Over the years I've experimented a lot upon scenes, trying to figure out what works and what doesn't and most importantly why. I've done this by writing and getting feedback upon scenes where I've pushed the limits of deviation from the more structured path, to get a clearer distinction through trial and error. To be able to "see" for myself when and where a story fails to convey a deeper emotion or downright relate at all with a reader. How far can I stray from the "rules" and get away with it? Perhaps there is still room for exploration upon structure. Little details or even major aspects upon writing that could be placed around in a different manner that could deepen or even reveal a brand new form of writing, while finding new patterns through the chaos of conveying information. Off course, in order to be able to do that, I've spent countless hours upon studying methods, formulas - or call them what you will - about the art of writing and storytelling. Learning about the "rules", the "do's" and "don't's", crisscrossing them with novels that I love and figuring how much they apply in them or at which points they stray from them, bending them around to give a more distinctive voice, pacing the emotion while unraveling the plot. Yes, I've already started out doing the work years ago and it's still an ongoing one, although I'm not what you call such a structured writer. When I write, I tend to keep all of this information at the back of my head most of the times, in order to well... get the writing started. Write in a freer manner in order to be able to focus upon the essence of what I want to say. You know. Grasp the momentum of raw inspiration, without technical disturbances that might throw me off course. That's my way of writing, point being that even without being overly conscientious upon the technical stuff, they are always there nonetheless. The real use of studying them comes into play on the hard editing phase mostly. When you've completed a scene or a chapter, leave it to rest and edit it afterwards. Sometimes though, I stumble upon some scenes or whole chapters, might I admit, that although are seemingly "correct" are somewhat... off. They just don't feel completely right, like they are lacking in something whatsoever, but I can't put a finger on it and that's where another person's perspective might come as a revelation to me. It's not so often that I get so excited upon a piece of information that I find very useful upon writing nowadays and it might not feel the same for you, but at least for me it cleared up some blocks upon the editing phase. Check her other videos out. I consider her (Ellen Brock) to give some of the soundest advice on yt, while clarifying upon her perspective without droning on.
There are only a few people that are going to help you when you are in need without expecting something in return. The ones that are unrelated to you or that are not close friends of yours, even fewer. You can count them on the fingers of only a hand and these people are a true blessing. Noble and sincere. Polite, gentle souls. Theofilos Vandoros was one of these few people that crossed my path. We met one warm spring night at the small cafe/bar of a self-managed hangout through a friend and I told him I had written a short, thriller script for a school project. The first short I'd ever film. I asked him if he could play a role and he said yes. So simple, so straightforward. He gave me his number and we arranged a meeting a few days later at the same hangout. We read the script which was about two pages long and he told me he loved it and he'd love to be part of it. A renowned actor playing a short role in a rookie's no budget film. A school film... He looked sick, but he had such a warm smile. It radiated. He had a quality that put you at ease. Very rare. He told me he had a disease and that he had to go to the hospital every now and then to get his treatment, but he assured me that we'd get through with it. That he'd get through with it. At the set he was indescribably charming. The man was a pro. Very kind and friendly with the rest of us rookies and amatures and very fast to get immersed in his role, although the circumstances we had to push through were at best challenging. These challenges though are the ones that made this whole process memorable and fun. It was surreal, you know? Having to film at nighttime at a square full of people, going to the underground toilet of a tavern to get him dressed, a friend of mine helping him to put on an eye contact that was needed 'cause none of us knew how to, filming inside a tiny space of a wc of a friend's bar with a huge mirror on the background, which meant we had to choreograph everything to perfection to make his murder scene work. He never once complained about anything. He helped me out because he wanted to help me out. Because he was an actor and he loved the art. Because he was humble. Because he wanted to help and inspire a rookie director in need. To show me my vision is possible. He gave a hundred per cent even though he was very sick. After the film was done I never saw him again. I invited him to the premiere but he didn't come. He vanished. I thought I'd meet up with him again. Show him the film on a later time. We hanged out in the same neighborhood so it's only natural we'd cross paths again at some point. I knew where he hanged. Time passed. I put it aside. I forgot about it. Last night a friend messaged and told me he died. 60 years old, stomach cancer. It saddened me greatly. We never had a chance to reminisce upon it. During the filming everything was so hectic that I thought that I'd be able to give something back, anything, after things settled, but there was always something else and always tomorrow. At least that's what I thought. He will always be remembered by me. Apart from a great actor he was an outstanding individual. An active supporter of humanity, a helping hand, a voice of reason. He left his mark and it is beautiful. Rest in peace friend. I thank you from the depths of my heart. You were one in a million.
I've been trying For hours To put out this fire, To contain it in brackets, To transform into speech. Words have been falling like dead flies, Deemed flaccid by the occasion. Impossible to concentrate. When you're burning, All you can do is scream. Bystanders throw anodyne stares, As pointy fingers tap on glass. Their pupils bland, static, empty, The color of Antarctica. Some edit, some erase, cozy in their living rooms. Then, "What's for dinner?" their mouth's ask. "Something smells good!" their noses remark. If only they conceived how fast this fire spreads. On second thought, this convict thinks, should I even care to explain?
