Inside you, I found this music box

I've fallen in love.

 

For once and finally, my heart has sunk into the depths of this nearly familiar feeling. Like an old friend that you've known for years and years, but just not that well. Until now of course. And I see what all the fuss was about.

 

To be perfectly frank, it's hard to believe it would happen this way. After all these years and hidden feelings and thoughts for distant figments of my imagination, here I am suddenly confronted with a tactile reality within arm's reach. Was the illusion I knew, real, and is this reality that I don't, false?

 

She entered my life with such ... the words feel empty when trying to describe any aspect of her being and presence. Instead of elation, I feel an unsurpassed awe at the deities that have bestowed this favor upon me - at christmas, of all times.

 

To touch her hand. Brush against her lips. Hold her hair in my hands. It's not a stereotypical dream smooth hairdo - the strands are coarse and short - nothing to run my fingers through. But in this frenzy of desire that is not drawn from lust, it matters not.

 

My sweet. My darling. My indulgence in a moment of fiction. I must forever dream in the face of that which may not be fulfilled.

 

Fear the illusion that may not be false.

Of the Beauty of the Beast

I saw King Kong yesterday. Completely blown away by it. Now before you judge me, take me not for some mindless movie watcher - connoisseur of Hollywood Austin Powers OTT shite. I would in fact think that most hollywood formula lovers wouldn't entirely love or appreciate the magnificence of this film - one that redefines the monster movie and gives us the epic without the scope of the easy go-to option - the trilogy.

But most of all, the vision of the film is extraordinary. Yes, I know I haven't seen Crash or any of the other unbelievably great films of the year - yet - but to me, Kong sits up there as one of the better films of the year with pride and grace.

And having said that, I move on.

I also saw Narnia this past weekend. And I really have little good to say about it other than there were some nice colors every now and again. That's about it. I didn't think much of it before I saw Kong and I think even less of it after. Arguably, it felt like LotR lite - for kids. Which, as a point has been made, most of the people who would have really read the books or be familiar with teh literature aren't going to be the rotten little kiddies - it would be the elder folk of this generation and of generations past - so to design the movie with this kind of childish sensibility is to go ahead and ignore the main audience in the first place. Kind of like a subtle kick to the nads if you ask me. As subtle as a nad-kicking can get.

I don't really exist, do I? A figment of my own imagination. Crafted by my own limited creativity, I live in this weird dream of patterns and nightmarish moments. It's an odd state to pass through. Nothing's entirely real - unless it's something that can hurt and then the pain becomes all too believable. Nothing good really transpires. It's all illusion. Every laugh and object of desire. It can't really be so, can it?

Till it comes around.

Uncommemorated

Be that a word or not, I really don't care - well ... I do. Yeah, that was a lie. I do care whether that was a word or not. Whether my grammar is correct or not. But I like to act like I don't - more so, in order to deflect or prevent any criticisms before they are levied against me and my words. A preventative measure, eh? Interesting - never actually looked at it that way. Apparently, I am so fearful ... or perhaps we all are to varying extents, of our words being whittled away to nothingness. To a greater point when all one has are the weak statements in one's head.

This blog was born on the 24th of November last year - when my curiosity for this whole blogging thing finally overcame my weak consciousness and I was sucked into the web of global obscurity all for that shot at being famous with at least one other person around. Well, more than one. But I'm keeping my goals "realistic" now. ;D

I wake and sleep. Rise and fall. Fall. Fall. And fall some more. It's a deep hole with no end in sight. There's plenty of light as I see time and space distort and the fall seems to slow down at times, the illusion of stopping crosses my consciousness - lulling me into a false sense of security before I realise that I've only increased the speed of the drop. Accelerated the journey to the bottom. WIth greater acceleration comes greater force and impact at the time of landing at the bottom. Tis it'll be ever longer before I can pick myself up and heal, if at all.

Ovaries. And Liver. Two words that are far too underused in everyday communication. The comic potential of Liver alone should make it a staple of normal conversation. And Ovaries - don't get me started on the complexity and glory of the word. Forgetting the association with body parts, these are great words - up there with Spleen as the unknown words. They're like Pariahs of the english language - they are there, but hardly ever used. A bit of a damn shame really. I mean to change that, for my part at least. I shall be a pioneer - a freedom fighter for words of great import that are treated no better than words like bauble (which is an awful word, when you really get down and think about it).

Aorta has potential for use, but it has no comical value. And therein lies its downfall for the time being. Perhaps after some time has passed, when a word need not have comic value to be used.

Till my eyes can remain open without shutting involuntarily due to a desire to sleep.

Not Now

Looks odd, doesn't it? Or perhaps that's just me. But it doesn't look like english - it doesn't quite look right or normal. Like for a second, it's something else - a foreign tongue, some cryptic code - Not Now. Perhaps it's the incorrect, though intentionally dramatic, use of the capital letters for both words. Who would know the answer - perhaps a semanticist ... if such a thing truly doth exist. Or just Freud. But then he'd say something entirely aside from the point - still being the genius that ... he was. Never mind - I've already treaded too far from ground that I can lay fragile claim to being familiar with.

