, silent, content but lonely.
My old soul, so to speak.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
And there, I am someone new.
I am just myself.
Quietly.
Long after others have fallen asleep.
But, right before the day starts anew.
I have watched autumn leaves fall...
Ticking time away, seconds.. one by one falling away.
I have bathed in the seconds.. Letting then rain over me.
Fall over me.. Fall through me.
I have stood alone in the cold. Bathing in the falling seconds of my life.
Cold, but content. Almost as if the cold was my warmth.
My winter serenity comforts me.
I have stood still.. Within this timeless metaphor.
Within the timeless metaphor that I have built my life around.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
With eyes open wide to the beautiful peace that I have found.
Waiting right outside my front door.
The moon lighting the trees brightly through their yellow leaves..
In a black sky, not void of stars.
The leaves softly falling around and onto me.
The vivid colors of the sea of leaves I am standing in.
The light brisk winter air touches my face.. My entire body.
Touching my heart.. igniting my memory.
Awakening the side of me that I try and hide.
Solemn, serene, silent, content but lonely.
My old soul, so to speak.
I have stood at the edge of reality.
And there, I am someone new.
I am just myself.
Quietly.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Similarities.
In my short experience, everyone is exactly the same.
We all play games with each other.
Titillating each other with different mannerisims and conduct.
I'd to say that I'm as real as my own touch.
But that theory alone fails to adequately describe how touch feels and how real it is.
Next time you feel sad, step back from yourself.
For just a moment, and realize that sadness; (or any emotion for that matter) is just a part of the game.
I'm not sure if I'm the only one who constantly feels like their inside a shell.
Google -- Cold And Bitter Outlook On Everything.
(You won't find anything, but if I think this should pop up first.)
Each person has a code of behavior that is their... key.
Key to making them vulnerable, to triggering some sort of reaction -- This key is defined early in life.
Whether it be fixation on a certain stereotype situation, or parental guidence, it's predefined.
This is why they say that opposites attract, the behavioral reflection of both of the beings is predefining.
Some people just can't conform to the standards of one another, or are just too stupid.
Too often it is the latter, which is slightly disappointing, but somehow expected.
The dynamics to the system are quite bemusing at cursory glance.
It's scary how so many people can work and respond off each other.
And sometimes it's completely inexplicable how peoples dynamics change.
It's overwhelming trying to comprehend the difference instances.
My question, that I've been saving is simply, Why bother?
It seems to me that all of this is just complication on top of base thoughts.
It makes incredibly more sense to stick to being alone then subjecting yourself to such madness.
And yet we constantly fall into the same patterns constantly.
I'd love to say that I haven't or I don't, since I'm indignant towards it.
But it's happened to me time and time again.
I just don't get it.
We all play games with each other.
Titillating each other with different mannerisims and conduct.
I'd to say that I'm as real as my own touch.
But that theory alone fails to adequately describe how touch feels and how real it is.
Next time you feel sad, step back from yourself.
For just a moment, and realize that sadness; (or any emotion for that matter) is just a part of the game.
I'm not sure if I'm the only one who constantly feels like their inside a shell.
Google -- Cold And Bitter Outlook On Everything.
(You won't find anything, but if I think this should pop up first.)
Each person has a code of behavior that is their... key.
Key to making them vulnerable, to triggering some sort of reaction -- This key is defined early in life.
Whether it be fixation on a certain stereotype situation, or parental guidence, it's predefined.
This is why they say that opposites attract, the behavioral reflection of both of the beings is predefining.
Some people just can't conform to the standards of one another, or are just too stupid.
Too often it is the latter, which is slightly disappointing, but somehow expected.
The dynamics to the system are quite bemusing at cursory glance.
It's scary how so many people can work and respond off each other.
And sometimes it's completely inexplicable how peoples dynamics change.
It's overwhelming trying to comprehend the difference instances.
My question, that I've been saving is simply, Why bother?
It seems to me that all of this is just complication on top of base thoughts.
It makes incredibly more sense to stick to being alone then subjecting yourself to such madness.
And yet we constantly fall into the same patterns constantly.
I'd love to say that I haven't or I don't, since I'm indignant towards it.
But it's happened to me time and time again.
I just don't get it.
Sleepless.