An "in-your-face" micrography of the world. https://freedomnews.org.uk/greek-horror how-an-epstein-level-paedophile-scandal-could-connect-to-the-first-time-in-greek-history-that-a-political-prisoner-dies-of-hunger-strike- /?fbclid=IwAR2LFx7UcPIqVgqb2NMok0JQf6xXZXNCEfXx8nGo-OjjT6xtM-JGNQj6XWA Couldn't have said it better. A little note: Mind you, this is not the first friend of Mitsotakis caught in a paedophile scandal. https://www.nineoclock.ro/2011/08/24/eu-official-involved-in-chisinau-child-sex-scandal/ Makjang you say?
Been a while since I had a reason, any reason to write anything down over here and this is a rare occasion, since the reason at hand is bliss. I'm so happy, ecstatic actually and of course I just have to share it with everyone, especially here, since it has to do with writing, so... relatability! I believe that you'll understand. I've got a number of WIP going on, none of them completed and most of them are in english and only one of them is a screenplay, which I write in greek, since it's meant to become a feature film at some point, might I add, my first one. This project had began somewhere last spring and at some point it had become a priority in relevance with everything else I was writing, because what got me started with it was a screenplay contest that was due September 31 the previous year and you know... wherever opportunity strikes my creative greed takes over. The prize was incredible. The first prize was full monetary coverage for the production of filming, etc, the second partial cover and the third one as well. Very good prospects. These kind of contests are like unicorns in greece. So rare, they are considered urban legends. I learned about it from a friend who isn't even related to this domain in any way and I couldn't believe it. I have no clue how she stumbled upon it, but I'm forever grateful for it. It was as legit as legit goes. A screenwriter contest supported by the national channel. Wow! Of course there were requirements and limitations I'd have to meet. Some written down and explained in detail and some left for your individual logic to work out on your own. What I mean is that you have to take into account some simple principles when it comes to the greek industry. It's tiny. A low budget film in America is a high budget film in Greece. So, although the theme or genre was free, for example if you wrote the most amazing, award winning in a parallel universe, sci-fi scenario, you'd lose the contest for the simple reason that they would not be able to cover such a cost of production. The value would greatly surpass the coverage, unless they slaughtered the takes so... I believe it's a simple logical deduction. Fantasy? Lol. Fantasy is completely nonexistent in Greece. I'd love to be the first one to introduce it, I find it very challenging, but I'm not sure if the greek audience would be ready for it. As I said: small industry, tiny budget, unfamiliar audience. Remaining realistic in these situations is a given. Not low, but realistic expectations are part and parcel of if you want to stand a chance. Anyhow! So, this blessing of an opportunity became a curse and by mid-summer a nightmare. At first, I had not much time to invest in it, since I also had school projects, jobs, etc to work on. I came up with a concept, with characters, with some scattered scenes floating here and there, I also exacted a live research because a motivation of one of my protagonists (there are two) was kinda unfamiliar to me and I didn't want to screw it up, furthermore, I believe you get a more solid idea of who your character is by understanding in depth their motivations. The more you learn about them (the motivations), the more realistic they become (the characters), the easier it is to get inside their skin (guess). You stop judging them and you start understanding them. You flesh them out. As I was saying, at first I didn't have much time and I was painfully aware of the passing of it. There was not much left and because this thought was only sabotaging me in everything I did, I decided to put it aside until I first finished my school project and then I'd put everything else aside and just work on this and so I did. Mid-summer came and... I was stuck. For good. I had almost everything outlined, as I wanted them to be, start, middle, finish, but there were gaps. Huge gaps. Not plot holes per say, because I hadn't thought the whole sequence on the go, I rarely do that, but I couldn't connect some scenes, meaning I couldn't justify some actions. The in between, you know? Like, why does that person ends up helping this person? Of course I can find some sort of justification, I'm the creator after all, but the ones I came up with where not good enough. I could fill in the missing pieces and connect the dots but it felt... bad. I was uninspired and anxious about time flying by and in a hurry, which I realise now how much stress I was in and that's the point where all evils in creation find fertile ground to sprout without you even noticing. I was trying to become a pro. I was trying to become another. Do it as they do it. Don't wait for inspiration to magically appear, although I have my methods of getting into that zone, but since I couldn't I'd push myself to work on this by force, like the technocrats do and it's bound to work out at some point... isn't it? Well, it didn't. I lost the due date. I wasn't crushed, but kinda bummered. Actually, might I admit that when it was over I was kinda liberated. I prefer not taking part in an important contest if I know that what I'm about to send is heavily lacking. I haven't quitted upon this script, I like it, always had from it's first conception and I do believe that it would make a great feature film once it's completed and perhaps that's the reason I didn't feel like handing it in a cripple. It'd be a sin. A good story slaughtered, meant to fail. I wouldn't have that. I kept working on it though, sparsely, every now and then, in hopes inspiration would