Thoughts of late have centered around a couple of things. There's, of course, the usual questions of validity. Memories are an odd thing - no matter where you go or what goes on, they always come back to haunt you. Things you thought you forgot sort of prey on your mind. And you can't really escape or run away to find some respite. It's tough and it's shit. But that' s the way it falls sometimes. Like words running in my head of past relationships and my inabilities to keep them ... alive, as such. Stuff that kind of just etches a mark on your soul. Forgotten but never gone. Inconsequential any other day of the week but today.

Violence. "Condemned" on the Xbox 360. Now before anyone even thinks of misunderstanding anything about to be said - I think that this game truly rocks. It kicks new kinds of ass heretofore unkicked in gaming. Now, past that, this game is also really violent in a disturbing way. I'm not one to say that games are violent or that they inspire violence in any but those within whom violence already exists. However, ... I'll explain. In "Condemned," you play the role of some cop who's framed for murder by a Serial killer and have to walk through the levels beating up on drug addicts and other miscreants who otherwise want you dead. It's played from this cop's eyes and guns are at a premium, so your primary choice of defence, or offence if you look at it that way, are melee weapons like pipes, shovels, hammers - anything you can get your hands on.

Now this is where the game follows its own path. When you swing a weapon, the screen swings with you. Making you feel the strength behind the blow. When you connect with some little bastard's face, he cries out in pain and drowns out the dull thud of the connecting blow. Blow splatters from his face or gut down onto the ground or nearby objects. He may lunge at you to catch you off guard, but if you time it right, a quick kick to the shins will send him reeling, ready for a whack to the back of the head. What gets me - and the reason why I have stopped playing it - is that this violence is much too ... "real" and accessible. Not that I could hit someone on the head with a lead pipe. But where the oft-maligned Grand Theft Auto is cursed for being violent, it's almost comical - it's a dark fantasy lived out by the gamer. It's so detached from reality that the violence is along the lines of Tom and Jerry. Inconsequential and without realistic problems.

In "Condemned," though, it becomes all too real. With each swing of your weapon, the adrenaline rushes through your veins and soon you're whacking the corpse of your foe repeatedly to make sure he's dead. Or maybe this is just me and I'm beyond the point of stability. No - I'm not about to violently slaughter or harm anyone. That's just not my way. But subjecting myself to a reality where the violence is painfully realistic in its depiction, certainly can't help the mindscape as it reacts to the world around it.

While on the subject of gaming, let it be said that the "King Kong" game on the 360 is a fucking marvel. While the graphics might not be the next-gen revelation, the gameplay and design is just sublime. That's all.

I think that I shall depart this for the time being. I've been sleeping far too late ... of late. Treading that fine line between being late for work and being really late.

Late, eh?

Till a later date! AH HA!

Pardon the apology

British folk can be awfully polite sometimes - of course, this rule does not apply to Chavs and generally rude and vicious people as are to be found in every human race. But of the general british folk and mindset as we know it this day, it is fairly true.

A twisted version of this moment involves listening to Twisted Transistor by Korn. It rocks. In a way that only Korn does - something familiar and not.

I'm supposed to put myself on a christmas card ... mailing list. Well, the list of someone I know. Apparently, when I ... provide my mailing address, in time for the big pagan celebration, I will receive a card with a story of their past year. Apparently, it's the ... contemporary thing to do. FUCKING SHIT! Goddamn people - I mean, seriously, that is such pretentious middle-class shit. That's up there with the fucking "Baby on Board" signs as the stupidest shite I've heard out of a society that doesn't have enough to occupy its collective mind.

When I do get around to driving, I am going to sideswipe every Baby on Board car I see. Or at least make out like I'm going to. Give them a bit of a scare. Let them scream their lungs out in front of little Billy or Jane. Idiots.

I came down here to speak. Well, I was upstairs - it's nearly 1am, and I have to be at work bright and early tomorrow. But I said fuck it - didn't load up a game and am not going to either. Not necessarily worth the mention, but this is my show here, so if you don't like it ... file a complaint with the management.

There used to be a time when I wrote with such disturbing regularity and speed. Lately ... well, for a lot longer than just lately, that's been lost. Either it's the inspiration (or lack thereof) or the drive ... there's a lot that's left unsaid in these myriad tales.

