The Memories of an Addicted Mind
Sensations rush into your mind. It’s always like this. Sound crescendos in your ears, starting from the softest of whispers that caress and tickle ears like those of your younger sister when you were 6 and she told you all her secrets before disappearing with him; and grows to a deafening roar that gets it loudest right before muffling out of existence. You are haunted by the explosion that almost killed you but killed so many others … And the noise, how it never ended, only changed into a persistent ringing that remained through those years of struggle afterward. The sounds begin and end in a blink, but are intense enough for you to always feel compelled to clasp your hands to your ears and shudder. You are never sure if you shudder from the sounds itself or how they bring up the image of little sister’s haunted eyes in your mind.
Random images, sounds and smells plague your senses and your mind molds them into memories that change with each experience. The hands of a forgotten lover grasp you firmly and they smile teasingly at you, the air smelling like sea salt and vanilla. They turn into those of a friend stabbing you repeatedly with a knife in the shadows of an alley that smells of something rancid, the red polish of their nails grasping the knife hilt are illuminated by the light of passing cars. In the distance a sign for a diner blinks neon light into the darkness of that cold night. Later on those grasping hands turn into the tiny grasping arms of the baby you retrieved from her mother’s stiff arms. You were merely scavenging and had no idea that the still bundle could be anything alive next to something so long dead.
The images fade and only sounds remain. You hear the screams of joy that time when you snuck off and had your first experience, so high pitched and stupidly young with that annoying nervous tremor of youth. You hear the sobs of your father after the weight of the news hit him. She was only 4. You hear the coos of that baby again. She was so innocent and so skinny. She didn’t survive the night and you felt so relieved and so hungry. Yet again you are always compelled to vomit but your stomach is empty so your dry heaves only produces saliva and air. And then darkness and silence and another few seconds have gone by.
Before you can recover you are savagely beaten by everyone with whom you ever laid a hand on, and there were so many - the kid you picked on in grade school who looked like what you sister could have grown up to become had he not taken her; the poor wretch for whose few crumbs of food were worth beating him to death. Each punch a reminder of the pain you inflicted on others and each kick in the gut a dire warning that with each time you go through this there will be more waiting to inflict more damage. You relive the torture that led you here - your eye balls are plucked out, each finger nail peeled off, each tooth ripped out, each bone broken, set afire and burned to death. She smiled so hard while they were doing it, yet another friend, and she smiled so hard when you returned the favour. While this is all taking place you are electrified with intense pleasure like a drug to dull the excruciating agony. This is always your favourite part of the experience. One time they found you begging for the pain not to end, just so you can be jolted with pleasure longer. Perhaps one day you will never recover from this part.
And then everything is as it was and it is all over in less than a moment. Mercifully, everything happens one at a time, as if your body is a machine and this is all a biological systems check. After your first time you emerged a whimpering ball, wracked with sobs and screaming for someone that later on, when questioned about, you had no recollection – just a figment from your stressed memory. Yet you do it again, and again, and again ... Haunted by the memories of the past. Dying is just too sweet; being reborn even better; staying alive – merely a matter of staying alive long enough for that life to have meaning.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Creative Endeavor Numero Uno: A micro story
The MD Club
As an investigative reporter it is your job to delve into the icky, the sticky, the gicky, the straight up shitty and everything else that rhymes. So what is the secretive and exclusive M Club? At first glance it seems to be a bunch of muscle bound weight lifting enthusiasts doing what their kind do best – gloating … together … At second glance you think about the illicit. They’re too muscle bound to be normal, so maybe they’re a bunch of steroid enthusiasts? But ah ha, you never actually see any of them lift weights or take anything drug-like, nor do they seem especially enraged or possess shrunken … ahem. Days of hiding out in dumpsters peeking through lids; fake wigs and gaudy makeup incognito while in an assortment of dive clubs and other establishment; renting out next door apartments and poor excuses for being around them all the time as you follow and record their every move proved to be fruitless and smelly. Maybe it’s an inhalant that gives you muscle without any exercise? Yea, but after breaking into their homes you realize an astonishing truth while looking at their childhood photos in a fit of nosiness and romantic imaginings – not only are these individuals muscle bound now, they’ve always been muscle bound. Talk about buff youngsters. Talk about buff babies!!
Intrigued and frustrated, this mystery would have swallowed you whole and left you with no answers had it not been for the article. Schwarzenegger dog – super muscled dog due to deficient myostatin gene. Eureka! And the mystery is solved. MD Club stands for Myostatin Deficiency Club. And then from there you obsess over secret Nazi breeding programs left over from World War Two to produce these super buff creatures of human likeness who must go about in secrecy … Only to be met with the very real conclusion, after witnessing a yamaka wearing member with the physical and facial likeness of Kal-El of Krypton, that maybe they were just born this way – children the result of gods fucking around with mortal women. Cot damn!