knock on my door again. Mostly editing and re-editing, since I couldn't come up with anything major to add in. I've been really squeezing my brain though. Every single curve and corner of it. Anyhow, fast forward to yesterday. I did an all nighter again. I almost spent 24 hours, staring at my outline, at the screen, asking why this, why that and why the fuck I can't justify it? I'm usually very good at this. Why am I so god damned stuck on it ffs? Why can't I "see" it in my mind? Back to the character arcs, back to the basic plot points, and round and round we go. At some point, I got pretty tired of it and thought about focusing, but really focusing on something else. Be here, be now. My go-to place in times of high levels of intellectual or even emotional vexation is getting immersed in something completely logical. Something that makes sense, a completed construct with a specific set of rules and guidelines, detached by the emotions that personal creativity ensues. Oh, the things I've studied and learned just because of this decompression mechanism. Nowadays, my prefered meditation if you will is chess and I've become quite a formidable opponent at it. So, I thought I'd play a game, ended up playing more than thirty, won most although a guy kicked my ass along with my chess dignity to smithereens (he was very polite though. In my defence I was sleep deprived af. He's in my bead now) and then I returned to my screenplay, super-caffeinated, stuck as usual and after a while I admitted defeat and quit for the day. I had to get some sleep before I lost it completely and that's where magic happened. As I layed in my fluffy coverings, thinking about my losing chess battles and figuring out strategies that could work against this one guy, as I felt the pressure ebbing from my body and my mind, another mysterious signal of unknown source started intercepting my thoughts, hijacking my chessboard visuals and turning them into a cinematic film and guess whose film that was. Yep, it was my film completed in detail, scene by scene, all links connected, all gaps filled, from start to finish and it was beautiful. Everything I was so stubbornly stuck upon played out right in front, or should say inside of me in such great detail, it felt like cheating. How? Who played this film? Who is it, because it can't, just can't be me. I've been stuck forever with it and saw the missing pieces and some tweaking I should do with the story structure for it to flow nicely and none of this information was anything like what I've been coming up for so goddamn long. How come it's ready? It was too good to be mine and it was unrestrained, you know? It was done. All of it! It was the long forgotten aha-moment I was praying for, times ten. Right there for the taking. I mean, I've had these kinds of moments previously, but this is different. For once, at that moment I wasn't even thinking about my script. I was still awake and thinking about chess. I was pretty much immersed in chess. Furthermore, the film played undisturbed on its' own, started from the top and ended at the bottom and was in great detail. It was not just some flare of creativity, which I'm used to. It was very long lasting. Perhaps my creative os had not been compromised by viruses as I believed it to be. It was going through an unseemingly long upgrade, that was working unnoticeably in the background. In wuxia language I could proudly say that I've at last broken through my bottleneck and it'd make sense. Once the film was done, I went back and rewinded some scenes, watched them again and again and again. Every single one of them made perfect sense. I scanned for plot holes, none to be found. It was like this film was taken from real life. Like it had happened. Like my protagonists and everyone else in it was the real deal. I had everyone's backstory without even trying to make things up. It was weird, that's all I'm saying in much more needed words, but that's the reason I'm writing all of this. It's too good to be true. I jerked up, laughing in the darkness like a mad scientist. I had a very important decision to make: Should I try to fall asleep again or should I get up and start writing everything down? I decided to lie down and get some rest and pick it up when I got up first thing in the day, but spent the whole night replaying the film in my mind, just in case... I was afraid I'd lose it until I got up, something that has happened many-a-times...
"You will." "I won't." "Oh, but you will. You just don't know it yet." "Man, chill yo flesh. I told you that I won't and I mean it. Agree we disagree?" "I agree, but I know you will. You're just not there yet. You're in denial." "Funny, 'cause I believe you're the one in denial. Man, are you actually telling me that you know me better than I do myself? Are you for real?" "And I believe you're being arrogant and selfish. Look, I'm willing to bet on it. When the time comes you will. No doubt about it." "How much?" "50 euros." "Well, why so little? How about we make this a 400?" "Come on Mal! I know you won't be able to pay up a sum like that..." "... but you will. Look, I promise to pay up if I lose." "Okay then." Handshake. And time flew by and when it finally came to it Malisky didn't. Quite effortlessly, really. You see, she never had a change of heart about it. "I can't believe you didn't." "I know. What a shocker. You owe me 400 euros and I expect you to pay up, because this is me being arrogant for real this time." ................................................................................................................................................ Moral lessons of this story: 1) Don't make bets when the other person is merely investing. 2) Believe your friend in what he's/she's/they're saying in case they truly fucking mean it and don't criticise them rudely when they never intended to offend you, until you did. Just accept it. You disagree in some things. If you can't and it bothers you, wave bye-bye. It's all for the better.
