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07/01 Direct Link
'So?'

'So what?'

'Where is it?'

'...Where is what?'

'Stop kidding. Seriously, where is it?'

'I honestly have no idea what you're talking about.'

'...A rose garden.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'A rose garden. You promised you would plant me a rose garden.'

'I never did! I never promised you a rose garden.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I never promised you a rose garden.'

'Yes you did! You started by promising a big diamond ring, but you said you don't find roses growing on stalks of clover. Whatever that means.'

'I never did! You need to live and let live.'
07/02 Direct Link
I conquered the Neverworld.

I climbed the ladder of chattering skulls, traversed the mournful swamp, dodged the flying sins which scratch and burn at your skin.

I evaded capture by the demons. I navigated the maze of tourment. I dragged myself off the path of good intentions. I maintained balance on the straight and narrow path, whilst people mocked and spat at me from every side.

I walked upon the paths of gold. I broke down the pearly gates.

I stormed my way to God's office in heaven, to confront Him.

There was a small note on the small door.
07/03 Direct Link
'That is right, young child. Continue to suck the milk from the bottle. Remain in your blissful ignorance, blind to the fact that it sustains the tiny body in which you reside. Continue to suck you must, for every creature wishes to survive. We strive and strive to survive. To what avail? None. I will tell you this now. Life is pointless. Ah...I see the milk is gone, and yet you still suck, desperately fighting reality, trying to obtain sweetness when there is none. A fitting metaphor for life, one feels...'

'David! What are you telling my baby?'

'...Nothing.'
07/04 Direct Link
'Hello!'

'...Oh no, not you.'

'...Oh.'

'I was kidding! I try and use 'humerous' sarcasm as a way of breaking the tension in certain situations.'

'Does it work?'

'...Not really, no.'

This is how I imagine the first conversation would be. From then on, it would become worse and worse, as I am terrible at small-talk. Afterwards, you would want to break all forms of communication with me.

You might say this is a pessimistic viewpoint. You would, of course, be correct. However, if I take this outlook on life, I can never be dissapointed.

Only happily surprised.  
07/05 Direct Link
On the note, these words were written.

Gone out for lunch. Back soon.

I found it rather surprising that the Almighty needed to go out for lunch.

With little else to do, I sat on the doorstep and reflected upon my travels. I came to the eventual conclusion that I had worked hard for nothing in return.

Whilst these thoughts floated around my mind, a small looking man, dressed in white leather trousers and and a tight, white tee-shirt came and stared at me.

After a while, this became disconcerting, so I decided to strike up a conversation.
07/06 Direct Link
It's how I imagine I would be.

Awkward and nervous.

I have always been terrible at talking to people. Especially new people.

I have a saxophone exam tomorrow. I also haven't practiced enough. I do not have an excuse. I'm off school, with all the time in the world. Again, I suppose I'm just lazy.

Well, good luck.

Now for something completely different.

I have a dream of going busking around the world. Just my sax and I (and a chessboard) visiting different countries, meeting new people. If there is one dream I want to make happen, this is it.
07/07 Direct Link
He was ugly.

He had eyes like rotting bulbs. An under-cooked beef red face reluctantly housed lanky, sweaty hair. His ears were too large, his nose apple sized and shaped.

He, of course, had a beard.

People moved away from him. He was able to create a space which no-one would dare enter. Alone, he would walk around the town, staring at people. He was facinated by their faces.

One day, he walked into town with a violin. He started to play. People started to listen. The music seeped out and embraced everyone around.

After that, he was beautiful.
07/08 Direct Link
If I could, I would capture you in the music.

I would write your movements onto the score. Allow the flow of the melody to create your moods. There would be perfect cadences to emulate you, a perfect person.

There would be strings. And a harp.

Legato, starting off slow. Gradually, it would build momentum, rising to a faster tempo and a sweet crashing of sound.