Of course, simply asking would have saved you all the fun trouble.
As an investigative reporter it is your job to delve into the icky, the sticky, the gicky, the straight up shitty and everything else that rhymes. So what is the secretive and exclusive M Club? At first glance it seems to be a bunch of muscle bound weight lifting enthusiasts doing what their kind do best – gloating … together … At second glance you think about the illicit. They’re too muscle bound to be normal, so maybe they’re a bunch of steroid enthusiasts? But ah ha, you never actually see any of them lift weights or take anything drug-like, nor do they seem especially enraged or possess shrunken … ahem. Days of hiding out in dumpsters peeking through lids; fake wigs and gaudy makeup incognito while in an assortment of dive clubs and other establishment; renting out next door apartments and poor excuses for being around them all the time as you follow and record their every move proved to be fruitless and smelly. Maybe it’s an inhalant that gives you muscle without any exercise? Yea, but after breaking into their homes you realize an astonishing truth while looking at their childhood photos in a fit of nosiness and romantic imaginings – not only are these individuals muscle bound now, they’ve always been muscle bound. Talk about buff youngsters. Talk about buff babies!!
Intrigued and frustrated, this mystery would have swallowed you whole and left you with no answers had it not been for the article. Schwarzenegger dog – super muscled dog due to deficient myostatin gene. Eureka! And the mystery is solved. MD Club stands for Myostatin Deficiency Club. And then from there you obsess over secret Nazi breeding programs left over from World War Two to produce these super buff creatures of human likeness who must go about in secrecy … Only to be met with the very real conclusion, after witnessing a yamaka wearing member with the physical and facial likeness of Kal-El of Krypton, that maybe they were just born this way – children the result of gods fucking around with mortal women. Cot damn!
Of course, simply asking would have saved you all the fun trouble.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Goals for the New Year
Each goal will have a future blog post detailing the steps I need t take to meet my goals.
1) Successfully apply to med school and all that entails
3) Take even better care of my body
4) Start Saving
5) Prepare for entering med school
6) Prepare a plan B for med school just in case things don't pan out the way I plan
7) Invest in some good gear (thermos, exercise cloths, etc ...)
Will add more to this list as this month goes by.
1) Successfully apply to med school and all that entails
3) Take even better care of my body
4) Start Saving
5) Prepare for entering med school
6) Prepare a plan B for med school just in case things don't pan out the way I plan
7) Invest in some good gear (thermos, exercise cloths, etc ...)
Will add more to this list as this month goes by.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Assaulted!
And pissed about it!
Just leaving my friend's house tonight and there is this group of kids in the road in front of me. Now by kids I mean maybe 15 to about mid 20's. They're always kicking around late night on weekends and I usually just ride by them without getting much of anything. This being Bermuda people are expected to give the awkward greeting, so I always just smile or something like that. Well tonight I guess they got into a pack mentality or something. They were kicking around a soccor ball and instead of moving out of the road while I'm passing, the stay crowded and the guy with the ball moves it back in forth with his feet to make it seem like he was gonna kick it at the bike. I'm thinking "that's really dumb" because if he did kick it out it wouldn't harm me and the ball would go careening off into the darkness - they wouldn't have anything to play with anymore. Also, while I was riding by, another guy called out "let's knock off her helmet!" Apparently they've been speaking amongst themselves thinking of ways to punish me and that was all they could think of, because well they're stupid dumb kids. And again I think "um I've just been assaulted" the soccer ball and that phrase was enough to have me pretty pissed. Had they kicked the soccer ball at me or knocked off my helmet, then it would have been assault and battery and I would have turned right around and gone back to my friend's house to call the police. This ai n't at some high school, but out in the streets, so, in the streets, the police take over if people don't act civil toward one another. I just rode by quietly and unaffected knowing they wouldn't do anything. Still though, who knows another night they might actually do something. Probably not knowing how these youth tend to be all "assault" and no guts to do the battery part they threaten to inflict. Poor fuckers. They get my "Asshole of the Month Award".
And then I think to myself, what would have happened had I not looked like someone they could potentially victimize? I'm fucking tired of being made the target of people's hate, both within my age group, my sex, my race, outside of my race, in my country, outside of my country, in my family, outside of my damned family, in relationships, etc ... Sigh, but that's the cost of not being a fucking meat bag to be devoured by the brain slug that wicked force in this world.