A friend came back the other day and brought with him a memory that had unwittingly gotten buried deep inside my mind. It was winter of 01', a few days before New Years Eve of 02', or perhaps a few days after it. I can't remember the exact time, but it was somewhere around that time, not that it really matters. That year it had snowed a lot, and I mean a lot, which is rather rare. Extremely rare, actually. The schools were closed for a couple of weeks or more past the scheduled vacations due to the extreme weather conditions and boy, were we glad about it. Ecstatic! Never once got bored with the snow. Not a day would pass without us strolling outside, making our way through snow sunken paths, playing in the snow or simply admiring the scenery. What the beauty of it was that by night time it would start to snow so heavily again, covering the nasty tracks that we made earlier, resetting the scenery back to it's fluffy, white purity. It was magic. After listening to my friend I could remember what he narrated to me, but faintly. Some faded out, white washed images started forming inside my head and I could hear our laughter, I could feel the cold - inside my boots my socks were wet, the pricking sensation of my bare hands touching the snow, my nose... what nose? - I could feel... happy. Chris was another kid on the block. We've met through a friend's friend or something and hanged out sometimes here and there. At that time our acquaintance was fairly recent. He told me we were walking a street downhill, towards a decadent billiards bar I used as sanctuary whenever I skipped class (almost daily, yeah, I rock at pool) to join with my school bestie. As we reached the middle of this curvey, narrow, steep path, we abruptly paused as our eyes settled further down, at the side of the wide, arcade staircase that led underground, to the billiards. There was a great lump of accumulated snow that looked oh, so tempting. Without exchanging a word, but a brief, tacit glance at one another, we run screaming down the road and jumped as high as we could, one next to the other, diving like planks, head-first inside the tall, fluffy lump and thank god we were right. The landing was like a dream, as we gently sank inside the freezing softness. We made snow angels just to ruin them right the next instant as we chased one another under the snow like moles. This awoken memory inadvertently brought back with it sensations of an era that was so colorfully playful but brief, like an unsustained memory. Like it was in another lifetime of another, not me. Like I hacked these memories, stole them, you know? That's how greatly distant they are, but they're mine. Following, a plethora of visuals, scents, audios flooded my mind. Cherry flavoured lollipop, phosphorescent nails, black light, joystick, coin-operated games, raspberry lip-balm, flashing lights, pinball jerks, hole-ridden pockets, bludged smokes of unknown brands, gummy worm kissing, cigarette burnt green felts, paper stars, milk bottle improvised bongs, bubble baths, clothes swapping politics, hair-dye catastrophe, skinny dipping, earring self-mutilations, vinyls, guitar-string-rings, sketching flowers at the side of the page of the maths book, sketching broken hearts at the side of the history exams sheet, paraffin, classroom naps, scouters, climbing tall, barred fences like a ninja, hitching rides on brakeless bicycles, who's got a mobile phone for I'm in a grave situation and I need to text someone p r o n t o ! Fun times. Like tripping into an arcade.
Six t h o u s a n d armed cops at the center of Athens... The arrest of a student at Sepolia after the assemblage and right before he went to enter his home. With him was his mother who got battered and is at Evangelismos Hospital. Outside the police department of Kolonos people gathered, among them the father and the sister of the student. There's been tension, and after getting battered, his sister has been arrested as well (they dragged her inside by the hair and resumed hitting her while she was being kept in custody). The father that has had a heart attack, has been transferred to Evangelismos hospital and is being treated while guarded by police. (He suffered the heart attack after the police shackled him and they wouldn't let him get transferred by the ambulance medics for a good while, because he didn't have his id on him at the time. Finally he's been transferred in shackles and the hospital doctors had to plead with the police in order to have them removed). Information suggest that he will be arrested for causing an incident outside the police department prior to his heart attack. After judicial intervention they stopped guarding him. Attorney A. Legaki went at Kolonos P.D. to see the sister of the student, but was not given permission to do so and after hours they told her that she's in custody at Kypseli P.D. The person that shot the second vid I posted has been arrested as well. Most tv channels, if not all apart from the state tv channel, decided these where no news worth of showing... so far.
I mostly learned how to speak english on the go, meaning by having conversations in it, or movies, music, books, etc, so usually I'd learn the meaning of a word by context. (Also had classes for years, but I wouldn't have come this far if I had no practical reasons to implement it as a language). I used to look up for words or asked about their meaning, only whenever they made no sense at all through context (or they could mean a multitude of things, especially when it came to adjectives), but now, since I got time on my side, I started reading a book and for a change I'm looking up every single word I stumble upon, for which I don't know the meaning without relying on context. It might be a word which I've already come across many times in the past and have understood by context, but now I want a clear cut definition. I want all of its definitions too. I came to realise that something very interesting started happening during this process: I started using these newly acquired words in my writing effortlessly. "Well, duh!", you'll say. "Of course you do, now that you know their meaning." That's not the point though, my friends. The point is that my whole way of thinking of how to express something verbally - how to communicate my thoughts, my visions if you will - has already been re-calibrated, for not only has it affected my speech in english, but also in greek, which is very weird if you take into account that I already know my vocabulary in greek pretty damn well. It's an extremely rare occurrence that I come across an english word I search in an english-greek lexicon for which I don't know the greek meaning of its written equivalent already. Furthermore, what's more weird is that I haven't even been looking up these words from an english-greek lexicon this time. I've been getting their definitions in english. When I write in english, I don't think in greek and translate my thoughts into english. I think in english. My thinking grammar is already set to english, a result of taking up this language from a very young age, because I actually had to use it. There might be some instances where my mind gets stuck and can't produce the word I'm thinking of in english, and that's where a lexicon comes in handy, because I only have to think about the word in greek and translate it, but what you know? Hah! This happens vice-versa when I'm writing in greek as well. My mind gets