The irony of sweet caress, is that nothing truly matters.
Moments turn to hours to quickly, destroying those futile seconds.
But there is a hurricane behind those eyes.
Mesmerizing as they are, I can see slightly deeper.
Only slightly, as your mystery proceeds you.
But just enough to glance at that terrible storm.
"No one is really happy alone..."
Well, some people are I suppose. But being alone is really just a state of mind. Since being with someone else is an extension of their state of mind to yours.
I've come to a sad realization in these passing minutes.
That all attempts for forestall the change into my father have failed.
And that in the end I'm just as emotionally detached.
Not as you might believe that means.
I understand emotions, I have for a long time.
I emulate them perfectly.
Nothing really matters, is a quote that defines my character.
All moments, if you step back from yourself for a moment,
Really are just temporary. So why attach complication?
I wish somebody really knew me.
So they could tell me who I am.
Or who I was.
Or anything at all.
Take my soul away.
Moments turn to hours to quickly, destroying those futile seconds.
But there is a hurricane behind those eyes.
Mesmerizing as they are, I can see slightly deeper.
Only slightly, as your mystery proceeds you.
But just enough to glance at that terrible storm.
"No one is really happy alone..."
Well, some people are I suppose. But being alone is really just a state of mind. Since being with someone else is an extension of their state of mind to yours.
I've come to a sad realization in these passing minutes.
That all attempts for forestall the change into my father have failed.
And that in the end I'm just as emotionally detached.
Not as you might believe that means.
I understand emotions, I have for a long time.
I emulate them perfectly.
Nothing really matters, is a quote that defines my character.
All moments, if you step back from yourself for a moment,
Really are just temporary. So why attach complication?
I wish somebody really knew me.
So they could tell me who I am.
Or who I was.
Or anything at all.
Take my soul away.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
My demons and angels constantly wage war upon each other.
Some elders, others are newborn. They all have the same significance.
I've always been trapped square in the middle of this war. Lost and confused.
Nothing is ever really clear cut, and everything falls in the overlap.
(too tired to continue for now.)
Some elders, others are newborn. They all have the same significance.
I've always been trapped square in the middle of this war. Lost and confused.
Nothing is ever really clear cut, and everything falls in the overlap.
(too tired to continue for now.)
Friday, November 9, 2007
Monsters.
We are the monsters that live in your head.
That gnaw on your thoughts.
That ravage the integrity of your decision.
We are the plague that infests the beauty of your life.
Corrupting everything about you.
Taking the emptiness and stretching it until it encompasses you.
We are, we are the monsters.
Sharp fangs, claws, red eyes.
We are the red eye behind your blue eyes.
That comes out only in still frame.
We are just under the skin,
Waiting for a paper cut release.
We are everything you wished you weren't,
You wished you didn't, You wished you couldn't,
We are your regret, and sorrow, and dissatisfaction.
We are.
We are.
Your monsters and you can't hold us back anymore.
That gnaw on your thoughts.
That ravage the integrity of your decision.
We are the plague that infests the beauty of your life.
Corrupting everything about you.
Taking the emptiness and stretching it until it encompasses you.
We are, we are the monsters.
Sharp fangs, claws, red eyes.
We are the red eye behind your blue eyes.
That comes out only in still frame.
We are just under the skin,
Waiting for a paper cut release.
We are everything you wished you weren't,
You wished you didn't, You wished you couldn't,
We are your regret, and sorrow, and dissatisfaction.
We are.
We are.
Your monsters and you can't hold us back anymore.
Ghost Trails.
The beautiful part about being emotionally void is the ability to answer simply with "fine" whenever someone asks you if everything is o.k. and mean it.
They say that trauma is an everlasting imprint on your personality. It'll eventually start to shape it, if you're put through enough.
Have you ever looked through a camera when it had ghost trails turned on?
Everything leaves a light path. Well, lately thats what I see everything as. Just looking around, glancing around the room. Everything is leaving trails across my mind.
Kind of like the image is echoing, but slightly more in depth.
They call it, subliminal suicide. You participate in an activity that is extremely hazardous to your heath, because there is some part of you that wishes for death.