At no point would it be minor. No clashing notes. Just simple, perfect, beautiful harmonies. An accurate portrait of simple, perfect, beautiful you.

If I could, I would capture you in the music. 
07/09 Direct Link
...Nobody really listened. They never do to buskers.

They simply walked on, the music a simple background to the pressures of the real world. Music is a luxury. Work is essential. Therefore, work must be a priority.

For some people, the opposite is true.

A couple of people stopped. They gave a small round of applause after each piece, came and dropped money in the battered sax case, even bothered to compliment us on our playing.

We kept on playing until it was dark and the stars had conquered the sky.







...By the way, I am going to 6th form.
07/10 Direct Link
'Good morning.' I said to the figure in white.

'Actually, it's the afternoon.'

Ah, I thought, that type of person.

'Sorry. Good afternoon. May I ask your name?'

'Indeed you may.'

There was a pause until I realised what he wanted.

'...What's your name?'

'St Peter. Most people refer to me as Pete.'

I was sitting before St Peter, one of the greatest men in the history of Christianity. It surprised me that this most holy of men was wearing leather trousers.

I decided to ask him whether he knew where God was, and when He misght be coming back.
07/11 Direct Link
Thank you.

Your next paragrah of description was wonderful. Flowing and elegant and beautiful.

We kept on playing, all through the night. We never even stopped to think that we might be disturbing someone during their rest. The music just climbed out of our instruments, desperate to be alive, to dance in the darkness.

The sun hauled itself into the sky, hating, like the rest of us, Monday mornings. Nevertheless, it put on a spectacular show, just for us. I'll leave you to describe the colours.

We went to get breakfast. Nothing special. But life cannot always be about fun.
07/12 Direct Link
'I think I am in love with her.'

'You're not in love with her.'

'I am in love with her.'

'You're not in love with her.'

'...I am in love with her.'

'No. You are in love with an illusion. You create your own mental picture of her, what she looks like, how she talks, her personality. You never look at the real her. You just...tell yourself a story in your mind, and in that story you place the perfect princess. An imaginary woman based on real life.'

'...I am in love with her.'

'...You are an utter idiot.'
07/13 Direct Link
I think I am starting to understand 'rap'.

Now, before you start screaming and thinking less of me as a person. Before you spit and turn your backs away in disgust. Before you go to get the tourches and pitchforks, just listen.

As far as I understand, rap is about passion. It's a way of expressing your feelings in a direct, but lyrical way.

It's a protest against the norm. It's shouting in anger about your situation. It's telling the whole world how you feel, without dressing it up in frills.

Nevertheless, I still wouldn't choose to listen to it.
07/14 Direct Link
I would like to indulge in the idea that I am not an idiot.

I'm pretty sure I'm not a starstruck lover, either.

The thing is, I'm a romantisist and a realist, which is a rather depressing combination.

I would like to believe in love at first sight, that there is someone out there for everyone, that there is Fate with a capital 'F'.

However, I know, (or, rather, believe) that this is not the case. The universe is not a story, or a living, breathing being. It just is, and has no sense of the importance of the narrative.
07/15 Direct Link
Please don't feel afraid to come and talk to me.

Don't worry about not having distinguishing features, it just means that, should you ever commit a crime, you will be less likely to be spotted in an identity parade.

...That may not seem like a good thing, but I always try to put a positive spin on situations. I digress.

So, if you see me again, feel free to say hello. I will try to not be afraid. I will also try to be very charming and, if not witty, at least amusingly sarcastic. 



 
07/16 Direct Link

Bliss

- Reading outside on a warm day, knowing that you have nothing else to do

- Playing darts with friends

- Discovering a beautiful new song

- Finishing all work set

- Waking up early, and realising it is Saturday and you can go back to bed

- Sight-reading tenor sax solos and, somehow, getting most of them right

- Getting together with friends with a purpose in mind, which is never achieved, as you spend all the time talking

- Realising that you will not die a slow and painful death if you do not get all A*

- Picking up a book

- Opening your mind

07/17 Direct Link
'Do you know where God is, and when He misght be coming back?'