stuck upon a specific greek word -> I take a shortcut by thinking this word in english -> I look it up in the lexicon and replace. My mind works like a thunder if I let it be. Fast but lazy. Always looking for the shortest circuit. Looking up, but also writing down the definitions of words in english resulted in creating new circuits I believe, and although this work is tedious and very fresh (I've only been doing this for 3 days now) it's already been proven fruitful. Some examples: a) Juncture: I learned it out of context at some point in my life for whatever reason, but I only knew it means "a place where things join". Did you know it can also be used to express "a particular point in events or time"? I didn't. I wouldn't have thought of using it this way by myself. I love this definition. I came across many words, whose definitions can be used for expressing whole different concepts, other than their more practical meaning. This gave me new ideas on how to color my prose. b) Abashed: The meaning of this word was crystal clear by the context in the scene I was reading. But then again... was it? It was "clear" just not "crystal". My unlaboured guess was that it meant "embarrassed" and although this might be a pretty close synonym (I thought the writer chose to use this word in means of flow or for unconventionality), it doesn't mean exactly that, which is very important for it means something way more specific of an emotion. It means "feel slightly embarrassed and uneasy, more specifically if someone gets caught lying or making a mistake", which was spot on in what was going on in the book's scene and the character's reaction in it. How I would have put it before this information came through? I'd either have written "slightly embarrassed" or if I wanted to get into details and highlight "why" my character felt this way, I'd have to also include the subjective reason he felt that way by explaining further, for example "Having been caught lying John looked slightly embarrassed..." although this "reason" might be already included in the previous happenings, just not spelled out, meaning that by reading the dialogue prior to what followed, by context, the reader already knows that John was lying and that his companion had caught him up doing so. In other words, "abashed" is a much more efficient word to use in this case. More elegant and saves you from iterating the obvious. c) Peal of laughter: I never would have used this word this way. Or "peal of thunder". I didn't know you could do that actually. I always described such things by merely using "loud". "Loud this, loud that, loud: boring" and overused, since it can be used for multiple different reasons. Furthermore, a "peal" also indicates a reverberating and repeating sound. What a refreshingly unique word! d) Hoodwink: to deceive/ to trick. What a funky word! Got to use it at some point... Another interesting observation is that whenever I came about a word in a book, which is not usually used in verbal form, although I'd understand what it means, since I'd come across it various times through reading and have learned it by context, I came to realize that I would never use it myself. It's like my brain had inadvertently classified said word in a very specific folder when it came to its usefulness. It was classified strictly as an "understanding others" word only. My lazy brain, in order to keep things simple and fit for the occasion (when you immerse yourself reading a story you are only receiving information, it's a one-way-ticket) didn't even bother perhaps copying a word and placing it in the "personal dictionary" folder. The word would never get picked by me to use in a sentence, neither in written word nor verbally, because it simply didn't exist in the "personal folder" in the first place. I have a theory and this is my personal observation and belief about ideas and concepts, which refers closely to the very roots of creation and conceptualization, as well as the very clever but ambiguous and very debated upon opening of "The Gospel of John" (John 1:1), which is that each of our "thoughts", every single "particle" that creates it, might come from the same source in their utmost primitive form and this source can be best described as "formless". Kind of a paradox, but hear me out. John's 1:1 verse reads: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." In ancient greek, this reads as: "Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ Λόγος, και ὁ Λόγος ἦν πρός τον θεον, και θεος ἦν ὁ Λόγος." The word "λόγος" (in the greek scripture "λόγος" was not written with a capital "l" -> "Λ", I replaced it as such for clarification purposes), can be translated in english as "word". It's a word that survived through history and made it past the greek language reformations and it's used as the common meaning of this word up 'til today. More specifically, in greek it means "speech" or "the way one speaks", (At this point I should mention that "λόγος" is by no means the equivalent of "word" as in "words that create a sentence". The greek equivalent of such a meaning is "λέξη" -> "lexi", thus -> "lexicon"! ), but it also has another, also pretty common, alternative meaning. It also means "reason" as in "the reason something happens", "the reason for which someone reacts the way he does" for example. Furthermore, "the reason" as the equivalent of the word "the logic", in greek "λογική" comes from the root of "λόγος", thus the logic of the word "logic" and so on and so forth, etc, etc. Confusing, right? Anyhow! By replacing one meaning of "Word" with the other, this text in greek can be also taken as: "In the beginning was the Reason, and the Reason was with God, and the Reason was God." This gives a whole new different perspective upon what John might have meant, doesn't it? (Linguistics, never seize to amaze me). Now, I know that there's a long debate upon what John meant, but I won't be jumping into the "religious" or academic points of debate behind it, for it would completely sidetrack my purpose of this topic, furthermore, I'm not into religion so I need to read a hell more in order to form a legitimate impression about such a matter and frankly, it doesn't interests me as much to do so. Not now at least. Just like God, "reason" has no form. We dress it in pictures, sounds, words, whatever we pick as a most fitting and close representation we can come up with as we process it through our brains, who connects the dots seamlessly through a vast collection of "what we came to know" by endlessly absorbing information through our senses in a 3D or perhaps 4D world, if you place time into the picture as well, while quantum physics theorists promote "unseen" even "unperceived" new dimensions our latest ancestors wouldn't even have been able to conceive and express them through numbers and complicated axioms, in order to come closer and explain the everexisting paradox of existence itself, for what we are innately trying to produce and have been trying to produce all along, through philosophising and communicating our philosophies with one another throughout the millennia, is none other than the understanding of our very own selves. Cracking the code of our existence, of any existence, of God's existence, of existence of existence. The pictures? The words? The music? Our actions? It's all communication, not the source of it. We can't even get close to the source, all the more touch it, although as...