I spend so much time in my head, that it's getting harder and harder to focus on things. It's really quite a plague on my life. Having a photographic memory, means reliving every single horror story that you've witnessed every second that you allow it to happen. It means when everyone else's mind is quiet and asleep, yours is cranking away playing backwards and rewinding. It means insomnia. Permanently. It's a curse.
Everything burns a little brighter when you're dying.
They say that trauma is an everlasting imprint on your personality. It'll eventually start to shape it, if you're put through enough.
Have you ever looked through a camera when it had ghost trails turned on?
Everything leaves a light path. Well, lately thats what I see everything as. Just looking around, glancing around the room. Everything is leaving trails across my mind.
Kind of like the image is echoing, but slightly more in depth.
They call it, subliminal suicide. You participate in an activity that is extremely hazardous to your heath, because there is some part of you that wishes for death.
I spend so much time in my head, that it's getting harder and harder to focus on things. It's really quite a plague on my life. Having a photographic memory, means reliving every single horror story that you've witnessed every second that you allow it to happen. It means when everyone else's mind is quiet and asleep, yours is cranking away playing backwards and rewinding. It means insomnia. Permanently. It's a curse.
Everything burns a little brighter when you're dying.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Disconnected.
I've been narrating my own life for a long time.
Kind of like I've been going through the motions, but not quite there.
Like, I'm reading my own story from a book. Only with the most vivid realism no book could quite capture.
Come to think of it... Even as a child of 6. Surrounded by a ring of electronic parts. Wires. Batteries. Light bulbs. Microchips.
As I did things, in my "safe haven" I guess I'll call it, I would say everything I did, like I was telling a story.
For as long as I can remember, I always felt like their were two people in my head. Not in a schizophrenic manor though. My studies of psychology have thought me well I suppose. More as, like I said. One person was making the decisions, and the other was simply watching and narrating.
Everyone questions behavior. It's a part of being human. But their are certain activities in which people just do not question. They accept them as what they are, without further insight.
I have always felt disconnected from most other people because of this. Felt like the neurotic behavior that shares a common thread in everyone was slowly driving me off the edge. That each and every moment of it that I endure slowly eats away at my superiority. That some way, I had become infected by instinct. Something I swore to myself a long time ago, never to let take over.
--Instinct is something that lives inside us all. Base. Impulsive. No third layer thought process comprehends the full extent of instinct simply because it cannot understand the actions it indirectly poses. If the third layer fails, it simply defaults back to the base code. Also known as instinct. Thought evolution, by definition is the movement of a third layer thought process into base level thinking. Hence, completely modifying those "instincts" to call for more than just impulse. Making the host, smarter. --
If you watch people close enough, you can watch this actually take place. Interesting.
So. What's at the top of your brain?
Kind of like I've been going through the motions, but not quite there.
Like, I'm reading my own story from a book. Only with the most vivid realism no book could quite capture.
Come to think of it... Even as a child of 6. Surrounded by a ring of electronic parts. Wires. Batteries. Light bulbs. Microchips.
As I did things, in my "safe haven" I guess I'll call it, I would say everything I did, like I was telling a story.
For as long as I can remember, I always felt like their were two people in my head. Not in a schizophrenic manor though. My studies of psychology have thought me well I suppose. More as, like I said. One person was making the decisions, and the other was simply watching and narrating.
Everyone questions behavior. It's a part of being human. But their are certain activities in which people just do not question. They accept them as what they are, without further insight.
I have always felt disconnected from most other people because of this. Felt like the neurotic behavior that shares a common thread in everyone was slowly driving me off the edge. That each and every moment of it that I endure slowly eats away at my superiority. That some way, I had become infected by instinct. Something I swore to myself a long time ago, never to let take over.
--Instinct is something that lives inside us all. Base. Impulsive. No third layer thought process comprehends the full extent of instinct simply because it cannot understand the actions it indirectly poses. If the third layer fails, it simply defaults back to the base code. Also known as instinct. Thought evolution, by definition is the movement of a third layer thought process into base level thinking. Hence, completely modifying those "instincts" to call for more than just impulse. Making the host, smarter. --
If you watch people close enough, you can watch this actually take place. Interesting.
So. What's at the top of your brain?
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Ending October. Starting November.
Tonight was a tough night to pick a topic for.
Too many things circling around in my head to really get anything truly right. But I'll try anyway.
Your weakness is my weakness.