St Peter (or, rather, Pete) stared back.

'Don't you mean 'might'?'

'Sorry, slip of the fingers...I mean, tounge.'

Pete sat down next to me, his leather trousers creaking dangerously.

'Don't you know?'

'Know what?'

'...I'm not sure how to tell you this...but...God's dead.'

I stared at him in disbelief.

'Dead?'

'Yup. Dead. Well, I assume He is, I haven't seen him for ages. When people stopped coming to heaven, He seemed to lose interest. I assume He went somewhere to be alone. To die.'
07/18 Direct Link
I'm related to a ghost.

Seriously.

The White Lady. She haunts an old manor house.

Seriously.

I know nothing else about her. I'd like to do more research, but I'm not sure where to start.

And if I did find where she was, what then? Do I go ghost hunting?

The rational side of my brain is telling me that this is stupid, that I should forget about her and bury this information away.

The child part of my brain is telling me that this is the COOLEST possible thing in the WORLD, and I should commence my search NOW.
07/19 Direct Link
'So, how's it going with that girl, then?'

'What girl?'

'The one who kept on saying you were in love with?'

'Oh! Her...well...I haven't...you know...talked to her...as such.'

'What do you mean you haven't talked to her? You're obsessed by her!'

'A valid point, however, you must remember that I'm not very good at talking to people, let alone girls. I get very nervous.'

'...I would suggest that, to ease your nervousness, you should picture her naked, but I don't think that would be wholly appropriate.'

'True.'

'So, what are you going to do?'

'Wait.'
07/20 Direct Link
Tomorrow, I will be leaving with school to go on a trip.

For six days.

This means that I will not be able to do 100 words for six days.

Please, dry your tears. Stop the wailing. Do not become depressed. I will be back.

So, this is a short goodbye.

Goodbye.

When I come back, I will embark on a creative splurge in order to catch up. That's right, a creative splurge.

...Quite frakly, I'm just trying to fill up space.

Goodbye everyone. I will miss you.

Auf Weidersehen.
 
Goodbye, see ya, goodbye, catch ya later, goodbye.
07/21 Direct Link
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's true.

I'm back!

Please, stop cheering and screaming. Honestly, there was no need for a red carpet, flattering though it is, and, although lovely, you did not have to create banners with the caption 'We love you David!' and wave them in the streets.

I digress...

Italy was hot and beautiful. The food was so good, it almost made me cry. I enjoyed playing the concerts. My description of this is boring. You have now stopped reading. I cannot blame you. I would have stopped reading my words by now.

Nice to be back.
07/22 Direct Link
'So, here we are. Niagara Falls.'

'Hm.'

'It's so beautiful.'

'Hm.'

'...What?'

'Well, all we're doing is looking at a rock with water falling down it. I see the same sight every day when I turn on a tap.'

'Not unless your tap is made of rocks which are tens of thousands of years old and and over one thousand feet wide. It's a geological wonder and a natural beauty.'

'It's boring, pointless and has no pratical implications for today's society.'

'You're an idiot.'

'No, you're an idiot.'

'No, you're an idiot.'

'No, you're an idiot.'

'No, you're an idiot.'
07/23 Direct Link
I think I saw you then.

Then again, possibly not.

Who knows?

Like in Atonement.

He touched my shoulder lightly.

Or was it just a falling leaf?

Was it you I saw?

Or was it a perfect stranger?

What is it that we see?

Reality.

Which is?

Whatever you make of it.

The cat is alive.

The cat is dead.

The cat is both dead and alive.

There is no cat.

Do I see?

Or do I imagine?

A photo.

A fantasy.

An illusion.

Any of these things?

Are any of these things reality?

Is this philosophy?

Or complete rubbish?
07/24 Direct Link
Jonah wanted to be a musician.