Condemned is a game that I played some today. It struck me as a starkly visceral and violent experience. One takes the role of this detective who's been framed for two murders by this ... meticulous serial killer called the "Matchmaker" - so far the game has presented me with a good number of druggies or psychopaths, it's unexplained at this point, but what sets this experience apart is that it's a first-person perspective with primarily melee weapons, like metal pipes or 2x4 planks. So you go toe-to-toe with these sickos and instantly, this game becomes something else as you're swinging your weapon and the screen sways, blood spraying from their mouths and leaving a stain on the wall. And while you miss on the next swing, you watch in horror as your foe lunges to smash his weapon on your head and the screen shakes as blood covers your view temporarily. When you finally get that one hit in, you're occasionally left with an option to finish the enemy off in a small variety of ways that just makes you feel that rush of testosterone that inspires you to swing at the limp corpse on the ground - just to make sure the bastard is well and truly dead.

Now before you imagine that games are sick, know this - Shadow of the Colossus is beyond words. With grace that is lacking in every sphere of art today, you engage in a story that ... it makes you question things. And that's all I can say. You wonder and ponder. And it's what the game doesn't do that makes it amazing. The moments of reflection that it arouses in one's soul. Why am I doing this? Who are these creatures? Where are we? And what is to become of me if I accomplish this mammoth task?

I suppose I really should sleep now. Even my eyes and brain are beginning to betray me here.

Till another one bites the dust.

You can't escape from your own mind

I have ... little that I have a right to complain about at this current moment. Past this, things may change violently. Well ... I have little to complain about that I am currently aware of. Not sure of how that should be phrased in order to be most ... accurate. Yet, I feel very uneasy. Extremely uncomfortable and for all the wrong reasons.

I don't know what it is that I am uneasy about - well, I do, but let me clarify. There are circumstances in this life that I have been forging. There are wants. Balanced with ... things that I don't want to encounter. I don't know if I'm purely uneasy cause I'm throwing the tantrum of a spoiled child. Or for a fear of something that I should very well be scared of.

I hate snide words. When someone says something that's just unnecessarily negative and somewhat malicious directed at me, but when it isn't really said with the intent that you can react to. Cause if you do - you're just overreacting. A hothead. There's only so much I can take sometimes. And now, that threshold is far lower. I just want to crawl into a hole and hide.

I feel so very alone. I I I I I. Once again, I'm sure of my own doing completely, I just feel adrift in a mental ocean. I have these sights and sounds and distractions from reality. Some that I "rely" on and others that I turn to and none of them provide the sustenance that I hunger for. I mean ... who can one Really speak and communicate with? An invisible audience, a fourth wall. What kind of reading does this make? Why would you be reading this? Ask yourself this. Normally these posts aren't of this nature. I think. You can be the judge.

You have come into existence for this writing now. I acknowledge your presence. Because if I say that you aren't there ... well that would be wrong ... it's actually a bit of a revelation. I mean, you obviously exist cause you're reading this. But if I said that "if someone were reading this" - those words would only be processed if that someone, you, were indeed reading this. Odd. Hard to encapsulate in these words.

Well not "exist" in the strictest of senses. Well, you would have to - even against my arguments otherwise. Right now, I'm the only one existing until someone else can prove their existence to me. If everything is a bolt of electricity in the brain. A pinch, a word, a smile - then what's a headache. Overload? How do you lower the load? Run less programs. Process less. Shut your eyes, close your ears and go to sleep. Will that really work? I don't think it has. Unless the brain keeps processing during the night enough to negate any positive result there.

I'll leave though I don't want to. I suppose it's one less shell to hide my lonliness in. This virtual place. Till it comes round again.

Death by Neglect

Am I on the threshold? Or merely peering over another crest in this hilly field through which the path of life leads? How much longer do I have to roam through these bittersweet smelling flowers. Stalks of exotic flowers that caress my hands when their thorns do not prick me. I am struck with wonder, even after all the jabs and the pricks and the drops of blood that drip from clogging veins, that I am as fortunate as to be in this field of measured wonder. How long can this ... will this go on?

I dream that there are more beautiful places yet to stop at in my journey. Vistas more wondrous than even my contorted imagination could conceive. Beyond android women. And screaming babies and mothers with no compassion. Beyond thoughts of creaking necks and crackling thumbs. Above and beyond reality that is current and now and present and gone all at once.

I dream of things that should not be spoken. Perhaps they must be uttered outside of my head. Or perhaps they are simply dreams of what could have been if time could be rewound like an old pocket watch.

Before I drift off to sleep - my eyelids that are curtains closing on another lonely day. A play of five acts with five monologues and all with me. The shadows keep me company. The light that shines through misty windows ancient grilling.

Good night, my precious day. Good day to another dream of old and new - of concrete trees and ships that sail anew.

I'm dreaming of screaming

With a million objects flying around your head like a sandstorm, you're left with two "options" - stop and pick an object to focus on, something to represent the chaos that now surrounds you. Or to hide. Forget. Run away. Images and moments that never last more than ... well, the moment.