Destruction in it's existence.
It eats at the underlying process of my life.
Destroying all that seems right.
I've watched you change.
Your ressurection out of your own impending death,
Always seemed so iminent.
Your own grave that you dug yourself.
And you were so ready to fill with your own flesh.
I'm tired of filling this hole with concrete.
And then watching, helplessly, as you blow it all away.
I've got the same scars.
Most hidden below the surface of my skin.
I wish all of you could see them. But theres too many, too complicated to explain.
I've been a savior for too many years. Don't be so vain.
I'm not Anybody's angel. Though I was yours.
I don't know who I am anymore.
Though I never really have.
I think thats the problem.
I've felt like No One for as long as I can remember.
It makes it really hard to realize that I just might be someone after all.
Don't you get it?
Set me free. Just becareful when you do.
I stood there.
At two seperate times.
I watched life get thrown away.
TOO MANY TIMES.
More than zero.
You'd think once was enough?
That I didn't learn the lessons of life.
Twice times the charm I suppose.
And how dare you of all people?
Of every single person on the planet?
The closest of close to myself.
And somehow that is better?
All that was, was selfish.
Just like the first time.
The beautiful irony that I never wanted to admit.
Selfish?
I miss you both.
I miss No One Formerly James.
I guess October really is the happiest time of year.
Too many things circling around in my head to really get anything truly right. But I'll try anyway.
Your weakness is my weakness.
Destruction in it's existence.
It eats at the underlying process of my life.
Destroying all that seems right.
I've watched you change.
Your ressurection out of your own impending death,
Always seemed so iminent.
Your own grave that you dug yourself.
And you were so ready to fill with your own flesh.
I'm tired of filling this hole with concrete.
And then watching, helplessly, as you blow it all away.
I've got the same scars.
Most hidden below the surface of my skin.
I wish all of you could see them. But theres too many, too complicated to explain.
I've been a savior for too many years. Don't be so vain.
I'm not Anybody's angel. Though I was yours.
I don't know who I am anymore.
Though I never really have.
I think thats the problem.
I've felt like No One for as long as I can remember.
It makes it really hard to realize that I just might be someone after all.
Don't you get it?
Set me free. Just becareful when you do.
I stood there.
At two seperate times.
I watched life get thrown away.
TOO MANY TIMES.
More than zero.
You'd think once was enough?
That I didn't learn the lessons of life.
Twice times the charm I suppose.
And how dare you of all people?
Of every single person on the planet?
The closest of close to myself.
And somehow that is better?
All that was, was selfish.
Just like the first time.
The beautiful irony that I never wanted to admit.
Selfish?
I miss you both.
I miss No One Formerly James.
I guess October really is the happiest time of year.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Beautiful Sunset.
What a beautiful sunset.
Right by the sandy coastline.
Small homes line the narrow streets.
The tide is high tonight.
What a beautiful sunset.
Shining over the water.
It's reflection mesmerizes.
The engine revvs high and roars toward water.
It pierces the fence with ease.
And hurtles onto the beach.
Soaring with machine grace into the water.
The engine is quiet now.
The fallen beast's master sits quietly.
Accepting fates hijacked control.
Water has come to steal the air from his lungs.
His eyes peer upwards. Finally.
What a beautiful sunset.
Right by the sandy coastline.
Small homes line the narrow streets.
The tide is high tonight.
What a beautiful sunset.
Shining over the water.
It's reflection mesmerizes.
The engine revvs high and roars toward water.
It pierces the fence with ease.
And hurtles onto the beach.
Soaring with machine grace into the water.
The engine is quiet now.
The fallen beast's master sits quietly.
Accepting fates hijacked control.
Water has come to steal the air from his lungs.
His eyes peer upwards. Finally.
What a beautiful sunset.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Realistic Position.
Tomorrow, everybody dies.
Yes, not extremely likely. But imagine it.
Imagine that some intelligent life comes to earth. Sees everything wrecked.
And makes inferences and educated guesses (just as we might've done had it been us.)
Now, imagine. You are a becoming an exhibit in a museum.
They are going to put you in a "realistic position" or doing some sort of activity.
Whats your realistic position? What would you be doing or saying or anything?
Think about how much you do said activity. How big a part of your life it is.