Going to the kiosk was a motherfucker. [...] Good! Now that I've deleted all of the previous, more specific things I've spent a considerable amount of time writing down in a more personal and serious tone, I feel ready to pee all over it and express it as a parabolic questionnaire instead. This is a rant my friend and it's gonna get ugly, so buckle up or simply skip the whole damn thing, 'cause you've been notified and this is unrestricted creativity flowing through me right now and it's going to be obscene in a very divine sense. So, how has the curfew been for you? Me? I'll be honest. Not so good. Say, you're down on your luck, stumbling your way across the desert and suddenly God shows up and tells you that if you manage to impress Him He'll immediately teleport you to wherever you want to go. All you got on you is a deck of cards. All you know is card tricks. So you get to work and try your best to impress Him with your performance, but pretty soon, God let's out a dramatically overextended yawn to highlight His boredom, 'cause silly, of course he does. He's "All Knowing", remember? You can't fool Him. He's rooting for you though, so he gives you a very specific hint, which is to build him a house of cards, using 40 of them... on the sand. (Have you got any idea how ridiculously difficult that is)? Anyhow, you start constructing this house of cards only to watch it fall apart again and again. Many a times, you've reached the point of having to balance the last two cards at the top, but a puff of air took it down everytime, so you resort to asking God for a favor. You ask Him kindly if He could pause the wind for a while, just so you can finish what He asked of you and he says, "no". He can't pause the wind just for you. What about the rest of the creatures that rely on that breeze, you selfish klutz? Since he is "All Loving" too though, he winks at you and hands you a glue. You praise Him, singing hallelujah and start gluing the pieces together in joy and reverence. You are now holding your breath as you're about to finally place the last two cards, ever so cautiously, at the top level, when out of the blue a strong wind emerges, which sends your almost finished construct flying in the air, tumbling on the sand, taking up again and you do exactly as any reasonable person would do: you chase the damn thing in shear terror, until unsuspectingly... you fall into quicksand. You are stuck in a pit of quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper with each attempt to move as you're watching your ticket-out-of-there get blown away, disappearing in the golden horizon. All out of choices and also without any sort of resources now, all that's left for you to do is pray. Pray for God to save you and what you know? He hears your desperate cry and appears. You ask Him if he could lend you a hand and He says "no", for you haven't achieved to impress Him just yet and then he comes up with another offer, so he unbuttons His holy pants and throws down His "Almighty Dick" to you, all the way up from heaven and tells you "Sucketh well and salvation shall be giveth to you". What do you do? a) You sucketh. b) "No thanks, I'll pass... away, I guess..." c) You decisively hold His holy thing in your hands and take an Almighty bite out of it, 'cause hell was worth it after all. I'm tired. I'm going to sleep.
The Eye creeping down from up high is haunted. Bare from lid it hangs from a rootless chord, a motionless pendulum, a dead-weight, a relic of the past; one that Time punished in the cruelest form of retribution, an inescapable sentence that only Time can impose. Aware but feckless all the same, without a choice it stares. I sometimes lie beneath it to keep it company unbeknownst if it perceives, though I can tell it sees. The big, round pupil like a black hole trapped at the bottoms of a spherical, liquid dome expands in darkness, contracts in light. The sensors are intact. The Eye is not blind, but does it hold any memory? I look at the Eye, I look at my distorted idolon. Just a habitual Nothing reflecting on a dying Everything. How rich! All ways are down when you're hanging from a chord. All ways are up when you're lying on your back. I only want to know Eye: Did you choose to be left out of choices? Was it worth it? We take cover in and from the Nothing that lasts Forever. Not even Time itself, for it's a beast that inadvertently is bound to crumble underneath its own weight. You must have been witnessing this bittersweet demise as you rode along with the millenia. So, If I'm right, For your own sake I can only hope That I'm right. Rest in peace. Yours Truly, Speck of Dust.
"... but I don't want you to take me with you. I want you to come with me. No. Listen. I'm not coming." Same, same, same, same, same, same, same, same... same ol' story. I don't want comfort. I want magic and I'm willing to pay in blood for it. I crave all of the discomfort that comes with it. I really don't fucking care! I just want to see what I want to see and go where I want to go. My aim is set very specifically there and nothing can compare. Nothing! I mean it! It's highly premeditated impulsiveness and it serves a reason. It has meaning. Just for once. Let me be what I want to do. Done negotiating. Fine! I'm gonna go at it alone then. You go your own way if you must. I prefer it this way, otherwise it's never gonna happen. I don't know if it should or if it shouldn't, whether I'm right or wrong, and I know that out of context this seems random, but it ain't and I'm so very annoyed. Do you read me? Annoyed! God, I hate this... So, if you see me posing like Musashi just know that that's that.
