this is not a prologue or anything, but just a short thought I had in my head... "I want to be king, father. How do I become king of the whole world?" The father looked down at his boy, dressed in red robes and carrying the spear and shield of the Annutasi. Not sure how to answer, he looked over the rocky shelf they sat on and gazed at the field of tall grass spanning out to the African twilight. "The world is very big, my son. Even the wind cannot cross it without getting tired. Why do you want so much for yourself?" The boy looked down as if somewhat shamed by the question. "Why not? King Urrapa takes all our land. Why can I not take his? I will take it all and then it will be our land, and we will not have to be afraid anymore. They can be afraid." The father nodded, more to himself than anything. One thing begets another. There is no end, and that which has no end has no beginning. The stories tell it so. But his son never reads. He is always on his feet. Looking down, he reached for his sons hand and held it out before him. "All things are as dust and air. And a man will spend his life chasing after such things believing they are his. All is before you, my son. All under heaven, beneath you and around you. When you can hold it all in your hands, then you will be king of the world." The boy was quiet before he reached down to the ground and grabbed a fist full of earth. "No, father. I will hold men, and they will hold the earth for me."
I don't know why I get so obsessed on these types of details. One of the most troubling things I try to hunt down is a more-or-less structured comparison between the prices of two different ages (modern vs late medieval, specifically). After doing this for so long I'd just caution other writers not to follow this red herring. It's impossible. There can be no general comparison because things like the ease of production, the relative value of certain items back then, and the shifting demand for that item are a few of the things that would have determined the price. For instance, you can not compare the price of a horse from the medieval period to the price of a horse today. You cannot compare the knight (the medieval comparative of a mobile tank) to a modern tank today. The demand, the ease of procuring, raising, and training, and all these other things differs wildly. The most effective way I found of determining a price comparison is not by looking at the prices themselves, necessarily, but the value. Compare the price of one thing to another thing in the same time period. The price of a horse compared to that of a hammer. The annual salary of George Washington compared to that of a merchant compared to that of the countries total revenue. By doing this and using a bit of reason and mental weighing you can sort of feel out the relative value of one thing and another in that time period. By knowing this, you can begin to reason out the wages of other professions. In the end, within reason, you determine the relative value of everything anyway so no use in looking for some formula to emulate.
There wasn't anything in the waves when I first looked. Kneeling by the rocky shoreline as the light faded from a gray sky, the wind blew in from waters that carried the chill of the approaching winter and the salt of the sea. The rush of the tide rolling up and sliding back towards the horizon filled the air as I lay back on the sand and let the rawness of the moment sweep over me. But it was getting darker and for some reason the darkness and being so near the water made me feel uncomfortable. I rolled up into a sitting position, stretching my arms and yawning as I looked out over the horizon one last time before I rose to my feet and turned towards the road somewhere's in the distance when I snapped back around, something I glimpsed ringing inside. Did I really see… Alarmed, my eyes scanned up and down the rocks that jutted out into the frothing cold sea, swearing I had seen a pale figure, arms against the dark rocks, when suddenly, about fifty feet out into the water, two thin arms broke out again, flailing wildly back and forth above the surface. Before I knew it I was running barefoot towards the water and leaping up the rocks. I couldn’t say what made me leap out so quickly, but just as suddenly as my courage had carried me out, it left me. My feet formed around the wet stones with increasing terror as I shakily progressed out above the open sea, slipping and jerking with bolts of fear shooting threatening to seize me. The further out I got the stronger the roar became- the sound and sight of waves falling against the rocks rising like a thundering chorus. But the fear of watching someone die seemed to will me ahead of myself. Scared of each step, I advanced along the rocks further and further, now so frightened that soon I crawled along on hands and feet. The light was fading quickly and what once seemed a short distance seemed a very long way back. The spray of the water fell all over me, the winds chilling as they swept through my damp clothes. Coming this far I could see a face in the water, pale white skin with pale blue eyes that seemed to cling me in place. It wasn't beauty, really. It was as if her eyes were hands and mines was the rope that held her up from sinking forever. Spluttering, flailing, her eyes never left mine. It seemed like forever that I stood there, helpless and frightened at the situation. There seemed no way to reach down there. The rocks were too wet and the sea rolled hard enough to push and pull the woman into the rocks, and then there was the wind. If it had not been so much sea spray I would have been sure I was crying from nerves. But desperation made me move closer. I couldn't do nothing. I couldn't just let her die. And all that time, when she could clear her face of the water, she cried up to me ’help me, help me, please’ and I don’t think I felt anything as terrible as a woman’s distress. I dropped one leg down after the other, closer and closer till I was kneeling on the edge of the only flat stone around, shaking from fear as much as the cold. The water was breaking over me like a heavy blanket. I pushed it out of my mind as waves brought the woman's arms close against my own, flailing and slapping, slipping off before yanking her back out of reach. I knelt further, reached farther. I didn't notice I was yelling out to her so much