Now try and think for a moment, what your life and you would be like without that
item/activity? Post your answers and then I'll post mine.
Yes, not extremely likely. But imagine it.
Imagine that some intelligent life comes to earth. Sees everything wrecked.
And makes inferences and educated guesses (just as we might've done had it been us.)
Now, imagine. You are a becoming an exhibit in a museum.
They are going to put you in a "realistic position" or doing some sort of activity.
Whats your realistic position? What would you be doing or saying or anything?
Think about how much you do said activity. How big a part of your life it is.
Now try and think for a moment, what your life and you would be like without that
item/activity? Post your answers and then I'll post mine.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
The difference is submininal.
Catch the irony, if you might. Of the world we live in.
Just take a breath and smell it, so to speak.
Watch things that you find to be normal, and see your own abnormality.
People don't realize themselves sometimes, something I've learned and has been very much reinforced.
They don't realize how smart people really are, or how stupid.
I couldn't tell you how many times my vacant expressions have let people shrug me off as a non-thinking head.
Thats wonderful and all, but sadly they were wrong and played right into my game.
It's better, in my very shallow opinon, to think of most things in life as simply a game.
Not the important stuff mind you, but the mind-tactfulness of everyday life is fun to play around with.
Really test if people seem to notice themselves, try and give them a wake up call.
Think about a subconsious action, and watch it get corrupted by the consious mind.
Test this on other people.
We're all really the same, and if so than this theory stands for everybody.
Now really pick your mind to realize that, if this is true... Is the consious mind where errors occur?
The subconsious mind is an area were exactness seems to always prevail.
The subconsious mind is the driving force in learning and pretty much any day to day action.
So, is it really the consious or unconsious mind that we are trying to teach?
Good question don't you think?
Just take a breath and smell it, so to speak.
Watch things that you find to be normal, and see your own abnormality.
People don't realize themselves sometimes, something I've learned and has been very much reinforced.
They don't realize how smart people really are, or how stupid.
I couldn't tell you how many times my vacant expressions have let people shrug me off as a non-thinking head.
Thats wonderful and all, but sadly they were wrong and played right into my game.
It's better, in my very shallow opinon, to think of most things in life as simply a game.
Not the important stuff mind you, but the mind-tactfulness of everyday life is fun to play around with.
Really test if people seem to notice themselves, try and give them a wake up call.
Think about a subconsious action, and watch it get corrupted by the consious mind.
Test this on other people.
We're all really the same, and if so than this theory stands for everybody.
Now really pick your mind to realize that, if this is true... Is the consious mind where errors occur?
The subconsious mind is an area were exactness seems to always prevail.
The subconsious mind is the driving force in learning and pretty much any day to day action.
So, is it really the consious or unconsious mind that we are trying to teach?
Good question don't you think?
Random Blather.
I sat for a long while with my I bar blinking in front of me.
Picking my brains to try and translate this music into words.
This music has been playing in my head, soothing shallow tones.
Just ones to keep me occupied when I'm doing a humdrum task, or bored.
I've been trying to translate this into words, so I can pass onto you the key to fufillment.
Is really just training your mind to do what it really wants.
I have a tendoncy of typing questionmarks at the end of my statements.
I have a tendoncy of dwelling too much on thought and a lot less on action.
I like to be called "Link" and "Old Soul" because they make me feel a little more like No One.
Picking my brains to try and translate this music into words.
This music has been playing in my head, soothing shallow tones.
Just ones to keep me occupied when I'm doing a humdrum task, or bored.
I've been trying to translate this into words, so I can pass onto you the key to fufillment.
Is really just training your mind to do what it really wants.
I have a tendoncy of typing questionmarks at the end of my statements.
I have a tendoncy of dwelling too much on thought and a lot less on action.
I like to be called "Link" and "Old Soul" because they make me feel a little more like No One.
Monday, October 1, 2007
I think you've got the sickness, I suggest you get it cured.
I think you've got the sickness, I suggest you get it cured.
I suggest you grab that bottle, and pop that pill.
I suggest, I enforce, I watchfully wait for your response.
How would you even know what the sickness is?
I don't see you exhibiting the symptoms yourself.
Or maybe thats just my imagination flashing before me.
I live my live, like the captain of a sinking ship.
