I've lost weight. I'm not going to say how much, because I'll probably have regained it by now.This has been, without a doubt, one of the best summers I've ever had. I've achieved more than I thought possible of myself. I've proved me to myself.I've never felt in better shape. I intend to keep it this way. More exercise: a healthy body makes a healthy mind.
Iíve read more, and Iíve found my niche Ė my own little corner of literature where no-one can bother me. Iíve got more to go though.Aspiration. It just kills ya, don't it?
I've decided on which form I find most beautiful. I mean this in an artistic, aesthetic sense, not in that of a beauty competition. I won't name names or hint at faces.The human form. That is the most beautiful thing in all existence. Vitruvian Man. The Fabric of the Human Body. The wealth of skin tones, the arciform protrusions from the richly-embroidered framework, the hidden flesh, alluded to by tautness or curvature. The sinews slackening, half-hidden ripples.The entanglement of limbs, twisting and intertwining like breathing vines, the fingers catching, slipping, catching, bodies ever moving to a higher state.
The day will come when you'll look upon the destruction you've wrought with your age of steel and mind of God with tears in your eyes. And I'll be there.The hour will come when your civilization grinds to†a halt, the heaven-scented clouds of illusion will be swept away. And I'll be there.The minute will come when you must decide whether it is just to spill the blood of your brother in the name of survival. And I'll be there.I'll put my hand on your shoulder, and I'll ask you if you're scared, and you'll say yes.
†And I shall face the demons that hide in the shadows, waiting, waiting, waiting.I shall have no fear as I look in the eye that with which my mind threatens to crush me, to turn my bones to ash and dance in the dust.I will draw strength from that lingering moment, hanging like a star on a chain around my neck, knowing that I cannot lose, I cannot die, I cannot stop as I†become the very love that is my armour.I will destroy the enemies that are myself. Not one of them shall shed my blood.
When I grow old I want to be†like an old†leather bag:†weathered, world-worn, glad of the rest to come.I want to be kept as with sentimental value, even though I may have holes in, and may have lost my use almost entirely. Loved, nice just to have around, even if serving no direct useful purpose.I want to look like an old leather bag: walnut brown, a bit rough around the edges, and full of wrinklesI am awakened from my daydream by the rather more crude suggestion I shall thus look rather akin to a testicle.
My father's off to Albania again. He does this quite a lot. At work he's become the go-to guy on Albanian affairs (that is, as much as a geotechnical consultant can be called a 'go-to guy'). I envy him, being able to see all of these places whilst I sit at my desk making notes. I only hope I can get to travel as much when Iím working, my briefcase swinging like those of my predecessors. Iíve always wondered about that briefcase.It's probably got something to do with the mafia. No wonder he was so concerned about that map.
"Here lies a manWho hated the world,Who despised every living thingThat ever disturbed his presence.A vicious hatred of charitable institutionsWas posessed by this man,Who believed that charity showed weaknessAnd that poverty was the resultOf laziness and ignorance.A miser and a scrooge, This man never gave, lent, or bought,Theft being a right as he perceived itFor the disadvantaged to use against a hostile,Backward society.This man never loved,Never cherished,Poured his vituperative scornUpon anything and everything.So to teach him a lesson,We buried him upside down."
My arms are missing something. I thought everything was there, but that wasn't the case upon closer inspection.It's something warm and bright, not something physical but more of a feeling. Something deep down inside, a moment that can only be felt once it's over, a ripple long gone in the sea of time, longed for once again. Itís not a case of sinew, nerves or flesh, but of impulse, outlines, that lingering scent. My arms feel incomplete. If you see it, youíll tell me, wonít you?It's something just short†my height, two shoulders wide, with a beautiful smile.
To a true friend, a wonderful person and an incredible musician.Another year And you don't feel any different.You're not.And that's just fine with me.The magic's not in knowing that another day's passedBut in the tinkling, the dexterityWith which you rule the keys, Your slender fingers never knowing, ever-knowing,Tuned with that very deserved intuition,That true passion.It's infectious,Spreading through the room, bouncing off the walls,Filling everyone with your love.And we love you.So very much.You may only just be an adultBut you've been a man a long time.