until the pain swelled in my throat. I fought images of myself being knocked into the swaying chaos of the open oceans as the woman struggled for life. I reached out once more, straining to grab her arm as the waves pushed her in again and this time I caught her. She was still writhing. I nearly freaked, thinking her shifting wild weight would pull me over with her. I tensed around the stone, fighting bone-deep fright as I pulled her closer to the rocks. Both her hands clasped around my wrist and her face stayed above water now more often than not. I could feel relief and strength flooding through me. Before, her cries bounced through me like an echo, but now I was firmer. I could feel myself steadying, but the light was so dim now that both my skin and hers was fast becoming the only discernible objects. I pulled her closer, feeling stronger and stronger, fear giving way to purpose. She seemed to lean back as if to get her foot up against the rocks when out from the water I saw the bottom half of her body. It extended not into to legs but a sickeningly thick, pale trunk of flesh covered with...scales? I don’t know when I started screaming, but I was screaming so hard blood might have been flying out. My arm recoiled, my body snatching back from the water, but her arm struck out with a flash, and I was snatched from the rocks with jarring force, pulled down deep as her arms clasped over mine, pinning them to my sides while I felt her powerful body churn through the water. My endless screams of terror gurgled into the darkness, my lungs squeezing, my body seizing, shaking and scrambled helplessly as I lost my mind and my body took over. Soon my body seemed to give it's last efforts. My lungs stung from the water that filled them. My body jerked and twisted with less and less force and then I felt its mouth seal over my neck and teeth sink down into his flesh. It's hold was still solid, my arms pinned so tight my lungs could only collapse but not expand to breath back in. But now it didn't even hurt. I just fell sleepy and weightless, fading in the black depths, pondering on the exotic feel of teeth in my neck as a tongue, rough and alive, slid around my skin. In only moments all was nothing but fading sensation. And even that gave way to an emptiness that carried me beyond the cold, deep into a void I knew in the pit of my being there would be no return from.
I guess there's two types of secrets you would have; your own and someone else's. At least in my case, when the subject of that secret arises in conversation, there is always an urge to tell if it is someone else's, whether negative or positive. There's almost a giddy joy in it that you have to restrain yourself from letting slip. But if it is a subject edging close to your own secrets, you only want to let slip if it is something that would reflect positively on you. Negative secrets make you drawn in and paranoid or shifty and uncomfortable like your insides are trying to pick up and run away. Seeing as though other peoples secrets are so tempting to let go, for whatever reason, it's probably safe to say that a secret between two is one to many. And that one being anyone. ANYONE. Why? Because you can control yourself, but you can't control the world around you.
Imagine your soul hanging in a void surrounded by a perfect nothing but empty blackness. So light your thoughts are the heaviest thing on you. You are only aware of the four cardinal directions. Which direction do you feel a pull to; a spiritual affinity towards? Looking at a compass and thinking about it, it seems like each direction has a general spiritual characteristic about it. North: travel, discovery, danger, challenge South: apathy, pain, runaways, lifeless East: mystical, adventurous, persevering, determined, spiritually rich West; methodical, analytical, mechanical, disseminating Me, the two I felt drawn towards the most was the east by far, and slightly the north. But that does not describe my character. I'm the exact opposite, in truth. More inclined to be majorly west and slightly south. I wonder if it is because opposites attract. If we are one way, we seek somewhere towards our opposite. So I'm West and South
I'm wandering what can I do to be different? How can I tell a story people have never heard before? My story is not different. My story is the same, only rearranged. A simple con but not convincing. So I scraped it...and made another from the pieces. Or rather, I made more pieces. Nothing fits together. They cannot because the story has no plot. The story has no plot because I cannot think of one that has not been used.
So I called someone a saint today in the only way I ever call someone a saint...dripping with sarcasm. Well, more like a flash flood, but afterwards I wondered what does it mean to be a Saint. I think many people, as I did, think a Saint is some morally flawless person; some heavenly God-servant with nothing but angels and worship on his mind. A moral leader of the people. Maybe the Church (insert religion here) believes that also, but to me it seemed a Saint was someone who was perhaps just as ordinary and conflicted as we are. Someone with a few stains on his rug who takes it upon himself to help other people with their particular burdens- whether it was a product of their own misbehavior or not- while having to deal with his own, and that's a charming thought. To think there are people out there who are just like us and yet are willing to sacrifice time and comfort on their part to bring some of that to us. To be clearer, a Saint would not be someone who goes to church every week, who never did a bad thing or never told a lie, never stole, or never got in a fight. That's just an incredibly boring human being or the morally perfect human being. A Saint suffers for you. A Saint is a servant who asks nothing in return. They are no more or less than you are, but even so are willing to help you for the sole purpose of helping you without some form of compensation. Whether that's the right way to live life, well, whatever floats their boat.... As for Sinners, well. I certainly fit the mugshot and in terms of Sinners the only definition I can offer is there's the good sinner (normal people), the bad sinner (you've got bad intentions and you know it), and the downright wicked (you're a serious threat to people). How to judge beforehand, lol. Good luck.