Just leaving my friend's house tonight and there is this group of kids in the road in front of me. Now by kids I mean maybe 15 to about mid 20's. They're always kicking around late night on weekends and I usually just ride by them without getting much of anything. This being Bermuda people are expected to give the awkward greeting, so I always just smile or something like that. Well tonight I guess they got into a pack mentality or something. They were kicking around a soccor ball and instead of moving out of the road while I'm passing, the stay crowded and the guy with the ball moves it back in forth with his feet to make it seem like he was gonna kick it at the bike. I'm thinking "that's really dumb" because if he did kick it out it wouldn't harm me and the ball would go careening off into the darkness - they wouldn't have anything to play with anymore. Also, while I was riding by, another guy called out "let's knock off her helmet!" Apparently they've been speaking amongst themselves thinking of ways to punish me and that was all they could think of, because well they're stupid dumb kids. And again I think "um I've just been assaulted" the soccer ball and that phrase was enough to have me pretty pissed. Had they kicked the soccer ball at me or knocked off my helmet, then it would have been assault and battery and I would have turned right around and gone back to my friend's house to call the police. This ai n't at some high school, but out in the streets, so, in the streets, the police take over if people don't act civil toward one another. I just rode by quietly and unaffected knowing they wouldn't do anything. Still though, who knows another night they might actually do something. Probably not knowing how these youth tend to be all "assault" and no guts to do the battery part they threaten to inflict. Poor fuckers. They get my "Asshole of the Month Award".
And then I think to myself, what would have happened had I not looked like someone they could potentially victimize? I'm fucking tired of being made the target of people's hate, both within my age group, my sex, my race, outside of my race, in my country, outside of my country, in my family, outside of my damned family, in relationships, etc ... Sigh, but that's the cost of not being a fucking meat bag to be devoured by the brain slug that wicked force in this world.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Women in Space Westerns
In my internet travels I've discovered a nice little way to flex my short story fiction writing skills. A Feminist fiction group is asking people for submissions of various different prose, poetry and other mediums of fiction for their November 2008 event. I would like to write something. Feminist fiction in their standards is everything but the typical white male centered fiction. I have some ideas and am thinking of doing a character based on my younger brother. I have until October 28th to get it all thought out and written down and submitted. :P I can do! :D
Check out the website for more details:
http://www.spacewesterns.com/submissions/#22ndCarnival
Here is an excerpt:
What we are looking for: Genre, Topics, and Themes
Space Westerns
First and foremost, we’re looking for Space Westerns: works with themes from the Western genre set in Outer-space, or having some element of extra-terrestrial travel. This is the majority of the fiction that we publish. Our preference is to publish works that contain, in part, some form of off-earth travel.
For our purposes we consider the following to be examples of works with strong Space Western themes (inter-planetary fiction containing Western genre themes): Flash Gordon (comic, movie serial, and 1978 animated serial), Buck Rogers, Star Wars, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica (both series), Firefly, Serenity, Mike Resnick’s Santiago, Ande Norton’s Beastmaster series, Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles, The Adventures of the Galaxy Rangers, Bravestarr, Silverhawks, Cowboy Bebop, Outlaw Star, Coyote Ragtime Show, and Trigun.
Science Fiction Westerns
Science Fiction themes with Western elements (setting, characters, etc.).
Steam Punk
We’d like to see Steam Punk (after all, the era is right) with some Western elements (themes, setting, characters, etc.). Space travel is a plus, but not strictly necessary.
Weird West
We’re using the term Weird Western here to denote Western/Fantasy/Horror genre blending. We are least likely to publish a Weird Western unless it also includes Space Western elements.
Feminist & Minority Themes
We’ve all seen the white man in a white hat riding his white horse into the sunset. The Western genre is replete with white male driven stories. The Space Western sub-genre isn’t much different. Send us stories with strong women, weak women, but most of all stories with real women. Send us stories from a non-WASP point-of-view: fiction about Chinese, Native American, Mexican/Spanish, African/African-American and/or even the “New Immigrants” — (German, Irish/Gaelic, Italian, Russian) peoples influences on the Western themes.
Check out the website for more details:
http://www.spacewesterns.com/submissions/#22ndCarnival
Here is an excerpt:
What we are looking for: Genre, Topics, and Themes
Space Westerns
First and foremost, we’re looking for Space Westerns: works with themes from the Western genre set in Outer-space, or having some element of extra-terrestrial travel. This is the majority of the fiction that we publish. Our preference is to publish works that contain, in part, some form of off-earth travel.
