Rise

Enter:

ever watchful eyes of evil intent,
the very same utilized to seal in a positive faith
(through sardonic fits of hammurabi).

mystical, tempting, threatening, action-packs of
this paranoia, the state of suspension,
limbo, rides on, further and farther.

what, just a drop off the edge,
semantics and nonsense,
enough fresh air to allow
red blood cells to bustle,
clairvoyance.

no more down
no more up
just level.

the filament glows bright tightly
under such tension.

Where the World Ends and You Begin

If there is a purpose to human life, then we certainly haven't a clue what it is. Maybe thats for the better, if all people knew everything, life would be boring, trite, depressing and pointless. What questions would remain to be answered? This is a similar feeling to playing a strategy or puzzle game where you keep conquering levels until you reach the end. Now that you are at the end, you have a moment of triumph and bliss. But soon after that passes, you realize, there is nothing left. You are alone. Some would at this point settle to play the game over and over again, perfecting their score. But no matter what, that replay of the game just isn't as satisfying as the original feeling, the first time you went through each level. Does that mean we should quit while we are ahead? Revel at our achievements and move on? Does it mean we should go level at a time, spacing out our playing time, stretching out the game's enjoyment.

By that rational, live life in pieces, each step of the way you ask some questions, you answer some of them. Then you are content and you stop asking questions. Then at the next break point, you start posing them again. This way you go through life playing level after level, never quite reaching the end. Never quite reaching that down point or slope downward in the curve. The game stays fresh, the levels are always new.

Solo, center of the universe, wrong way to think. The only purposeful way to see: a "creator" or a "judge" or simply a way to measure points in life. Units of success, units of failure, etc.

The only purposeful way to see these things, is to see yourself as part of a whole. You are part of a bigger plan, a piece of the code that accomplishes X. You die, he dies, she dies, it dies, to balance something else. That something else is positive and feeds the whole, makes the whole happy, gives it a sugar rush like a Snickers bar.

How do you get closer to this point of seeing yourself in the whole? In this capitalist society, full of notions, objects and other material, how can you truly see yourself as part? You can see yourself, the truth is you don't ever feel like you are contributing to it in a positive way. Some succumb to their fear and take on a penance of some sort (social work, men of the church, ascetic vagabonds). Others use the easier methods of leaving such thoughts behind via rationalizations, pleasures, vices. Some of the pleasures or vices seem altruistic, others are more obviously self servient. I submit that perhaps the only way to truly do this is in complete solitude, consistently working to understand one's place in our ecosystem, the natural ecology as opposed to the social one.

Some would say this is extreme. Some would say they have accomplished the same, growing humanity healthily while staying apart of society, rather than "quashing all needs for the social." These people are somewhat correct. Not everyone can or should try to reach this level of connection. Again, there needs to be that balance, some do and some don't, but overall a neutral charge. In other words (going back to the original thought), if everyone knew everything, the world would seem meaningless (a paradox, we would have thought it would be ever meaningful). How different is this from a Puritanic village? Everyone believes the same (we've seen the story) and out of this come those who are tired of the banality of their thoughts. They break from the norm and order turns to chaos (though we translate these situations in fiction as order turning into beauty or art or love, etc.). Wouldn't we do the same? Wouldn't someone or revolution just bring us back to the state we are in now? I submit it would. Therefore, we'll never find the answers to what we seek. And if we do, we'll burn the playbook the first chance we get.

?arkin? on Underworld

Ominous, British voices
Soothing, see like, there --> ?

????????, ??? ????, ????? --> O(hhh)

?error, ?reedom, ?bscurity..
?ounce, ?ounce ?ounce. .. ... ....

engrosse?, collecte?, parte?
water, fruit, clarity.

Megaman

Particle bit brain
Manipulate, finger by finger,
Pleading for lightning,

A flat space of ethereal blindness.
Disemboweled nerves, bloodied yolk,
A crippled commitment to becoming healthy.

Sounds drowned in synapse firings,
General disconnects, and now,
Blank

Particle masters, cycling the universe, must be havin' a good ol' time hitting the reset button.