I find this difficult to get to grips with sometimes. This overcomplicated reality of ours. This one that I've fed into. I mean, I believe in a "simple" existence with games and music and books and the occasional film. The slimy theatrical personage paid enough money to feed a million starving children - and why? Because he can portray another character with lame familiarity? I don't understand this concept of paying more than 20 million pounds to some shit-licking football player who does NOTHING to really contribute to the planet and our existence. Does his playing football somehow eradicate poverty and disease in the boroughs of his own city? I think not. Then why are these people glorified? Their lives and friendships? Why not doctors and paramedics who go out on a limb every single day of their lives to rescue those that were otherwise lost? This sickens me. Fuckin shit-fuckers - each and every one of them.

Yet, at times, in my weaker moments, I subscribe to their mass-media entertainment. I'm not much better. A product of the masses. I want to fit in. Be a part of it. A cog in the machine of the ever evolving party that is society and peers that I have not.

In this "ever-so simple life" of mine (have I mentioned how much Paris Hilton sickens me?), there's been a measure of gaming. A recent dive into the extraordinary mind of Tim Schafer's Psychonauts sets one thinking about the possibilities of gaming landscapes. My upcoming play with Shadow of the Colossus has me wetting all undergarments in excitement. ;D And Sid Meier's genius continues to blow me away in the simplicity of Civilization 4.

The other day, I was quite shaken by work. More so by people at work. When I think about this now, I can't really find a reason, a point to focus on, that I can highlight as being the moment that broke me. But somewhere in a series of events was one that cracked me down to a broken mass - so much so that I don't want to face the one that cracked my spirit and hope. It's strange and quite painful.

Where do you expect us to go when the bombs fall? Where indeed?

Till it falls upon my shoulders to carry my shell that extra moment.

No shortage of excuses ... ahem, I mean Reasons

So I haven't been around. I feel sad that I haven't. Feel sad about a lot of thengs. And then I feel bad, or guilty. And then I run and hide. And, consequently, things get worse. Like not wishing someone a happy birthday on the day even though I remembered it and felt really proud to the point of wanting to let them know. Like people who I really want to contact and communicate with, but just do't get around to - for whatever reason, cause it's never "right" and I won't have anything of value to say ... the case changes as it does.

Life is about gaming lately. More so than usual. FEAR, Civ 4, Battlefront 2, Pro Ev 5, it all sounds like gobbledigook if you haven't a clue, doesn't it? A lot of numbers, letters. A mish-mash of what could be sequels, spin-offs, pretentious abbreviations.

And ... once again, there isn't much of value in my words tonight. A lamentable return, if there has ever been one.

Tenerife Tumult

Not too much to say other than that there will be a short (hopefully it shall be just that) while before I return to blog. Not that I appear with any kind of major consistency. Nor does a ... notice like this bear any necessicity. But then what is the need for the existence of this place in the first ... place? Never mind. Too existential or virtual or unreal for me.

Totally Unreal? Is that the name of a track? Reminds me of someone. Just wish I knew the name so that I could apply it.

The track record states that it'll take longer than any anticipation can generally assume. Things aren't going too well. I'm negative when I'm not considered in life. When a decision is made that changes the course of my own actions and rhythm without due consideration for my own thoughts ... it's insulting. And then I'm just expected to go along with what's being done without the least bit of negativity? Fuck off, honestly. Emotional fucking blackmail. I hate it.

It's past midnight. I planned on staying up later, but in this old age of mine, I can barely manage it. Perhaps it's cause stuff goes on during the day. Maybe I eat less than I used to - less energy. That's a probability. Not that I think I'm honestly losing weight if I am eating less. Maybe I need to snort coke ala Kate Moss.

Now Kate ... yeah this is late, but ... ooh a rhyme. My two cents on this are that she's a victim. Not of drugs or of some stupid shite. But just of that industry. Cause you can bet your bottom dollar that all the CEO's and modelling colleagues - the CEO's of Rimmel and whoever else she had contracts with - everyone of these top-dude type folk - they probably snort coke and anything else they can get their dollar on. I highly doubt that they're all clean. So just her getting "caught" based on nothing more than allegations seems a bit fishy to me. A fall guy ... chick. A red herring. I'm going for the herring.

I will listen to some music shortly. It's hard to appreciate it completely when I'm this tired. And then there's Knife of Dreams to read. It's ... amazing. This is a book that I actually find difficult to read - because I have so much emotionally invested in the characters and the fates and paths and decisions, that I really feel the sickness, the agony and disgust at the events that would transpire against my own "wishes" as the character, if only they had the knowledge that I have with my view of the world through the 700 pages of the story. They might not make the same bloody mistakes. Never trust Aes Sedai. Never!

Till a lover finds his soulmate. Acquires. Becomes whole.

With this Knife of Dreams, I thee slay

To all those Shakespeaking folks - correct me if I am wrong with that title, but hey - that's the best that I can come up with at a moment's notice. Really stoked about this book, if you can't tell.