Bite your lips, be still, breathe in - breathe out, count to ten, to twenty, to the point where you lose count, but keep counting. Just keep doing so until the super nova gets reversed. Own it. Contain it, because you can. You can at least do that. Someone has to. It just happens to be you. You can and you will, because you don't want to lose... it... So, be still. Be quiet. Listen. I had a dream a few years back. I dreamed it was nighttime and I was outside my apartment. I looked up and there it was, a few feet right above my head: Salvation. It just appeared there out of the blue and it was so beautiful it made me cry. It looked like a star, like a silvery white liquid, like a Van Gogh painting, colored with a strong but fuzzy light and glitter swirling in sparkly curls around it, blending the silver with the blue, with the purple. It was majestic. A 2D effect transforming in the real 3D world. A paradox. That was it. My only chance. My way out. I run with all my might, ascending the dark, spiral staircase two or three stairs at the time, stumbling, with both feet and hands, screaming at it to wait; "Wait for me! Don't disappear! Wait!" I got to the rooftop and kept running towards it. I stood right at the edge of the platform, at the tips of my toes, extending my hand towards it, but I couldn't reach it. It was so close, but I couldn't touch it. Just half a step above and in front of me. So damn close. Was it taunting me? Was I unworthy? I knew that I was dreaming from the start, but it didn't matter at all. Once I saw this star, dreams - reality, all seemed the same, like two sides of a coin. This star was the realest thing I've ever seen in my life. It was the only thing I suddenly knew existed. It was the meaning. It was my resting place. It was everything. It was home. I kept trying to touch it, but it was clear that no matter how far I tried to stretch, I would never be able to reach it. I was crying like I've never cried before. I was hysterical. I was pleading, trying to make a deal. "Please, please please, take me with you! Don't leave me here! I'll do anything, a n y t h i n g ! I'll admit everything, I'll give up everything, I promise I'll be good! Just tell me what you want and I'll do it, but please, let me reach you. Come a little bit closer, just a little!" The star hanged up there for a while more and then it started moving away from me, ascending slowly into the night sky. My panic doubled. I was screaming like a dying animal. "Don't leave! Wait! Not so soon! Wait, wait, wait! Take me with you, please!" Finally, it spoke to me, but not in words. I can't describe the form in which it spoke. It felt like soothing vibrations coming from within me. Like I had no ears or eyes or body in this brief instance. Like I had no form at all. Like I was the night sky itself experiencing a vibration that meant: "You're not ready yet. Not now. Stay here, for you're not ready." I couldn't, I really couldn't... As a last resort I jumped. I didn't reach it. I dived into the darkness. I woke up in the darkness. My eyes where wet, so was my pillow. My sorrow instantly dissipated, like I was another person. Like it hadn't been me in the dream, but my tears begged to differ. The star was right. I was not ready yet. I still am not. That was many years ago. I think around 10 years or so. I had many things going for me at that time. I didn't feel depressed or hopeless. Perhaps, it was a belated manifestation of past trauma. Most probably. I've never cried so wholeheartedly ever in my life as I did in that dream and I've never once pleaded so hard for anything. Served me right. I've got a friend who's in a very tough place. He's been searching for that star. I don't care about anything anyone says. They're all wrong. No one is invested. They don't, they won't, they can't understand. Perhaps, I don't either, but I'll be damned, I'll never quit. NEVER! I won't let him become a star. Not yet. Not on my watch. Things will happen as I want them to happen - end of story!
I wake up with a racing heart feeling as though I'm lacking oxygen. Was it the heat? Was it a dream? What did I dream? Oh yes. It was that dream again. It's daytime and I'm at some crowded square at the center just standing there, thinking what am I doing here? Soon I realize that there's gum in my mouth. Its' taste is awful. I try to spit it out but I can't. It has melted inside my mouth and has become a gooey mess that's glued between my teeth, under my tongue, everywhere. I find a more private standing point and try to extract this disgusting mess with my fingers. It looks like melted wax. My fingers are all sticky now and then I wake up. Again. I only slept for five hours but I know there is no reason to stay in bed any longer. No way I can sleep again. I am wide awake. I get up, brew some coffee and check my bank account. No money in yet. Perfect. I check my tax account to see how many installments are left to pay upon a specific settlement - one of the many - and almost get a heart attack. It shows that I haven't made any payments, to any of my settlements since February... What? Oh, they've also fined me a hell lot of money 'cause of this. I've paid them! I always pay them, religiously! I've got the receipts motherfuckers! What the fucking fuck? I compose myself and call my saviour; my accountant. I explain the situation while laughing like a mad man. I don't know why. Laughter just pours out of me. He tells me not to worry. He's been getting calls from all of his customers since March, all claiming to be having the exact same issue. The payments have been made. The tax office's website has been having some technical issues they were aware of and when they decide to fix them everything is going to update to normality again, correcting the values. I feel my body temperature dropping to a more comfortable level. Long exhalation. Short relief. Why isn't the money in yet though... Why, why, why? Tomorrow's the first day back at class again. Instead of happy I'm feeling stressed. Uber-stressed. I should be focusing on my finals. I shouldn't. I've had it all planned out, didn't I? Didn't I... I didn't. Shit. I've got to figure out a way to pay them... Fuck it! You know what? I won't pay them. I can't, not now at least and for a while. How long? I don't know and that's the awful, honest truth. I've had it! I'm just going to lay down the facts and we'll take it from there. Thing is: I got to know and I got to know now. I call at school and decisively ask to speak with our manager. They tell me that he's at a meeting and that he'll call me later in the day. I give them my contact details and wait... and wait... and wait... and wait... Lunch time. I pour a serving of lentil soup and begin eating it indifferently. I'm thinking about my contest script. Back to my final school project. Back to the money. Back to my script. Back to my newly found worldbuilding mechanics. Back to... Is this my phone's that ringing? I bolt out of the kitchen and into my room. "Hello?" It's a lady from school and she's from the finance department. Well, that's weird. How did they