I'll do whatever I can to live it to the very end.
I won't abandon, Not for anything.
Don't tell me that you know how my life has been.
Don't say it like everybody else has, telling me what's going on in my head.
You wouldn't know, I don't think you were there. Not at my pivotal moments. Never.
I've done the best to stay afloat in this world of doubt, lies, deceit and destruction.
Not that that means anything to you.
I'm pretty fucking content if you'd like to know.
So scribble that down on your notepad. And sign your name at the bottom.
And give me the exit I'll never take.
Some people need this door, but I don't.
I don't know if I ever will.
But I know I don't need it now.
Thanks for the offer.
Cured.
I suggest you grab that bottle, and pop that pill.
I suggest, I enforce, I watchfully wait for your response.
How would you even know what the sickness is?
I don't see you exhibiting the symptoms yourself.
Or maybe thats just my imagination flashing before me.
I live my live, like the captain of a sinking ship.
I'll do whatever I can to live it to the very end.
I won't abandon, Not for anything.
Don't tell me that you know how my life has been.
Don't say it like everybody else has, telling me what's going on in my head.
You wouldn't know, I don't think you were there. Not at my pivotal moments. Never.
I've done the best to stay afloat in this world of doubt, lies, deceit and destruction.
Not that that means anything to you.
I'm pretty fucking content if you'd like to know.
So scribble that down on your notepad. And sign your name at the bottom.
And give me the exit I'll never take.
Some people need this door, but I don't.
I don't know if I ever will.
But I know I don't need it now.
Thanks for the offer.
Cured.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
God? Where has my inner voice gone?
You know that voice that narrates situations to you inside your head?
It's defiantly your own voice, usually satisfying or verifying your actions.
When you're alone, with people, or neither. (Good luck pulling that one off.) But regardless, it's always there. For some people it's subconscious. For others, it's a little closer to the surface. Usually, you'll hear what you wouldn't want to say, or perhaps just for the novelty of the situation; Randomness.
One day it's there, the other it's gone.
(UNFINISHED DUE TO DISTRACTION.)
It's defiantly your own voice, usually satisfying or verifying your actions.
When you're alone, with people, or neither. (Good luck pulling that one off.) But regardless, it's always there. For some people it's subconscious. For others, it's a little closer to the surface. Usually, you'll hear what you wouldn't want to say, or perhaps just for the novelty of the situation; Randomness.
One day it's there, the other it's gone.
(UNFINISHED DUE TO DISTRACTION.)
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Apostrophe.
They say insomnia will drive you crazy.
I believe that without a doubt in my mind.
More and more I find myself staring into the digital numbers 4:59AM.
I'm a slave to my own thoughts, as most insomniacs are.
My heart pounds inside my chest as more ideas enter my brain.
Waves and waves up them. Compelling me to get back out of bed and begin.
Time is of no worth in my room. The light from the new day does not come down. And is not welcome. My new day begins when I am quite ready, as my friends will often tell me.
I've battled with sleep since I was very young. Still I tend to lose, as sleep often escapes me. Leaving me awake and restless. Preying on whatever I can get my hands on.
The thoughts that will stir about at this time, are questionable even by my own standards. I do wonder if this "brain corruption" is really what's going on behind the scenes. And it's just rationalized by the outer shell starting to go off line.
I do wonder. And ponder. And think.
Stressing the already tired brain cells to rationalize the moments that pass.
They come up with nothing but this plausible writing.
"They" say that insomniacs are never really asleep. But never quite awake.
I believe this to be true as well.
There have been times where I've doubted that I was still awake. Even when the obvious signs are there.
I suppose it was the fact that, during the waking hours of the day, most people do not wish they were dreaming. I say most, very importantly, because I do know people who wish they were trapped in a dream.
Exhaustion is funny. All of your systems seem to go invalid. Your eyes zone in and out. Your nose tingles, though there is no further stimulation than before. Your stomach does not understand why or what is going on at all. And your mind accepts all of these now, because it itself is slightly broken down. This is the only time where I can cross the threshold of insanity for a while, and not mind all that much.
If I think back to when I started writing this, only 10 or so minutes before. I named this Apostrophe. If I try and rationalize this thought, nothing comes. However, apparently moments ago, I was able to. Now tell me, is it because my mind has fallen ever so more closer to insanity since that moment? Or is it because it has fallen out of insanity due to exhaustion?