Was wondering about the saying that love adheres most to lies. OK, I said that, but I was wondering if it is true. Most people may deny this, but then I would ask them...what would your relationship be like if you never lied to her and she never lied to you. Never. Not even about the littlest thing.
Step 1: Buy $400 Gaystation Step 2: Play enthusiastically Step 3: Watch hours of gameplay trashed when console abruptly shuts off with Yellow Light of Death Step 4: Recover composure and resume breathing Step 5: Go to Internet for help. Step 6: Wonder at how many people share my problem. Step 7: Buy freakin Heat Gun and thermal paste, fix it, and feel accomplished Step 8: Play for next three days Step 9: Watch Playstation simply snap of with blinking red light. Step 10: Recover composure and resume breathing. Step 11: Go to Youtube for fix. Step 12: Wonder at how many people share my problem. Step 13: Never buy a Playstation again.
Some things I learned recently... - Cooking is an awesome alchemy - Never leave your valuables in the open when arguing with women - Do not lend out what you are not prepared to lose - The dog will indeed bite the hand that feeds it if it is hungry enough - History and life are the most frequented victims of plagiarism - imagination is not creation, but the reconstruction of abstract thoughts and things. the chimera of writing - A man's situation is more accurately accessed not so much by his situation but what he is doing about it - You may hang on the thread you leave loose - All a writer ever needs is in them and around them - If you are writing in your own blood, stop it - Despite accusations, the sun never stopped shining
I can change your mood with the colors I say red, green, white, or gray I can change your mood with the words I choose win, fight, hurt, or lose I can change your thought with symbols and signs smiling, sinking, a baby dying I create, but much more I influence it's part of the fun of writing.
New Years Resolutions... Don't really have any. Maybe just avoid all the mistakes of last year...become a little stronger this year...cut the fat...and stay focused. Sounds good. Why am I thinking about this now... Why wait till the end of the year? Why am I typing this out anyway...
I think chess is a great metaphor for life, but it lacks three basic things as far as I have been able to notice... 1. In chess, a piece that begins as a king stays as a king. In life, any piece can become another piece. The method and the difficulty of doing so is determined by the situation. 2. Aside from the pieces themselves, the situation also changes with varying degrees of unpredictabilitiy. It would almost be like three-dimensional chess where players had to deal not only with the pieces, but shifting terrain, weather, and other such external variables like chance. 3. In chess, the game is over when the king is captured/killed. In life, it is not necessarily so. If chess were like life, the only two ways for defeat would be for the opponent to convince or force you to give the fight and abdicate or for him to destroy every unit to the man. Because if a king is captured another piece will be raised king. The opponent simply has one less piece to work with. Chess does teach some basic concepts when thought of as a metaphor of life. The first is that it is important to learn and understand the nature, abilities, and limits of yourself and the things around you; to be observant. Only then will you be able to guage hazards and opportunities and navigate your way around them. Jumping off from the above, when you understand something, you understand its basic habits. Habits mean predictability and what is understood and can be anticipated...you get the rest. Chess also teaches you that your beginning position is not relevant to victory. The king may seem like a powerful position or important piece, but it is actually the weakest piece and a constant liability. The King is a prisoner of his own team and the target of the opponent. He cannot be exposed, his movements are always under scrutiny, nor can he move with speed. Ludicrous as it sounds that the whole game should end because one peice is missing, that being the case, the king is always kept secure for its own sake and the sake of the game. Of course, have a plan. Think a few steps ahead of time and plan for deviations. While things may be basically predictable you can't predict everything and something unexpected is bound to pop up. Be flexible, don't be predictable yourself, have a plan, and then have a plan B. Chess and life are timed games. This forces a person to have to learn to think and act effectively. All thought and no action is like a car with no traction. You have every intention of doing something but you make little if any progress. However, all action without thought is like a car with a brick on the pedal and no driver. The car just plunges full speed wherever chance may land it, and usually, it's into a wreck. Chess teaches you to be swift of thought and action. To analyze, evaluate, and execute as quickly and effectively as possible. NO, doing this for a chess game does not mean you will be good at doing this for life in general. Chess teaches to be cautios, economc, and resourceful. In chess, there is no profit scheme. You start with a certain amount of pieces and from there on its a war of attrition. You can spend todays check if you know you'll get another in a month but when you know thats your last check you tend to be resourceful, cautious, and exceedingly shrewd. Not a movement is intentionally wasted. If you must sacrifice a piece, it is judged as ultimately necessary in order to fulfill the broader objective. I guess long story short, life requires skill, observation, confidence, strategy, resourefulness, planning, and drive...I think. I'm not a sage...but that would be cool, though.