know I had called them to speak about the finances? I was waiting for the manager to call me. I ask her if she called me due to the phone call I had previously made. She tells me that she knows not of a previously made phone call. Oh, figures. They got to me before I got to them. Anyhow, I see this as a fine opportunity. I tell her my problem and she agrees that this indeed is a problem. I ask her what can be done, but she rushes to send me off without giving me an answer. She seems to be in disbelief and asks me again when I will be able to pay at least for March. I tell her the same. I don't know. I'm also waiting on money I'm owed. Things are unclear. She tells me to come earlier tomorrow at school and head towards the finances department to figure out a solution with them. I ask her if I could speak today! on the phone! right now! with a representative from the finances department, but she seems to be very persistent that it's best I went there tomorrow and talked it out in close range. She seems very eager to brush me off. We feign a polite "good buy" and disconnect. She brushes me off. Yeah, thanks for nothing. Back to the kitchen. I eat a spoonful of lentil soup and my phone rings again. "Hello?" It's the school manager and he's happy as a mf lark. I tell him that I've already spoken with lady "That" about my concerns and I go on ahead, just for laughs, to ask him if he knew that. He gulps. Of course he didn't, but I already knew that. Anyhow, he asks me what's the trouble and by the time he hears the word "payment" he rushes to connect me with the finances department to speak with a counselor. "Oh goodie", I think. I go back to the kitchen, continue eating my lentil soup. The line rings and rings and rings. A lady picks up. "Hello?" What'd you know! It's lady "That" again. Lol. I change my scenario. I tell her if she could connect me to speak with a counselor now, because I was thinking about - magic word: - quitting. She immediately connects me to a counselor. I know that voice. Damn it! It's "This" counselor. Yes, the one I detest. The fat lady with below average IQ, with the awful taste in fake finger nails, with the voice of a constipated cow and a previous sentence in phone call sales for fools. Yes, we've had a meeting from up close the previous year already. She tried being ironic. I tried to be polite. She continued being ironic. I politely confronted her upon her irony and told her to stick it where the sun don't shine and stop wasting my time. I know her game and it tires me. She listened to reason. What a sweetheart. Anyways, I pressured her to get a settlement on my grounds... indirectly. I just ain't got the dough sweetness. Now what? Should I stay or should I go? I want to know my fucking options. There are options, right? She, after from being nosy in my business, giving me advice upon finding a new job, to being a complete bitch, asking me for the hundredth time when I'm gonna be able to pay for March, told me that at least by July, when the finals are due, I should pay March's installment. In case I don't have it by then, then I should speak with her again and see what she can do. I said "Deal!" and put down the phone. Okay. I got what I needed now. More time not to think upon the finances of the situation. I got 2 months to focus on my projects, but still, I feel no relief. Problem is I don't trust her. I don't trust the tax office. I don't trust any fucking constitution that has been hunting me down in order to pay pay pay them. God, I need a beer! I just have to have one. I need a patch. Dressed like a homeless person who spares no fucks upon her appearance I head towards my friendly neighborhood kiosk, with a limp since my ankle hasn't completely healed yet, under the scorching sun in search of a cool beer. I find it. I grab it. I purchase it. I'm limping my way back home with the cold bottle of beer pressed on the side of my neck. Yes, beer. Cool me down whichever way you can. I'm alone, walking in the middle of the street that crosses with mine. Just a few more limps to go. A mishmash of thoughts running through my mind. A sudden dread of loneliness twines around my solar plexus and it squeezes me. I've got friends. They give me more love than I could ever give. They want to see me on a daily basis. They confide in me. They trust me. They give me so many things wholeheartedly. Then why? Why do I feel so... disconnected? Why do I feel as if I'm speaking in their language, but they don't know mine? Do you ever get the feeling, and it might be fleeting but as sure as the sun, that no one in the world understands you no matter in how many ways you try to be understood? It's not a long lasting feeling, but when you happen to get it, it pricks the hair under your skin. It makes you mad, it makes you sad, it makes you lonely. It makes no sense at all, but it's there. You suddenly see the cracks in the mirror. Parts of your face and body all distorted. I see a figure heading over me, like it appeared out of nowhere. Has he been walking towards me this whole time? I didn't notice him. He's a man. Forty something. His hair are short, curly and ashen. He's plainly dressed. A T-shirt and bermuda shorts. He seems to be taking a stroll but I sense that he's going to ask me for something. I'm not in the mood. I pay him no attention and we walk right past each other and I think I managed to dodge him until I hear an "Excuse me". I limp another three steps towards my opposite destination until I decide not to be a complete asshole and turn to interact with the man. Perhaps he's lost. I wish at least, but by the time I take a closer inspection to his eyes, I'm certain that this ain't gonna be as simple as I desire it to be. There's not a worthy translation in english of what I answered. It would literally transcribe as "welcome" or as a contextualization of "I beg your pardon" but this is way too old fashioned. Let's say that in a common, polite way I replied with a "I'm listening". He asked me if there was an open coffee shop at the square (from where I've been coming from), because he wanted to order a coffee to go. I told him that I haven't noticed, but it was fairly close by for him to scan the area. All the shops are next to one another. He told me, "Excuse me, but are you a realtor?" I told him, "No." He asked, "Are you sure?" I said, "Yes, I'm sure. Not a realtor." "You look just like a colleague of mine. Can you take off your glasses for a while so I can see your eyes?" "Look man. I'm not a realtor and I'm not that friend of yours. I swear. Bu..." "My name's blah blah (handshake - pause - puppy eyes - I take it) and I'm a realtor (no shit)....
When the soft sunlight kisses your eyelids for the last time, I wish you'll find that all you ever wanted, all you ever needed, is within reach into another dream, and as you release that final breath for the first time, You will find that no options are worth discovering any longer other than twenty one grams drifting away into a golden stream of mellow ifs and sweet nothings. Inspired by many things but mostly by a scene in the film "9 Souls".