I've been meaning to touch on the meaning of insanity for quite a long time, though I do not feel tonight is the best night to convey it to you. Expect it soon though.
I believe that without a doubt in my mind.
More and more I find myself staring into the digital numbers 4:59AM.
I'm a slave to my own thoughts, as most insomniacs are.
My heart pounds inside my chest as more ideas enter my brain.
Waves and waves up them. Compelling me to get back out of bed and begin.
Time is of no worth in my room. The light from the new day does not come down. And is not welcome. My new day begins when I am quite ready, as my friends will often tell me.
I've battled with sleep since I was very young. Still I tend to lose, as sleep often escapes me. Leaving me awake and restless. Preying on whatever I can get my hands on.
The thoughts that will stir about at this time, are questionable even by my own standards. I do wonder if this "brain corruption" is really what's going on behind the scenes. And it's just rationalized by the outer shell starting to go off line.
I do wonder. And ponder. And think.
Stressing the already tired brain cells to rationalize the moments that pass.
They come up with nothing but this plausible writing.
"They" say that insomniacs are never really asleep. But never quite awake.
I believe this to be true as well.
There have been times where I've doubted that I was still awake. Even when the obvious signs are there.
I suppose it was the fact that, during the waking hours of the day, most people do not wish they were dreaming. I say most, very importantly, because I do know people who wish they were trapped in a dream.
Exhaustion is funny. All of your systems seem to go invalid. Your eyes zone in and out. Your nose tingles, though there is no further stimulation than before. Your stomach does not understand why or what is going on at all. And your mind accepts all of these now, because it itself is slightly broken down. This is the only time where I can cross the threshold of insanity for a while, and not mind all that much.
If I think back to when I started writing this, only 10 or so minutes before. I named this Apostrophe. If I try and rationalize this thought, nothing comes. However, apparently moments ago, I was able to. Now tell me, is it because my mind has fallen ever so more closer to insanity since that moment? Or is it because it has fallen out of insanity due to exhaustion?
I've been meaning to touch on the meaning of insanity for quite a long time, though I do not feel tonight is the best night to convey it to you. Expect it soon though.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Thirsty.
This moment is pure liquid. It runs through my fingers.
It splashes all over my body.
My body that has become one with my vehicle.
I've never felt so disconnected with myself and connected with nothingness.
I've never felt more satisfied and dissatisfied at the very same time.
The triple digits on my speedometer mean nothing at all.
Step into this liquid. Freeze-frame your life at high speed.
Theres no fear. No improbability.
It's just like chess. My moves are strategic. Calculated.
I couldn't tell you the perfection of the movement motion explosion.
But I do not shake. Not anymore. The adrenaline has become one with my blood.
This feeling is inescapable. My heart pumps acid.
My lungs tinge with readiness.
Step into this liquid. Step into this moment.
Step into this life, so close to death. And yet so far away.
Zen achieved.
And yet. I'm still thirsty.
It splashes all over my body.
My body that has become one with my vehicle.
I've never felt so disconnected with myself and connected with nothingness.
I've never felt more satisfied and dissatisfied at the very same time.
The triple digits on my speedometer mean nothing at all.
Step into this liquid. Freeze-frame your life at high speed.
Theres no fear. No improbability.
It's just like chess. My moves are strategic. Calculated.
I couldn't tell you the perfection of the movement motion explosion.
But I do not shake. Not anymore. The adrenaline has become one with my blood.
This feeling is inescapable. My heart pumps acid.
My lungs tinge with readiness.
Step into this liquid. Step into this moment.
Step into this life, so close to death. And yet so far away.
Zen achieved.
And yet. I'm still thirsty.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
"Animal I Have Become"
Ever notice what happens to people over time?
They change.
It's kind of hard to grasp, but for many different reasons their personality morphs.
Just remember that everyone is a product of their environment at this point. This includes family and friends. Thats pretty much the composition of people.
Too many people make the mistake of surrounding themselves with the same type of people. Instead of keeping a broad group with many different people. It'll help round you out a bit. You'll be more understanding, accepting and open. Think about it once in a while, and you'll realize your friends (and foes) have quite the influence on you.