Comments on Passages

i envisioned that it could be a bit difficult to follow at times because of it's disjointed...as far as perspective goes, it's kind of tricky to explain because of where the story is at the moment...essentially, it is in fact written from the author's point of view in 3rd person...since Cal and the author are the same person (story wise) I know where you're coming from...this is by no accident however...for background purposes, i'll try to explain why i'm doing it that way...basically, the author looks at himself as a person he used to be - in a way, almost as if Cal is in fact a different person, a doppelganger of himself so to speak...

i have a pretty good idea of where i want the plot to go though haven't figured out yet all the smaller parts that will take it there yet...the story will have 2 main twists which will enable the reader (hopefully!) to understand why Cal would write about himself in the 3rd person as the author...the main points in the plot are (here come the spoilers so if you prefer not to know, i'd skip to the end of this paragraph)......Cal's friend Venkat will die, probably in about 5 more chapters due to an overdose...this will put Cal in further conflict with his own drug use, his friends, lifestyle, etc. and will start to make him question his path...there will be a few more situations like that for Cal until towards the last 3rd of the story when Cal himself will die...this will be the big turning point in the plot because when Cal dies the story will actually catch up to 3rd person present...Cal the author is actually writing this story postmortem...the idea is that the first 2/3rds of the story is his account of his life in the past...the final 1/3 of the novel will be written in the same perspective though present tense, with Cal the author trying to come to terms with what happened in his life, his breakdown of the events that led up to his death and coming to grips with his actions...so essentially, as you're reading the first 2/3rds of the story, the bouncing back and forth between Cal the person in the story and Cal the author is Cal the author's way of realizing that Cal the person is/was a different kind of individual in life than as a person writing about his life afterwards…all that is probably confusing though i hope it makes some sense and more so i'm hoping that it will come off in the novel itself...

the boy in the bush isn't meant to foreshadow too much but rather play a comic relief role throughout the scene...symbolically he represents the drug dealing world and their underhanded methods of getting around law enforcement...essentially, he's just a front, a tip of the iceberg that represents the much more shady and deeper covered people who deal drugs (represented by the house the boy goes back into)….the door that mysteriously opened and closed was done by somebody who's closer to the actual drug dealing world - point being these people are always lurking in the shadows, never truly visible, and use ignorant or needy people to do their deeds…like the door opening/closing, they only leave small traces of their existence...as far as that kid goes though, the character itself is negligible, but what he represents will be important

as far as structure goes, i have good sense of where i want the story to go and the major plot points are planned out, however, how the story gets to those plot points is not worked out at all...a lot of the writing happens in spurts where i hammer out a big chunk of a chapter or two and then put it on pause and let it stew for a bit...i usually try to stop writing where it's logical though i always make sure i know what's going to happen in the story next...this way when i start up again, i'm already going and by the time i finish writing the part i already know will happen, i've already generated more ideas to continue it, hence the spurts...once those ideas are flushed out, i usually stop again leaving one last idea on ice for next time...in some cases those ideas are very improvisational and organic, in other cases, they're conceived first and then written out...it's somewhat mood driven and situational...

indeed the story is meant to leave the reader feeling uneasy and written in a dark tone purposely…primarily because Cal the author is wrestling with himself most of the time to put down the story objectively from his perspective while also trying to figure out a deeper knowledge of himself...i guess in that sense, it's very autobiographical to myself...as i'm writing the story i'm also reflecting on myself as an individual and trying to obtain some knowledge of myself through these fictional characters...

i do draw a lot from personal experiences to write this, especially the setting and types of situations - on the other hand though, all the characters are fictional and not a 1 for 1 representation of myself or people around me…the way i've been doing it so far is fracturing myself and the others, as well as the events that happened to me and them, into certain characteristics and pools of events and remapping them onto the characters in the story...so in a way, most of the stories are actually true (in the general sense), however, each specific character in the story has events and characteristics that actually belong to several real people i know or used to know.