So I have finished my quest against the "God of War" - what a fucking epic of a game! I mean ... damn! To those who have completed it and also enjoyed the rapture which I now feel, I salute you. That was a fucking kickass experience and a half! Only problem is now is that everything else feels a bit blank. Last time this happened was with Oddworld: Stranger's Wrath, but then that was something else - Gotta say I'm fucking lucky - to have come across two unbelieveable game experiences in the space of a few months - with another one due in a couple of weeks' time. Damn good year for gaming - that's all I have to say on the matter.

We love our lies. My sibling(s) lie on a regular basis. To throw off the lowest class of people that would seek to follow their footsteps like shadows encrusted with bits of shit. I lie to hide my true actions/thoughts/motives. You lie when you need to hide or to step ahead of where you would be otherwise. What is the truth, but an un-lie? And what is a lie, but an un-truth? It feels more profound than it sounds - like I've stumbled upon something - a rock that could be a diamond or more, but I have to dig just a bit deeper to find something yet finer still. But for now, the idea is just a rock. A brown rock. With black specks - a fine black coat covering it - sticking to my fingers. It tastes of ash and dirt. Makes me cough. Choke too.

Solitude is prettier at night than it is during the day. When the sun is out, it is something dirty. Tiresome and vile. At night, it is bittersweet. Painful like a million needles pricking the skin - a million beads of blood slowly oozing out. But it's a beautiful pain. Or it can be, if the needles don't dig in any deeper. Sometimes they do, don't they?

To the post preceeding the one that succeeds the one that succeeds this. Success for all!

This sounds like how I feel

Certain songs - a short post this - inspire emotions. As you must already know. This was on the walk home. It was fairly dark. I feel quite miserable inside. And I'm listening to "Schism." Now I learn the deep sadness that is locked within that song. For me at least. The eloquence of of the words that I had compiled in my mind is lost now. But ... no ... now, I feel this sharp pain. The dark sorrow of times past and of the present mixed into one.

There are songs of blind rage - "No, You Don't" springs to mind - music blaring in ears through cheap headphones - ears that will ring for two weeks hence. Eyes that are on the verge of tears that aren't there.

Happy songs of the most lamentable lonliness. "Devil in New Jersey City."

I feel weak and pained right now and wish I could hide. This is the clearest and most truth one will ever get from me in one quick go.

WOW!

I can't believe it. Hello again world. Another new random innovation of inconsequence.

Testing this whole email blog thing

If this works man, this will be really fucking cool!

Midnight Financing Whiplash

MFW ... I'll leave it at that.

Actually, that's inordinately appropriate. The number of people that I could refer to using that acronym, though replaced with more ... expletive-y words, is quite large. ;D

Because of the way my browser is set up, whenever I use any normal keyboard shortcuts for moving quickly between words, it launches iTunes. So unintentionally I get to listen to some music. If the fates have me launch a program without intending to do so and if it isn't all that bad, why the fuck not, right?

Another day passes me by. What's next? Anything interesting? I suppose I should take charge and lead my life in some direction of random curiosity. Rather than waiting for the random to take charge of me and lead me astray.

Wearing these absolutely wonderful anti-glare glasses. Yeah, it may sound real and proper dorkish to be wearing such things, but it's true - they fucking work. Staring at computer (and TV screens) for extended periods is no longer a strain and headache producing activity. Strange how it seems like it's the random purchases in life that seem to work best. I think I picked these up for 2 bucks cause they were on sale from work. The same way I got my first iPod. And now I don't think I'd want to go without an iPod. Yeah, a bit too expensive to be a random purchase, but that it was. And the stereo.

Story of my life - moment of my life, I mean. Saturday morning with the sun sneaking through the blinds as I lazily lie in bed. Turning on a stereo (which was a random purchase too) to play Dredg "Same Ol' Road" - the bass turned up high enough to make my bed frame rumble. This was my moment of heaven.

There have been others. Of course. It would be an all too bland life if there weren't. There will be more. Soon enough.

Subway wasn't special today. Too crowded in the afternoon to be appreciated as a random sub buyer. Sub connoisseur. Best time to go is in the morning. In this town at least - where no one really thinks of them for a breakfast meal. Not that it's particularly healthier to eat there over the McDonald's or KFC's of the world. But it's still a nice place to be and to go. I think.

I'll end this for this moment. Just this moment and not another.

Google your way here? I did

There was a link on google and here I turned up - not really expecting to blog, but so it happened to proceed. And this is where I be. Without any preparation or clue of what I should be saying - no general theme like I sometimes aim for. Ooh - scared yet? I know I am.

Wow! I really have nothing to say. It's been five minutes since I started this and I'm struggling to come up with something good to talk about. There were shit people at work today - fucking bullies. And more fuck-ups to generally aggravate a disturbed soul. What is one supposed to do?

I hate computers sometimes - when they go wrong, specifically, cause there's only so much that you can actually do before there is no hope of getting anything right. Cause it's just going to fuck up in the end. Or when it does, it' s like a kick in the balls! WHACK! You thought you were a big man, right? For figuring out how to work this shit? Well, you were WRONG! WHACK!