I talked about this with my friends the other day. What would happen to you if you were completely isolated for a long time?
Would you forget how to speak?
Would the same final influences before your solitude continue to loop?
Would your instincts be the basis of your daily life?
Your direct influence would be your environment minus the interaction with other human beings... (Animals are not excluded..)
So still, you'd be influenced by a being(s). Would you inherit the animalistic ways of your environment?
My best guess is yes.
They change.
It's kind of hard to grasp, but for many different reasons their personality morphs.
Just remember that everyone is a product of their environment at this point. This includes family and friends. Thats pretty much the composition of people.
Too many people make the mistake of surrounding themselves with the same type of people. Instead of keeping a broad group with many different people. It'll help round you out a bit. You'll be more understanding, accepting and open. Think about it once in a while, and you'll realize your friends (and foes) have quite the influence on you.
I talked about this with my friends the other day. What would happen to you if you were completely isolated for a long time?
Would you forget how to speak?
Would the same final influences before your solitude continue to loop?
Would your instincts be the basis of your daily life?
Your direct influence would be your environment minus the interaction with other human beings... (Animals are not excluded..)
So still, you'd be influenced by a being(s). Would you inherit the animalistic ways of your environment?
My best guess is yes.
"The Good Left Undone"
"In fields where nothing grew but weeds,
I found a flower at my feet,
Bending there in my direction,
I wrapped a hand around its stem,
I pulled until the roots gave in,
Finding now what I’ve been missing,
But I know…
So I tell myself, I tell myself it’s wrong.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
Inside my hands these petals browned,
Dried up, fallen to the ground
But it was already too late now.
I pushed my fingers through the earth,
Returned this flower to the dirt,
So it can live. I walked away now.
But I know…
Not a day goes by that I don’t feel it’s burn.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long,
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
All because of you…
All because of you…
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
Inside these arms of yours.
All because of you,
I believe in angels.
Not the kind with wings,
No, not the kind with halos,
The kind that bring you home,
When home becomes a strange place.
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out."
Note: This isn't mine, but it's one of my favorite songs. I love the lyrics. They're worth the read. I promise.
I found a flower at my feet,
Bending there in my direction,
I wrapped a hand around its stem,
I pulled until the roots gave in,
Finding now what I’ve been missing,
But I know…
So I tell myself, I tell myself it’s wrong.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
Inside my hands these petals browned,
Dried up, fallen to the ground
But it was already too late now.
I pushed my fingers through the earth,
Returned this flower to the dirt,
So it can live. I walked away now.
But I know…
Not a day goes by that I don’t feel it’s burn.
There’s a point we pass from which we can’t return.
I felt the cold rain of the coming storm.
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long,
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out.
All because of you…
All because of you…
All because of you,
I haven’t slept in so long.
When I do I dream of drowning in the ocean,
Longing for the shore where I can lay my head down,
Inside these arms of yours.
All because of you,
I believe in angels.
Not the kind with wings,
No, not the kind with halos,
The kind that bring you home,
When home becomes a strange place.
I’ll follow your voice,
All you have to do is shout it out."
Note: This isn't mine, but it's one of my favorite songs. I love the lyrics. They're worth the read. I promise.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
I choose not to remain ignorant to my life.
And I will not allow myself to be corrupted like everyone else seems to be.
Oh wait.
Too late.
I've been corrupted long before they even sensed it.
So why is it that the world keeps turning?
Are these the tried and true methods of life?
I am horrible.
And so are you...
But I am far worse.
Worse is only a word and point of view.
Does that make it any less meaningful?
More than you can realize.
I guess this also answers the question about human definition.
That everything is just a method of defining life. Defining point of view. The only way that things can make sense.
I am far worse.
I am far worse.
And I will not allow myself to be corrupted like everyone else seems to be.
Oh wait.
Too late.
I've been corrupted long before they even sensed it.
So why is it that the world keeps turning?
Are these the tried and true methods of life?
I am horrible.
And so are you...
But I am far worse.
Worse is only a word and point of view.
Does that make it any less meaningful?
More than you can realize.
I guess this also answers the question about human definition.
That everything is just a method of defining life. Defining point of view. The only way that things can make sense.
I am far worse.
I am far worse.
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