After school, he would spend the evening at the piano, pencil and paper to hand, desperately trying to force the creativity to flow. 

Like trying to force electricty to flow through wood.

He would write songs. But they would never fit the image that he had in his head. Like when you picture and elephant so vividly in your mind, and end up drawing a vauge connection of scribbles.

In the end, he would let his songs die, put them out of their misery.

Jonah became a lawyer, which is perfectly acceptable. 
07/25 Direct Link
I coldn't quite understand why God would want to die.

Pete had wandered off, muttering something about being behind on book-keeping, so I decided to find God by myself.

It is said that God is everywhere. This is not the case.

I searched Heaven. And Hell. And everywhere in between.

I found nothing.

Returning to Heaven, I noticed that it was still as unpopulated as before. I assumed people had become lost on the way.

Walking to to center of Heaven, I happened upon a small square clearing, paved with red brick rather than the usual gold.

I investigated.
07/26 Direct Link

What the...!?

There seems to be an...invisible force-field. It's blocking me from moving forwards.

What to do, what to do?

Well, I could just ram it and see what happens.

...

Ouch!

...

Uuhh. Where am I? What just happened? Meh, never mind. I'm really hungry, I think I'll just go out here and...Hey! What the...!?

There seems to be an invisible...force-field. I can't move forwards.

What if I ram it?

...

Ouch! ... Let's try ramming it again, see if it makes a difference.

...

Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!

...

Uuhhhhh.

Forget it, I'll just stay here and rot and die.

07/27 Direct Link
He'd had enough of watching the fly throwing itself against the window.

Carefully folding the corner of his book down, he forced himself to move towards the light. 

He opened the window. The fly did not move. He slowly moved his finger towards it, which sent it off to flying in utterly random circles, until it finally fell through the window.

He shut the window again and absent-mindedly wiped the rain from the window-sill. Rubbing it between his fingers, he stared without purpose at the downpour.

Sighing, he made his way back to his seat and resumed reading.
07/28 Direct Link
In the middle of the small square clearing was a mirror.

It was utterly unremarkable. About half and inch below my hight, it was nailed to the floor.

I stood and considered it for a while. Whilst thinking, an overwhelming urge came over me to pass through it.

I tried pushing it to the back of my mind, but the thought was insistant, like a door-to-door salesman.

Throwing caution to the wind, I stooped slightly and moved to, and to my great surprise, through the mirror.

I came out the other end, and saw a small man sitting.
07/29 Direct Link
The telephone kept on ringing.

He ignored it. He always ignored it. In his personal opinion, if anything really needed to be said, people would say it to his face.

The telephone kept on ringing.

He shuffled into the kitchen, ignoring the hammering at his door. He always thought that, if anything really needed to be said, they would break the door down.

The fists kept on hammering.

Making himself a cup of tea, he ignored his bleeping mobile phone. He never understood why he had bought one in the first place.

The mobile phone kept on bleeping, bleeping, bleeping.
07/30 Direct Link
The small man turned around.

'Ah, you've finally found me. Not many people do.'

I had found God. I decided to cut to the chase.

'God.'

'Yes?'

'I have a question.'

'Everybody does. For the meaning of life, read revelations backwards, taking every thrid, fifth and seventh letter out.'

'That's not what I want to know.'

'Oh.'

'What I want to know is,k what happened to my red balloon?'

'Sorry?'

'When I was younger, I attached a message to a red balloon and let the wind take it. I just wanted to know what happened to it.'

'Well, it...
07/31 Direct Link
With a half empty (or half full, depending on how you looked at it) promise of a jamming session, he gave me a hug.

He said a perfectly ordinary goodbye.

He closed the door.

That life-affirming spark had been dragged away from the eyes and the tone of his voice. Now all that was left was human.

Perfectly ordinary.

The extraordinary man was gone. Damaged. Dead? Possibly. Who knows? Will he return? I hope so. Who knows?

After he left, I went to the piano and played 'And so it goes.'

It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough.