CK Question 13

I dislike spanish. (This sentence has been edited).

Anyway,

13. Every person you have ever slept with is invited to a banquet where you are the guest of honor. No one will be in attendance except you, the collection of your former lovers, and the catering service. After the meal, you are asked to give a fifteen-minute speech to the assembly.

What do you talk about?

13. Seeing as there isn't anyone yet, that'd be a pretty lonely banquet lol. Who asks me to give a 15 minute speech to the assembly?? One of my former lovers, since they and the catering service are the only ones there (and the catering service better keep their mouths shut I paid them for one thing and one thing only)? Seeing as that must be true, then no one asked me to do a speech, meaning the second part of this question is totally invalid. But let's just say I had many lovers over the span of my life and I must now address them. Do they know that they were all my lovers? I mean they know they are to me, but are they all aware that everyone in the room has had sex with me? Either way, I'd probably read some story I wrote dripping with sexual innuendos, and I would make suggestive glances to all lovers still interested while I said each suggestive word.

Also, I'm trying to work on stories a little more productively...some success some not. That's all I'll say for now.

The Pocket Mouth

He walked the sidewalks alone. Taking in the same old views and watching as other people laughed and talked, unaware of his loneliness. In an instant, he was angry and jealous at how happy they could be when he was not, but he sighed, and came to the realization that, really, they weren't responsible for his happiness.

The higher-ups, the ones in charge. They seemed to have a little more responsibility about these things, and where were they? But, they weren't responsible for his happiness either, and how could they? How could anybody? How could anybody have the time for him and him alone to ensure he was on his way to being simply happy?

People didn't like him initially, it was just something he gathered over time and had grown accostumed to. He couldn't pinpoint exactly why, but it seemed that people were a little more judgemental when it came to him. But it didn't bother him, not in the small scheme of things. One passes, and another. But time after time hurts, and thus he is left to self-reflection and loneliness with no one to blame but himself.

And one could say, really, that it is entirely his fault. But not so entirely as to isolate and blame him fully. How can you approach someone who has made up their mind about you before you had said a word?

Surprise was his friend. Chance, circumstance, luck. If he could catch someone off-guard before they had a chance to think, he would have more of a chance. But this isn't something he planned, this is something he had to wait for, because he had to be surprised too. Forced situations worked towards his favor, as he wasn't an awkward kid, only assumed to be, and therefore avoided. But when one could not avoid, they might learn.

Not to say that everyone that was forced to start conversation, or forced into a position in which he would start conversation, would actually enjoy the company of the kid, but at least he would be given a chance to have them make up their mind before they could ignore him.

In this fashion, he has secured himself many friends. Those who do not know, and he does not know, as he does not calculate when or who to strike, again, merely relies on chance, have become pedastals of conversation, trust and companionship.

Perhaps all of these thoughts brooding in his mind for entire days is what wards off these people. They wouldn't know it themselves, why they had feelings against starting a conversation with a random guy, but subconciously they would realize that the breadth of his thoughts was too much to bear for normal conversation and perhaps he would become clingy or desperate for a friendship when in reality these thoughts simply disappear when a person appears that seems unusually friendly in the large bestiary of shut mouths.

Or perhaps, it is not what they see in his eyes, but what they don't see in his eyes, and the rest of his body. Perhaps these people are only attracted to sexy undertones by the handsome man's physique that they did not see in him (whether he had it or not - and whether the conversation was entirely platonic or not). Men notwithstanding of course, except for the liberally erotic.

Or maybe the people are simply too lazy to add another person to their lives. How easy it is to attach yourself to another being of which you have a non-tangible but somewhat mutually relatable connection to - a roommate, a family member, a peer from your old school who you may not even talk to, someone who has the same birthday, a person you shared a cupcake with etc - which could happen to him on account of chance, something similar to sharing a moment of sameness with another that unites them. Usually in his case, it ends with awkward looks the other way and embarrasment of at least one party involved.

In any case, he fashioned and doomed himself, as concluded with multiple encounters of silence from, what he thought to be, confident "hellos" and "how are yous", as a man not to be socialized with. How can one argue the irrefutable point proven time and time again, regardless of ethnicity, age or intelligence? He will have to await the next time the divine dice rolls triple sevens again to offer him a slim chance at a new friend.

Notes August 28th

Now I don't want to post every little thought I have on here, but some.

I was watching a movie in which a man told a story about how one of his professors told him he had no writing talent, and thus be responded in a vulgar way and moved to New York where he published over a hundred stories in a course of a year. Each one of these stories he sent back to his professor to prove to him he was wrong saying that revenge was a wonderful thing for everybody to experience.

So...if I want people to send me their writing, tell them they will be terrible? I guess that would only work with the most tenacious ones, otherwise they might just give up.

Blank

I wouldn't write a guide on how to write poetry, which is what I was going to title this originally, because I think its a little beyond my understanding. I don't really know if anyone could give a guide on writing poetry unless it included lots of caveats and conditionals, and even then a poet could find an exception to these rules. So basically, there are no rules. No guidelines even I suppose.

Tell me, which sounds more like poetry. Or looks like. Or seems like. Whatever.

There is something to to be said about the single unlit light on a crosswalk. Although it has the misfortune of a broken wire or uncooperative bulb, it stands out from the rest as morbidly unique in its inability to produce light. Its friends shine brightly on without it, and it may feel alone, but it doesn't know that it has surpassed the beauty of light simply by not having one.

Now before I add breaks to the sentences, which seems to me, poetry does consistently, I wanted to first focus on the last sentence. I typed it out and then I thought to myself how unique badness was in the presence of good. Or perhaps that isn't the right wording. Misfortune in the presence of fortune. I know that the light would have never been noticed on its own (assuming its twilight and we can see the light well enough and see that it should be lit and is not - clarifying that we don't see the light not because it is dark but because it is not lit). But when you put it with other lights who shine as they should, one takes a second glance and notices the absence more acutely.

Is this metaphor accurate for people? I always try to apply it to people. My first thought was autism - that a person who has autism is only really noticed around people that do not, but of course, no person could be noticed without other people to notice them, unless you believe in a God, or some omnipresent being (reminds me of the often parodied question: "if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?") And I suppose in that way, the metaphor can't really be accurate for people. But maybe in some other way I haven't thought of yet. Comments anyone?

Ok, so the point I was getting to. Does this seem more like poetry?

Absence

There is something to to be said

about the single unlit light on a crosswalk

although it has the misfortune of a broken wire

or uncooperative bulb

it stands out from the rest as morbidly unique

in its inability to produce light

its friends shine brightly on without it

it may feel alone

but it doesn't know that it has surpassed the beauty of light

simply by not having one

I would agree with the 90% - 100% out there, that the second sounds more like poetry (ignoring that the skill of the writing is nothing close to phenomenal, and ignoring the arguments that it is so badly written it couldn't even be called poetry in the first place, in either form). The breaks between each thought makes the reader think a little more rather than simply reading forward and thinking very little about what has been said. I still think the first example could be called poetry, even though it doesn't follow the standard form as presented by the second.

Maybe I'm just full of crap.

CK Question 12

I saw Eating the Dinosaur in the bookstore today. I wanted to buy it but it costs money. By now I don't even remember what I wrote to each of these questions.

12. You meet a wizard in downtown Chicago. The wizard tells you he can make you more attractive if you pay him money. When you ask how this process works, the wizard points to a random person on the street. You look at this random stranger. The wizard says, "I will now make them a dollar more attractive." He waves his magic wand. Ostensibly, this person does not change at all; as far as you can tell, nothing is different. But--somehow--this person is suddenly a little more appealing. The tangible difference is invisible to the naked eye, but you can't deny that this person is vaguely sexier. This wizard has a weird rule, though--you can only pay him once. You can't keep giving him money until you're satisfied. You can only pay him one lump sum up front.

How much cash do you give the wizard?

12. Let's see, a dollar made the person vaguely sexier you say? I don't know, probably around $50. Now, anyway. Who knows what my financial or physical status will be when I meet this wizard. Is it relevant that I meet him in Chicago? I mean, if I just got in a car crash or something, I'd probably pay him more. But if I just lost my virginity or something I'd probably have pretty high confidence, so I'd pay him less. I know there are a lot more conditionals I add to these questions but hey, these are things to be considered. I'd probably get my friend to try it out first and if $50 didn't make them satisfactorily (yeah that's a word I guess) sexier, then I would pay more than they did. Sorry man.

Addition (I read over it and added this today): Seeing as the person is only vaguely sexier, I would be forced to assume the wizard only acts on placebos, or tricks of the eye. I would first have to see him make someone much more attractive before I could believe that it was true.

Yes - 90125

I was writing something else when I had thought of the album and decided to write a little about how awesome it is.

Yes - 90125 is the best album for getting over a breakup ever. The album seems to go in a row to get you to feel better about breaking up, which could be why my dad likes the band so much, though I have been fortunate enough not to have to use it like that. Heres the song list (thanks to wikipedia);

"Owner of a Lonely Heart" (Anderson/Horn/Rabin/Squire) – 4:29

"Hold On" (Anderson/Rabin/Squire) – 5:16

"It Can Happen" (Anderson/Rabin/Squire) – 5:29

"Changes" (Anderson/Rabin/White) – 6:20

"Cinema" (Kaye/Rabin/Squire/White) – 2:08

"Leave It" (Horn/Rabin/Squire) – 4:14

"Our Song" (Anderson/Kaye/Rabin/Squire/White) – 4:18

"City of Love" (Anderson/Rabin) – 4:51

"Hearts" (Anderson/Kaye/Rabin/Squire/White) – 7:39

It seems to me that the first song establishes that the listener is lonely, and thus captures them into listening as they feel those emotions. The lyrics themselves tell the listener that he must go on, and that you make your own future. Give it another chance. To take it easy and let chances and circumstance guide your adventure because you yourself are great while still reminding you that loneliness is part of life. I hadn't looked up the lyrics before but I did for this mini-review, and I must say they are pretty magical.

"Hold On" counterbalances the first song, by telling the listener to hold on, to keep going. It acknowledges that what happened to the listener may not be fair while others around him are happy, but stays with the message of holding on, to stay happy through the hard times and let life take its course with you, as things will turn up.

"It Can Happen" is another chapter of the same story. It tells the listener that you can decieve yourself by sulking around and believing you've lost your life, but really, it can change. And it will change. It Can Happen tells the listener that love can happen and will happen. Theres an amazing world out there you have to see.

"Changes" reminds the reader again of their lost love, but in an accepting manner. That what they had is now gone. The song is actually kind of spiteful towards the significant other. That one, he is changing in the way her love affected him, and two, that he must accept the change that they are now apart.

"Cinema" is an instrumental track, for distraction and introduction to the second half of the album.

"Leave It" is telling the listener to, well, leave it. Leave the past behind, leave her/him alone. Leave the sad, leave the bad, move on to another adventure.

"Our Song" is a joyful song about travelling around and having new experiences. Its a very happy song, though the title seems to reference the old, "our song" meaning the song you used to share with your significant other. But maybe it means that you can celebrate your song alone without needing anyone else.

"City of Love" is another adventurous song in a city. Talking about people, lights, sights, differences. Having a good time downtown.

"Hearts" is the final song of the album and wraps up with the message that love is all around you. Hearts is referencing all the hearts of the people around you, in the city, at home, wherever you go. All the hearts you have experienced and all the hearts you will experience and all the love they have to give you. To revert you back to days of old when love was new and fantastic. To put yourself out there once again because love is worth it.

Poetry

I'll be short because I feel like I've said this too many times but I know my blog is devoid of this thought.

This I wrote a couple days ago.

Sometimes I think writing (poetry specifically) is simply a celebration of mediocrity. But my peers think otherwise, as they can talk at lengths about an 8 line poem about clothespins. Its a nice thought, sure, but it seems to belong in a larger collection of thoughts not simply on its own. Perhaps writing has affirmative action built in - all sizes, shapes and colors accomodated even if one piece is significantly, and/or obviously superior.

I always thought poetry was writing for those who couldn't write, but my class has taught me to think a little harder than that. Not that poetry is an intelligent act, but it certainly is a thinker's act. Anything that springs a thought counts as writing. I suppose I have lowered my standards, but in doing so, have opened my doors much wider to writing. So don't knock on poetry is what I'm saying.

Interesting, They Are

I believe in innocence

I believe in the kid in people that hasn't grown at all

since their physical body matured

I believe that everyone has a story to tell

and that every one of us can tell it well

I believe that no person is boring

they may simply lack the tools to describe how interesting they are

I believe that any person is capable of believing

anything

And here comes my analyzation of my own text. It seems to me a little odd, to read an author's thoughts on his own writing as a stranger reading. But I guess writers can really do anything they want to. Regardless, this is my opinion on that little paragraph up there.

Its a little sentimental I suppose, and its a little wishy washy, and its mostly hopeful.

That is a poem by the way. I didn't realize since I didn't read poetry, but that potentially is a poem. Now that my thought is separated into different lines, it becomes more than just a thought, or maybe not more than a thought, but labeled as poetry. The title came from a quote my teacher told the class from another poet - to find the title of your poem look three lines up from the bottom and take the last three words. I am a big fan of quirky or oddball titles, so I like to take things like that as they are, to see what kind of weird title I get.

I also think the poem could do without the first line.

CK Question 10-11

I've been writing but I don't feel like posting anything here. I just don't have the time. I'll post some at some point...but its personal journalistic stuff and I probably won't post anything like that.

10 isn't a good question. Believe me. Google these questions and find out yourself if you don't trust me.

11. You are watching a movie in a crowded theater. Though the plot is mediocre, you find yourself dazzled by the special effects. But with twenty minutes left in the film, you are struck with an undeniable feeling of doom: You are suddenly certain your mother has just died. There is no logical reason for this to be true, but you are certain of it. You are overtaken with the irrational metaphysical sense that--somewhere--your mom has just perished. But this is only an intuitive, amorphous feeling; there is no evidence for this, and your mother has not been ill.

Would you immediately exit the theater, or would you finish watching the movie?

11. Special effects? Maybe the feeling of my mother's doom was a special effect as well?? I'm not really a special effects man, and if the plot was mediocre then why would I really want to know the ending of that kind of movie? (Sounds like Avatar to me). I imagine a feeling like that would probably kill my movie watching mood, so I'd probably walk out of the theater. Call my mom to see if my feeling was alright or not. I think a feeling like that would have low priority on my list (not undermining the horrible tragedy of my mother's death, I'm saying the feeling specifically), but a mediocre movie is even lower on that list. Plus, I think I'm pretty intuitive, so I would probably trust my feelings something on that. I can always see it on DVD or something later.

Also 30 hits! Cool stuff.

School and stuff

I was thinking about putting some stuff on my blog, but I've forgotten them now.

We had class today, on a sunday. I don't know who plans that but it happened.

Meeting new people here. At college. Might give you a clue about my age I suppose, for all of you strangers to me.

Anyway, I'm real dry of ideas at the moment. I think all day and then come on here and nothing.

Networking

Alright readers, I've been adding stuff so I can track the amount of traffic through this place (more visitors means more motivation means more posts!). I've added a facebook page as well, which will be slowly meshing together with this blog so people can go back and forth easily between them.

Facebook page!!

You all can click that link and like that page and I'll be updating there so you can be notified on your facebook feed! So cool! This means you won't have to come here to check if I've made a new post or not, but sometimes you probably will since I probably won't post every new blog update. Some of them are kinda meaningless you know?

So you have a few options. You can go there and like that facebook page, which means updates to your feed, you can go to the bottom of every post and click any of those little icons, one of them being for facebook, to share a single post with all your friends on facebook, or you can go to the bottom of the entire page and click Like with an option to share.

Anyway, things are scattered and messy at the moment. Building both pages up one step at a time. Thank all of you for reading and I hope you decide to follow my blog in the future!

Yo Cults

Hey just chilling here. Its pretty late, I mean early. 4 am, you decide. Wanted to sleep hours ago but couldn't get comfortable, as usual in this house. Have been really lazy about my dreams, but listening to some low key music really makes them seem much more interesting. Only got one more day to pack, we'll see how that goes. Trying not to think too much about the future, its a little depressing at the moment. Not in a lot of ways, but one.

Anyway, making a post because a while ago I said something about cults and never followed up on it. But as I was transferring some writing to notepads I found something I wrote in class about cults a little while ago. I'm guessing you want to read that huh?

Realizing things about yourself can sometimes be a little frightening. A cult doesn't seem like a bad idea to me. An alliance of men and women who collectively have an identity and can uniquely carry this identity wherever they go. The mafia, the Yakuza, each person an extension of a union. Individuality is somewhat lost, but in the name of a greater cause. So many intricate lives part of a simpler idea of Union, rather than separate but equal. See, these words may be inspiring, but the word 'cult' still strikes an unneccessary fear.

Eh, so only a little bit, but still more than "more on this later". So I hope all you people who have been sending me so many messages and profusely commenting about when I was going to finish my ideas, there you have it (sarcasm).

I guess I ought to get some sort of labeling system for my posts so you all can search through them easier or something. Whatever, just read everything lol.

New Stuff

So I read an enthralling story lately. It's really bizarre in its own way but captivating. You'll have to read it to see what I mean. Its called The Terrible Secret of Animal Crossing. It tells a story of one man's journey through the game, though its not what you would expect.

Also stumbled upon (not with the application but on my own), a funny site called Lamebook. Its got facebook posts that are funny and/or lame. Its like people of walmart and other sites like that.

Both links are added to the List.

CK: Question 9

Sometimes, I'll feel really gigantic. I don't really get it, but I just feel bigger than I did yesterday. Like my body is just too large. I tower over tables and they seem much further away than they did only a little while ago. Everything seems shorter. Here's another question.

9. A novel titled Interior Mirror is released to mammoth commerical success (despite middling reviews). However, a curious social trend emerges: Though no one can prove a direct scientific link, it appears that almost 30 percent of the people who read this book immediately become homosexual. Many of these newfound homosexuals credit the book for helping them reach this conclusion about their orientation, despite the fact that Interior Mirror is ostensibly a crime novel with no homoerotic content (and was written by a straight man).

Would this phenomenon increase (or decrease) the liklihood of you reading this book?

9. Probably increase it. I'm all about discovering stuff about myself and if the book just so happens to make me look inward and find something like that, then I guess that's the true me (unlikely). I also believe I have a fairly firm stance on myself already and I'm kind of stubborn, so I don't really think I would fall under the 30% swayed to homosexuality. I would probably do research on the type of people that have become homosexual after reading the book and see if any of them are like me. If every single one of them is just like me...well then I probably wouldn't read the book, even if afterwards I knew I would enjoy being gay. I enjoy being straight too much as it is to risk it. Hows that for not answering the question? lol.

CK: Question 8

8. You meet the perfect person. Romantically, this person is ideal: You find them physically attractive, intellectually stimulating, consistently funny, and deeply compassionate. However, they have one quirk: This individual is obsessed with Jim Henson's gothic puppet fantasy The Dark Crystal. Beyond watching it on DVD at least once a month, he/she peppers casual conversation with Dark Crystal references, uses Dark Crystal analogies to explain everyday events, and occasionally likes to talk intensely about the film's "deeper philosophy."

Would this be enough to stop you from marrying this individual?

8. Why did you have to make it a puppet fantasy...those are the only things I have nightmares about. If they are anything like those damn dirty muppets from Labyrinth then this makes the decision very difficult for me. I'm not going to google it or something in fear that they will be. Its 4 am here and I don't want to go to sleep with those in my head. Anyway, yeah this would probably kill me. Especially if she kept posters or something in the bedroom. Nothing screams flaccid like a dirty muppet watching me do my thing. And she'd make me watch it too I know it. Maybe if I saw the movie I'd change my mind, but I mean she could be a terrible decorator and terrible at cleaning around the house and lazy, which is equally important to me finding her attractive, so I mean if she was lazy as well as a dark crystal fanatic, then its really no contest. I won't go so far to say I'd rather die alone, but I'd find another woman.

CK: Question 7

7. Defying all expectation, a group of Scottish marine biologists capture a live Loch Ness Monster. In an almost unbelievable coincidence, a bear hunter in the Pacific Northwest shoots a Sasquatch in the thigh, thereby allowing zoologists to take the furry monster into captivity. These events happen on the same afternoon. That evening, the president announces he may have thyroid cancer and will undergo a biopsy later that week.

You are the front page editor of The New York Times: What do you play as the biggest story?

7. Ha, journalism. Well, first, no one cares about the president. Sorry, but you'll be okay old man, lots of people go through bad times. Theres a vice president for a reason (and I hate tabloids, even of important people - quote of the day: "Religion is just one big tabloid").

OBVIOUSLY this would be played as a double feature. Something like "Mythical beasts come in twos!" and I would report info about how the Loch Ness Monster and Sasquatch were found (reported in alphabetical order, so no discrimination over which is more famous). The president will be on like page 4 or something, where the people who care can read about him (or her omg! covering my generalizations for feminists). The Loch Ness Monster is a bigger catch in my opinion however. I mean gorillas exist, but huge sea snakes?

Gods Facebook

http://www.bspcn.com/2008/11/12/gods-facebook-wall/

Its pretty funny. Thought I would share.

Also, if all goes according to plan, I'll be transferring a lot of stuff from notebooks to my laptop and hopefully reworking my "portfolio" (a folder I call "words" with tons of notepad files). So I might post some stuff from that in the coming weeks. Etc etc.

Good Movies List

This would be easier to put on my blog so I can find it. Feel free to tell me these movies suck lol.

(In no particular order)

Moon
AI: Artificial Intelligence
Payback
What Dreams May Come
The Bothersome Man
Bicentennial Man
Being John Malkovich
Blindness
Surrogates (movie was ok, the idea was fantastic)
Shawshank Redemption (should be on everyone's list)
Taxi Driver
District 9
Lucky Number Sleven
Donnie Darko
The Count of Monte Cristo
Time Machine (with Guy Pierce)
Yes Man
Gran Torino
The Aviator
Akira (so weird)
Office Space
The Prestige
Catch Me if you Can
Die Hard
Religulous
Memento
12 Monkeys

Revolver

No Country For Old Men

Something I wrote in March

Next time you find yourself shopping at the local Cirilla's (an adult novelties and entertainment store), try asking for the return policy.

I was going to put more than that in this post, but honestly, I really only started this to put that thought down. I didn't write the thought down in March, I just changed it because that's what I'm making this post about. This is pretty much what I imagine when I write.

March 3rd, 2010.

It repeated. The desert he was in was flat. It just kept repeating. His life. An endless repetition. He used the same words over and over. He thought the same words over and over. He thought that his life was repeating, but thats all he ever thought, and therefore fulfilled his own self prophecy. He would think, my life is just the same thing over and over. Then he would think it again. And again, and again, and again. His life was a repetition in the practice of repetion. Was it choice? It seemed like he could not get out of the loop.

He drank from his glass and set it back down. He didn't pay any attention to it. He worked for hours. Typing. Typing. Words coming from his fingertips and transforming into pixels on the page. Backspace, he made a mistake. He clicked in the wrong place, starting typing between a word...didn't realize it for a little but then he noticed. He was typing in the middle of nowhere, right in the middle of the h. He took another drink.

The fact that his fingers never grew tired didn't bother him. Why would it bother anybody. He would probably be bothered to know that all text that was not on his screen disappeared forever, but the size of the text file always fooled him. It grew gradually, the more he typed, whether or not the words were visible or not, he took for granted that the computer could memorize words beyond the monitor, which made enough sense in the real world, if he was in it. He took another drink. Tack tack tack tack...ti-tack. The sound of the keyboard with his, at best, chaotic typing.

The font slowly turned into scrawl, but ever so slowly he did not see it occur. It became very similar to his handwriting which was illegible to even him on occasion. The print began to slur its words together as if trying to create a neon sign with the letters, in case he ever wanted to make a full size model to place in front of his home in the desert.