Need to write a book called obsession. The latest one in my steamy and saucy life (wow!) is Subway. The whole sub-of-the-day thing where one could save as little as 30 pence or as much as 60 pence and get a 6-inch sub for 2 quid. Whooptee-doo! And the people there. Was served by the happiest person ever ... ah, I've already mentioned this, haven't I? I really was taken by this. And I'm not easily impressed! WOAH! Look at that outside - A BLUE CAR!

iTunes tells me a new version is out. But there aren't any release notes. So how the fuck am I supposed to know why Apple wants me to download a new version. Maybe it's their way of putting more corporate spyware on my computer. I wouldn't doubt it. It's only paranoia when it isn't true. ;D

eBay is truly amazing. Needed something and BAM! There it was. A treasure trove of human communication - the way of the future will eliminate the need for shops. Just the major suppliers, distributors and the rest being traded on eBay. Like a farming community, only dvd players will still be made in factories by tons of folks managed by a corporate body, but this will all be direct to order for the consumer. Consumption may be taxed, but trade amongst the consumers will not. Limiting this meaningless human encounter within our shops to a far more acceptable minimum. Then no piece of shit people thinking they rule the world because they have five pounds to spend in a shop. HA!

Till the next random link brings me here once more.

Gardening in the streets of Athens

You see, I constantly wonder why I'm here - well not constantly - and not ... here, per se, but rather "here" as in this blogging place. To say something. I find this utterly fascinating. In case you hadn't already guessed that. Bizarre, no?

The mention of Athens is inspired by the latest game I've been playing and, yes to all the gamers out there, I know that this is quite a bit old so there's nothing amazing about it, but for those who haven't played it (and are above the requisite age limit in their respective countries) "God of War" is a guilty pleasure of an action game the likes of which no console game comes close. Yes, one could argue that Ninja Gaiden sets the bar so high that nothing could come close, but I would disagree wholeheartedly. For you non-gamer folk, just imagine God of War to be the best ... depiction? Would that be right? I don't know - well, think of it as the "best" depiction of mythological war. It's just ... fucking great.

So this week, the 11th book in the Wheel of Time series comes out. I am so fucking excited, man. It's like a moment to remember - I don't think there's any book out there that has spoken to me like the Wheel of Time books. Well, considering there are ten of them, it would have to be one pretty fucking big book. I mean - I'm asking for it from the LotR fans out there - but this world blows the saga of the rings out of the water. In terms of complexity and depth, characters, fucking epic scale. I find it hard to believe that no one has turned to lap this up and turn it into the biggest thing since the Ham & Cheese sandwich was first conceived which, by the by, is one of the best sandwiches ever. It's simple enough that you don't have to go through bizarre procedures of preparation. And, with the right and random condiment, it becomes something else. With ketchup, awesomeness. Throw in some mayo and you're looking at something good still. And you can even toast it and turn it into something else entirely.

I hate people who can't keep their word. On the smallest level - not even a word, but when you say that you're going out to do something and that you'll rush back, that you will come back, perhaps not with unabated haste, but at least come back sooner rather than hanging around returning hours later and then asking you to feed her fucking child when she should have taken care of it in the first place.

Reasons why I'll never be a parent. I can't stand them or their rotten children.

And then you're targeted when you don't meet your end of the "bargain" - I really can't stand some people some times - perhaps even all of the people most of the time. Certain folk, I would lay down my life for - whether they know it or not, no matter how much or little I know of who they really are. I don't know why. But others ... no. I wouldn't care.

I I I I.

Till another day when the cat crows.

Why would someone leave a comment like this?

Military issues content warning to combat-zone bloggers
By Leo Shane III , Stars and Stripes Mideast edition, Saturday, October 1, 2005 Some guidelines There are new OPSEC guidelines which have been put forth by DOD and the Army regarding internet safety.
Find out how you can buy and sell anything, like things related to music on interest free credit and pay back whenever you want! Exchange FREE ads on any topic, like music!

--
Posted by Anonymous to The Wild Beyond at 10/01/2005 12:33:50 AM


[Insert A LOT of swearing and cursing here - directed at this Anonymous piece of monkey pooh]

Carnage in an African Wardrobe

Being the avid ... perhaps addicted gamer that I am, I face some difficult choices this season. With all the new systems on their way, I find myself unable to choose less than one artistic experience a week to indulge in. Yes, a videogame for those of you who don't agree with my argument for games to be declared as forms of art. But ... so be that.

Today's been a long and mentally trying day. No - not one of those days where the world, its dog and bastard nephew turn up to yank your balls. More of a ... too-many-things-for-brain-to-focus-on. Some things important, others not-so. Take the staff at Subway today - I was served by the happiest people on the planet this morning for my mega sub breakfast thingamajigger - this left quite an impression on me. I was taken. Infatuated by their happiness.