A mystery, deep and entwined, wrapping itself in coils around my mind. A curtain, hiding from me the truth; the actuality of that truth†is what I desire. Why so sought after? The will of a million men, that for which they have fought and died, the very fountain of life. But I cannot comprehend. That is a road I alone may take, trodden once, a road of no return, directionless, a suspension of time. That sweetness which drives men to death and a cold sweat. A soft discovery, a bite, a stumble in the dark.The curtain parted.
The bristles land lightly upon the sparse canvas. A new beginning. Get a feel for your workspace. Paintless, start your curvatures, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You could do anything. You are creation. You are God.Like a visual narrator, you can deceive, you can hide, you can tell your audience what's there, what's not, though it's right in front of their faces. You can fill them with love, hate, joy, fear. The brush withdraws, chooses its poison, and begins its dance across the white floor.†ďMaybe Iíll put my love on ice,/ Teach myself, maybe thatíll be niceĒ
Today I saw a beautiful thing.A lone sunflower, its head tilting to where it perceived to be the source of the faintest light, standing lowly yet defiant, invader of a crack in the concrete.It seemed a little bewildered, not knowing how or why it had been placed there. Yet there it stood, challenging the tempestuous hand of Fortune to pluck it from the earth, bowing slightly under the autumnal winds which plucked at its bold outline. I smiled at its hardy tenaciousness, then walked on.All civilisation seemed swept aside, a light in the darkness of the jungle.
A seed is sown. Pushed deep down into the ground, it is covered, hidden, locked away in the arms of the earth, safe from everything, safe from me. For now.Yet I am not safe from it. Not now. Not ever, not until I know that the seed will grow into a beautiful, elegant, quivering thing, for then I may sleep with the heady scent of it floating around my head, or that it will grow into a great monstrous, strangling, choking entanglement, for then I may strike it down.But for now, I must let it sleep. And wait.
Iím going to go to sleep and let this wash right over me Iím going to go to sleep and let this wash right over me Iím going to go to sleep and let this wash right over me Iím going to go to sleep and let this wash right over me Iím going to go to sleep and let this wash right over me Iím going to go to sleep and let this wash right over me Iím going to go to sleep and let this wash right over me Iím going to go to sleep and let this
I'd like to think that I'm relatively principled. I'm probably not though. There probably isn't much†I wouldn't sacrifice to the will of your opinion.I open my mouth, but am buffeted by conversational side-winds. This wasn't my intention. I promise you that. The harsh light falls softly upon us, blessing our presence. The Fates, just for that second, look kindly upon us. I stay silent, trying to show you all my feelings in my smile.Then I am left wondering 'Where did all the time go?' as once again, the dark envelops your face and steals you from me.
Every second wasted is a split in the seam. Every minute avoiding the inevitable meeting of mind, reality and desire is clawing uselessly as Time the Executioner drags me slowly towards my fate. Fingernails down the blackboard. That portentous mass, swelling in the back of my mind, my guilt, my soul, sneers as its cold black breath freezes the backs of my eyeballs. You're going to hang for what you need to do. It'll kill him. Youíll destroy him. Traitor.I put the needle down onto the wax, hear the comforting crackling, then let the King's words take me away.
Introspections of a CowardThy†pain and grief,†thy guilt and fearWill steal away what ye hold dear,As God above, and angels true,Shall retribute thy sin with due. Thy mark shall show thy tort from hence, And give no fool the least pretence,How hard†thy laden soul†might try,To e'er excuse or justify.The whip shall crack above†thy head,As ashen tears of dust you shed,Thy†driver lust, thy†burden sin,The godless who betrays his kin.And evermore†wears't thou thy bloody labelFor thou art Cain who kills†his brother†Abel
"As you probably know, I'm a man with strong religious convictions.""How could I possibly know? I don't even know you! You've just come up to me, stuck a gun in my face and told me to get out of my car!""Ah. Yes. Indeed. Anyway, as such, I would like your blessing as I take your car from you.""What?""I would like your blessing.""And you expect me to give you one?""Well yes, I was rather hoping you would.""No. I shan't.""All right then. I shall make you.""Aiyaa, no need to point that thing at me..."