Home? He didn't have a home in the desert. It was the desert. What an absurd thought.

He took another drink.

His fingers began to trace in the sand, mimicking his handwriting. He wrote now in large letters, as the sand would allow no smaller without collapsing upon itself. His finger moved along the sand. It was hot, but he never stopped. His fingers formed the letters he was thinking of that may or may not have formed into entire words that may or may not have began to create a story that someone may or may not be interested in reading. His eyes furrowed, thinking these exact thoughts as he continued moving along the sand. He shuffled like a crab underneath his story, stopping only to take a drink of his water. The glass was always right above his work.

He didn't stop. Oh no, he couldn't stop. Men came and went, women came and went, animals and plants and storms and snows and tornadoes and earthquakes and emotions and suns and moons and stars and tears and blood and old age and childhood and fingernails and colors and stones and cores and papers and pens and offices and depression and thoughts and wrinkles and pina coladas and buckets of water and roads and airplanes and presidents and troubles and robots and cars and pencils and pillows and calculators and languages and magic and pots and pans and drills and gold and space and hands and feet and faces and marks and crushes and let-downs and fathers and mothers and cups and peanut butter and socks and towers and lies and infidelity and keys and hearts and discs and sports and nature and time and...............

He took a drink of his water.

No, never stopped. He couldn't stop. What a life he had to live. It might not even be his choice, the inability to stop writing came over him so strongly like an unquenchable thirst, but that he didn't have to worry about. He looked back on his line that traveled across multiple worlds and shrugged. He looked up and saw hands grabbing for him. They were always there. Waiting. He stood. He took a drink of his water.

March 11th, 2010

The hands certainly took their time. He stood with a slightly confused look upon his face peering up at the wrinkle-layered skin that slowly grew larger and larger in his vision. Carelessness lead him here. The gods must be reading his story from across the world and across universes. Obviously his story had interested someone. He only took a drink from his water, and stared upwards.

Boy, they certainly took their time.

He could feel their grip upon him, He did not resist. He was grabbed underneath, his arms free. The hands were so dirty and dry. Liquid could keep a pretty good hold on these hands. He dipped his finger into his glass of water and began to trace letters on the hands. He left wet marks upon them that continued his story, and they did not resist. His eyes looked nowhere else. He could not see what was above him or below him.

The hand was at least gentle with him, carrying him. He had no notice of it moments after it had picked him up, for his passion for his story was too great and it consumed his being. He took a drink, but hastily tore the glass away from his face realizing it was all he had for makeshift ink around.

CK: Question 6

This is one of the better questions. I'll have a post with a little more substance sooner rather than later (yeah I still pretend like people read this), even if its something that I've already written. Maybe some fiction for once rather than an opinion piece. I don't know.

6. At long last, someone invents "the dream VCR." This machine allows you to tape an entire evening's worth of your own dreams, which you can then watch at your leisure. However, the inventor of the dream VCR will only allow you to use this device of you agree to a strange caveat: When you watch your dreams, you must do so with your family and your closest friends in the same room. They get to watch your dreams along with you. And if you don't agree to this, you can't use the dream VCR.

Would you still do this?

6. Hahahaha. Yeah. I definitely have some dreams that I wouldn't want anyone to see, but really the more the closest people to me know the better they can know me and the better the relationship can be. I won't delve into some of the dreams I have here, but honestly I probably wouldn't tell anyone about them without some serious prodding. Most of them are written down. Not just the bad ones though. Anyway, yes. Even if the caveat wasn't there, I would invite definitely my wife to see all my dreams with me, and my family and friends for most of them anyway. I would assume I have friends that have the same kinds of dreams and would understand completely, and would do the same for me if they had a dream VCR. As long as I don't have to work around their schedules to watch my dreams, then its all cool.

And really, if everyone did this, then no one's dreams would be odd. People would accept each other for the weird crazy sex-driven people that they are in each stage of their lives and I think there would be a lot more understanding between people and how people understand themselves.

Maybe I got a little too psychological there...