And then at work, well, more of the same old shit. Stupid people wanting stupid things. But more so with new issues of pride and human politics, which I try to steer away from, but find myself ever entangled within. The mind-games that everyone else seems to be playing ... I'm always playing catch-up or a game of guess-the-game. Cause I don't really have the slightest clue or subconscious care to keep up with these petty matters. Or so I like to tell myself.

I discovered today that someone had been searching for "Sexy Alice in Wonderland Costumes" and "Sexy Little Red Riding Hood Costumes" in ebay from my computer. A bit ... surprised to say the least. I mean, if I found a search for "Jenna Jameson's Greatest Bits" I probably would have just taken a look myself. But the costumes - threw me off completely. Still took a look, but ... yeah - unexpected randomness.

Till the next moment of pause.

The Return to Dissertations of Lamentation

Hello again those who return to read this return of my own to the blogging world. In breaking this "fourth wall" of your browser, I hope to go where only 2 billion bloggers have gone before me. Excited? I know I am - as excited as the time I saw the Space Pope swallow two Banana Squirrels deep within the Amazon jungle. Good times, for sure.

It's nice to have a voice. Be it in the material reality or even this simulated version of it - pixels and numbers and bugs and all. A voice is important. I mean ... in watching the people that hover round - you see it in action all the time. When there are no voices, it all just stops. People talk over and across and around and even through each other. In this reality too - when the voices have no substance ... my words fall flat even as I try to make sense of them, do they not?

A while back, at an older job, there used to be this music video I watched regularly on the TV's hovering around. By this singer ... Jamelia, I think. Superstar was the name of the song. If any of you have actually seen the video, this might make a bit more sense. Now, aside from sounding racist, I don't usually find black women that attractive - just personal taste. But this Jamelia in the video was quite pretty. Singing across from the street or something (the memory fades), I recall thinking - she's really nice to look at. And not in a lewd way - just ... pretty.

And so it goes - and further I would get drawn into the song and the visuals of this beautiful specimen of the female of our species. But then it reaches the third act of the video and, to my horror, she suddenly appears in a club, on stage, disgustingly "tarted up." I know I probably sound really stupid and conservative, but that's not my point. I just recall feeling ... sad in a way ... that here was this really pretty girl, all decked out with a gallon of "lipstick, polish and paint" and I would be surprised to find someone who actually thought she looked better in that closing section than in the beginning. If there is one who disagrees with me on this, leave a comment. I'm curious. A minor lamentation.

Another is the inability to communicate the most basic of thoughts to people I need to do so with. You're separated by a million miles and however many years. You wonder about plausibility and the way one is supposed to communicate. How well do you know this person all that time away? A figment of my imagination, at best. And all it feels like is stumbling in the dark with each word. For a sentence that gets through the static of time and memories, you feel elation that is subdued by the weight of sadness that bears down on you - the difficulty of just saying what you want said. And for it to be understood the way you wish it to. And for that person to ... react the way you would have intended for them to. And then everything else to just follow on "logically" from that. It doesn't work that way - just in the naive mind of one such as I.

Music compells me sometimes. Well, recently, there has been some music that has completely moved me - Coheed and Cambria, Audioslave - their latest albums have been of another level. They speak to me in a way that little music does. There is a lot - but they have a hold on me right now. There's a voice in the guitar play in Audioslave's rhythms. The battle of violins and ... guitars again in Coheed and Cambria. Vocals crying out to be heard. Stories being told - passionate encounters of man, beast and everything in between. And then there's the new System of a Down. To anyone who doesn't take to their music readily, I might seem like a metalhead, but let it be said that in these three bands and their latest work, there is so much beauty that it feels like I might explode from trying to embrace it. So much beauty in this world sometimes ... ;D

Till another day.

The Point of All This

Recently read: Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk, Perfume by Patrick Suskind

The latter being an absolutely amazing book - of such creativity and rare depth, I couldn't believe what I was reading. The former ... a bit of a disappointment, truth be told - I fucking love Palahniuk's books and stories and, yet, this one felt ... hollow and empty. His writing has grown old or at least the same message told in the same way, though interesting in the beginning grows weary and tiresome by the end. Leaving you just feeling unwell or uneasy if you have a weak stomach. Or just ... bored.

On my front, I'm trying to write again - this time for someone. So ... woo hoo for me, I suppose. Excited as I am in the beginning, and coming to the point where every idea I propose in my head is questioned as being ridiculous and unnecessary. I should just allow myself to write and come up with something and then chop it out later if needed. Create something before you destroy it, kind sir.

Life rolls on otherwise. I feel a mild euphoria that fades in and out and mingles with sadness and worry/fear. I don't know why I have reason to be, but I am happy with the simple things. I've come to love the train rides. Really, really love them. As wonderful times for myself to be by myself. Just there. In another zone, if you will. I don't have to look out the window to watch the fields of green and skies of blue. Or the mish-mash of electricity and telephone wires all around me. The concrete jungles interrupted by minor forests of timber and leaves. Or even to see a red moon, glowing like some unholy sphere in the dying embers of daylight. No, the train ride is special and something that I really enjoy. I savour it.