chapter 3 is an interesting case…in the grand scheme of things that chapter is written from personal experience, however some of the smaller events in that chapter are actually drawn from 2 other people's experiences...i knew this girl for a couple of years…we were close friends but never hooked up or even had romantic feelings for each other…i went to her birthday party at the golden rail and everyone got a bit tipsy…after, the plan was that i'd drive her home because her friend's car was too packed…on the way home, we passed a bar and decided to stop in and do some shots…as it turned out we drank 3 shots of goldschlagger…back in the car at a red light on the way back she excitedly leaned over and kissed me on the cheek as a thanks for coming to party with her…i jokingly kissed her back on the cheek…she then jokingly kissed me back again, although i didn't realize she was going to and turned to glance at her when she did, and she accidentally kissed me on the lips…this sparked some new feelings i suppose because we started hooking up right there…then i parked the car and we continued making out…then in the heat of the moment she decided she didn't want to go to her friend's house and instead wanted to go back to her dorm…not really my style to start anything serious with friends after drinking so i kept insisting to bring her back to her friend's and she just wouldn't budge and even pulled the "it's my birthday and i do what i want card" so after arguing about that for a bit i took her back to the dorm…she was tipsy but very coherent and seemed quite well under control (not my style to take advantage of drunk girls)…so anyway we continued hooking up in the dorm and started having sex…after a short while she started crying which made me concerned so i asked "what's up?"…then she said "i love you" and i was floored…i never had anything like that happen to me…so i tried to nicely tell her that it was too soon for those words but again she continued to cry which kinda freaked me out but she was still fucking back and then all of a sudden she just stopped and pulled me out and lay to her side and passed out really quick, even before i could talk to her…i was dumbfounded…firstly by the fact that she was crying and then by the fact that she said i love you and then i was like, did she just use me?…so i lay there for a bit and realized she must have been way more drunk than i previously thought…after a while i fell asleep and in a few hours had to wake up to catch a 6:30 train into new york for work…unfortunately, that fucked our friendship up because it made it look like i just left her there and didn't stay around…later i found out she blacked out even before we got to the dorm…even though i tried to talk it through with her, things always seemed weird afterwards…my hunch is in the back of her mind she thought that i knowingly took advantage of her and she couldn't trust me anymore…it left a strong impression on me at the time…probably the strangest one night stand i've ever had actually…funny thing is i'm not really into one night stands…i prefer to get to know a girl before i do anything…as a result it happened to become a dumb situation that ultimately ruined a good friendship…in any case, i mainly used that experience and wove in two other stories…one from an acquaintance in college who told me about this girl he hooked up with at a frat party but didn't even know her name…they just had sex in his frat brother's room and that was it…i could never really understand that but to each his own i guess….the other story was about another frat guy i knew who had all these elaborate methods of getting back at girls who cheated on him…one of which was the roman helmet which sadly enough wasn't the worst of them but still sounded pretty bad…apparently he actually did do that to a girl that cheated on him and she passed out on a couch with her shoes on at one of his frat parties - in front of everyone with pictures and everything…if you reread chapter 3 you can get a sense of what i mean by making the story a blend of personal experiences and other's stories as well…one way or another there's truth to them even though i'm not necessarily putting the events in order or into the original setting or using the original real life characters…hopefully that makes it a bit clearer…

…i'm not really writing it for any particular purpose…just a way to keep myself creative and also reflective i guess and i do share it with some people and it's good to hear their feedback as well…financially or business wise though i don't expect it to go anywhere…

Passages - Part 5 - Review or Footnote

(Sorry!)

Sorry for making mistakes;
I shrunk instead of growing as I aged.

timeline (I perceived):

past,
moroccan,
nutjob realtors,
vans,
reasonable man,
dub in ya mind,
hemorrhaged beliefs,
emaciated confidence,
death stab,
rebirth,
neglect,
phototropic nihilism,
inexorably denied.

reasons:

quiet confusion,
foreign objects are closer than they appear,
bleached brains,

torched soul like a torched bowl.

results:

Surface indifference,
internal explosion.

dormant resentment,
dense, dense words.

conclusion:

petals on a wet, black bough.

The Facts of Hate

I hate this keyboard
And these words
and this stupid language
and all the actors who speak it
and all the inequities of happenings
the ability of some to lay guilt free
the ability of some to lay guilt stricken
stupid fucking emotional breakdowns
fatigue and its ugly piece of shit breath
chivalry and its neverending depiction of less than the truth
cowardice in the style of fatigue
anything wrapped in smoke, mirrors, dust, nothingness
pacmen of kindness,
generalizations of anything, soon nothing,
restated facts draped in night time revelary.

midnight attacks,
nowhere to run,
nothing but stress,
nothing but the opposite of clarity, not the word,
not the word,
not the word,
not the word.

the feeling
the feeling
the feeling



Words suck due to the fact they don't really say what they mean,
they are only inklings of a natured thought,
semantics and its ugly head,
a giant, pathetic monster.

like a lake of terms and fruitless actions,
this is a full fledged dip,
spiralling pencil dive.

and in the end? amounts to nothing.
couple of choice memories,
the less desirables are expunged,
convenience is the key to the language game.

fuck you convenience.