"Will all great Neptune's Ocean wash this bloodClean from my hand? No: this my hand will ratherThe multitudinous seas incarnadine,Making the green one, red."I hide away in the shadows, keeping out of the rays of my desire, that which will surely bring Paradise, yet will cut irreparable wounds into Old Man Time's flesh, for which there is no forgiveness save death. I am sorry for my sins, but am I not human? No matter. All is long gone. I keep away from the trees, lest Great Birnam Wood, to high Dunsinane Hill, shall come against me.
I strayed from the path, the winding track†which should have†carried me on to where I wanted to go. It was never an inevitability that I should reach its end, for there were so many traps to ensnare me.I turned my head, but the darkness closed in on me from all sides, and I could not see the way whence I had come. I tripped, felt a million needles plunge into me, then hung there motionless.A bramble patch had caught me, its thorns ripping at my suspended flesh, trapping me, the crimson booty welling on my skin.
I struggled, but the twisting limbs of the brambles overpowered mine, paralysing me as my blood, incarnadine liquid penance, ran in rivulets along to the tips of my fingers, stopped, clotting slightly, before tumbling away from me, their presence almost inexistent as they were swallowed up by the bitch earth.As I hung, strung up like some gory puppet, a voice emanated from the darkness around me:"You'll go to hell for what you did. Judas, you cannot run any longer. I will catch you, and my love will wash away your evil, before I cast you down for evermore."
"Spare me," I cried, "for I have sinned!""You are to be punished not for what you did, and I cannot spare you, nor could have even if I wanted to, for you would have done what you did even if you knew you were to do it.""No! No! You cannot say that!""Ah, but I can.""No!" My voice rang clear through the thicket, the barbs trembling with my frustration. "There is always a choice. It might not be ours to make, but we are always implicated in that sequence of events that is the Chain of Being."
There was a pause."So be it," said the voice. "You have chosen your own penance. You must find a way to atone for your sins.""What shou-""I said you must find away. The choice for me to help you is not mine to make. You will go, Judas, and you will never find the end of the path upon which you walk unless you pay penitence for what you will do."With that, the brambles disappeared and I fell to the floor. I rose, the crimson earth sticking to my shaking brow, and tried to find my path.
he sits facing away from me he cant see as i come up from behind what is he thinking of i know youre there he says i stop and switch from one hand to the other i know you he says do what you have to do a silence comes i dont want to do this anymore but go on he says i wont hold it against you how can he not i stop clear my head take a deep breath take the last steps and plunge in the knife he doesnt wince as i twist it in his back
I'm so sorry.I know you've been hit in the facewith a brick.It's swollen your lipsBlurred your eyesAnd you're haemorrhaging fast in your skull.But you can't stop.You've got another coming.I know you've lost faithI know you feel like you can't go onBut you have to.That's what being human is.You've got to pick up your tired bonesPick yourself up from your blood and your ideasAnd take yourself awayAway to a place where the sun shines brighterThe water flows clearer
and all your love will never die.
If everybody in the world jumped at the same time, the world would move momentarily off of its axis, and then revert to its normal state of being, after less than a second of disruption.Why is it then, that it only takes the sound of one†step to make cracks in the earth, one look to make buildings crumble to dust, one turn to fell every tree, one look to turn my insides into mercury? And why must it be that all these powers are condensed into the physical form of one person?"There's†a fire in my world..."
The harsh light, filtered softly through the leaves, falls gently upon one side of your face. Your light step and calm eyes almost make me forget it's dark, that our walk only lasts a few hundred metres, that soon you'll be gone, whisked away with a purr and a shrinking red light. My memory clouds, your face becomes a simple, soft shape, one which contemplates, understands, responds, smiles, turns everything invisible. I find myself staring at your eyes, those strange orbs which flicker and glint and make me wonder...A click, a wave, and I am left staring into inexistence
I just don't know what to do with myself I just don't know what to do with myself I just don't know what to do with myself I just don't know what to do with myself I just don't know what to do with myself I just don't know what to do with myself I just don't know what to do with myself I just don't know what to do with myself I just don't know what to do with myself I just don't know what to do with myself I just don't know what to do with myself I