I don't so much enjoy the walk home. Less so if the bag is heavy. Even less so if the folks at home are awake. Or even the walk to the station to begin the journey. I don't enjoy people so much as I do the notion of them and their existence. Their fully-fleshed out personas serving better as puppets in stories than as living, breathing entities that stink or make noise or generally pollute the visual framework of my world.

You know when you wait so long to hear a certain piece of news. Just hoping and praying that something might happen. And then ... unbelievably it does. What do you do then? Did you ever think about what you could and would do in that unlikeliest of scenarios that has just transpired? Where your actions aren't hampered by reality and its constraints?

I depart now. Return someday soon.

No Story

I've decided not to post it. Might be an unsafe idea - not the nicest of topics and definitely will piss some people off and/or offend others. So ... yeah - there you have that

Counting Down from Fifty-Nine (59)

If the oceans and seas were like wires and cables ... I don't know. Well, who would, but - starting again. I'm looking around and there's a bit of reorganization in the air. The smell of rubber, black and white, and the metal on the plug points. Well ... if you go up real close to a box in which you've dumped all your cables (or game controllers, like I have), then there is a certain smell that's unique and different from the general mustiness prevalent in stuff that's been packed away for even a short while.

I went to a bookstore this weekend. Found three books - The Annotated Alice, The Idiot and some book by Chekhov. About comedy, I think. Whatever - I was stoked. Found these books that I had been wanting to read for a while (except Chekhov) and there they were magically arranged in front of me. Actually, no, I was looking for the Brothers Karamazov, not the idiot, but that's not the point - I was happy. So I went to the cafe, had a mocha (which wasn't as good as it was supposed to be) and then walked out of the store an hour later cause they were closing, still jubilant. Only to realize at this point - I forgot to buy the damn books. I imagine they remain there on that coffee table to this day ... or not. Probably not. But it's a nice thought that they would remain there waiting for me unless otherwise altered by an external force. Newton, you truly were right.

If I ever come to understand women, I think it will be entirely too late. Not that I had any specific women troubles, but over the past weekend (yes, it truly has been an eventful one), I encountered a situation that I knew would be bad as I went into it. And, in the aftermath, I see I was right. Not that anything bad happened. But it has wrought havoc on my mind, cause in spite of all the logical arguments that there are, I can't make heads or tails of it. BUT ... having said that, the one true argument is "obvious" and I refuse to see it because I want to believe otherwise. Cryptic and confusing enough for you yet?

Woah. Here's an idea. I'll post a story. It's ... yeah - I'll put that up. Why not. I just wrote it. And no one is really going to read it. So yeah, that'll be the next post. Up real soon. Only, you'll probably have read that before this, so this kind of ... epiphany of sorts is wasted in this medium. Too bad.

For the power of gorgonzola.

"Stick With It" Wallpaper 

Sober Cow-Haiku Wallpaper 

Carving An Egyptian Sandstorm

Green and Yellow sausage-dogs decorate this coffee cup of mine. Well ... the yellow one has red polka dots and the green has purple polka dots. Yellow on top on a blue background. Green below on a yellow background. And they're separated by something that looks like a flattened cog pattern of aquamarine and red. Amazing.

And inside is this Mocha coffee thingamajigger that's actually pretty good - came from one of those long thin stick packets that look like sugar sachets, the long, stick kind, obviously.

The hiatus has been long and it has truly been ... bleak? Well ... not entirely. It could be far worse. I could be dead. I could be crippled. Or I could be - k, I'm leaving this topic. On to the more positive.

Yes! The Xbox 360 has been revealed. Well, the screenshots were out last week or so anyway, but it's still interesting to read about it. That excitement that comes from the unpredictability of the next generation of consoles. Oooh, the posibilities - your imagination runs wild and you gasp in wonder at the first videos featuring the sharper new graphics, stunning real-time lighting and shadows and gory wonder of Condemned from Sega. The irony makes me feel sick. Is it ironic? If so, why? Please - let me know. This could be a good debate for the intellectually inclined gamer or general moron even.

I grow tired of saying "Hello" and "Hi" - yeah, like I have to say it to SOOO many people every day, uh huh - but moving on with this, I've decided to come up with new words. The obvious ones are "Yello" and "Fi," but if you want to be a bit more adventurous, try out "Sigh" and "Why" or even just ... "Jumblejop" - it'll take anyone by surprise.

JUMBLE! JOOPPPPP! There's a budweiser commercial 50 years in the making. I reckon it'll take about that long for the word to become as widespread as the plague.

Hottest day of the year is the 12th of August. Supposedly. Out here at least. Note to self: Don't be here.

Till next a car rolls on a distant dune.