For our purposes we consider the following to be examples of works with strong Space Western themes (inter-planetary fiction containing Western genre themes): Flash Gordon (comic, movie serial, and 1978 animated serial), Buck Rogers, Star Wars, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica (both series), Firefly, Serenity, Mike Resnick’s Santiago, Ande Norton’s Beastmaster series, Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles, The Adventures of the Galaxy Rangers, Bravestarr, Silverhawks, Cowboy Bebop, Outlaw Star, Coyote Ragtime Show, and Trigun.
Science Fiction Westerns
Science Fiction themes with Western elements (setting, characters, etc.).
Steam Punk
We’d like to see Steam Punk (after all, the era is right) with some Western elements (themes, setting, characters, etc.). Space travel is a plus, but not strictly necessary.
Weird West
We’re using the term Weird Western here to denote Western/Fantasy/Horror genre blending. We are least likely to publish a Weird Western unless it also includes Space Western elements.
Feminist & Minority Themes
We’ve all seen the white man in a white hat riding his white horse into the sunset. The Western genre is replete with white male driven stories. The Space Western sub-genre isn’t much different. Send us stories with strong women, weak women, but most of all stories with real women. Send us stories from a non-WASP point-of-view: fiction about Chinese, Native American, Mexican/Spanish, African/African-American and/or even the “New Immigrants” — (German, Irish/Gaelic, Italian, Russian) peoples influences on the Western themes.
So I got this film fest ...
And it's really taking off. The first showing is next week and I am feeling so good. I hope the turn out is decent. 10 to 15 people would be a nice starter, even if they are just friends. I've advertised around campus, have hit Rock Island and Phase One. My next targets are my older brother's work, my mom's work, and possibly my older sister's work. I should also hit leisure time and some of the movie theaters. The week of the event I am going to make an announcement in each of my classes. I would love their support.
But now I have school work, and a break in which to look forward next week. I have some goals I would like to see through and some dreams to realize. :D
I'm learning to balance that inner punky creature with the mopey shy snufflupacuss weirdo and the geeky nerdcore school girl that my personality has triple split up into.
But now I have school work, and a break in which to look forward next week. I have some goals I would like to see through and some dreams to realize. :D
I'm learning to balance that inner punky creature with the mopey shy snufflupacuss weirdo and the geeky nerdcore school girl that my personality has triple split up into.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Jobs and Frogs
I've been soooo tired this week. It has been hard to concentrate on school work; or course a disastrous calculus test did not help my situation any. So this week I've been working on my film festival and pretty much coasting. I have a test on Tuesday and special plans this weekend, so well, this tiredness has been working against me by backlogging my work. Ah well. It'll be done and at least my film fest flyers are finish. Pop on over to my film fest blog for a look in the next couple days.
This morn I saw a two day temp position in the paper, and well I jumped on it and applied. It's just inventory work, so it's peanuts really. It's exciting though because the position begins next week and I will be getting cash! Ah making money is such a wonderful feeling. Hopefully they pay well and hopefully this will allow me to feel more comfortable with seeking out more employment opportunities. Still though, this is the perfect little gig. I am waiting to hear on an on-call marketing job. I'll be the person who stands on the street trying to get you to try products or passing out flyers to you. The only draw back of that job is I might have to go and get my look refined as it entails someone who is approachable - makeup, good clothes, groomed hair, etc ... So in my world that means mineral facial powder, newer/my nicer punk-goth-funky-casual clothes, a new pair of shoes (red chuck taylors!!), and doing something to hydrate my ultra dry afro (possibly dye it black with indigo and find someplace on this isle that sell shea butter. That or get twists again with like black and funky green or blue dyed afro-type hair or something).
Yeeeeee-ep. And I am planning for Halloween. I want to make my own costume. I've been going to DIY websites looking for tips on making ones own cloths and so on and so forth. I'm getting a lot of inspiration. Now I just need to go thrift store and yard sale hopping. I want an old wedding dress with a corset-type top and the gauze lacy-type skirt material to dye black and other colors. Oh this is going to be fun!
But school first!!!!!
This morn I saw a two day temp position in the paper, and well I jumped on it and applied. It's just inventory work, so it's peanuts really. It's exciting though because the position begins next week and I will be getting cash! Ah making money is such a wonderful feeling. Hopefully they pay well and hopefully this will allow me to feel more comfortable with seeking out more employment opportunities. Still though, this is the perfect little gig. I am waiting to hear on an on-call marketing job. I'll be the person who stands on the street trying to get you to try products or passing out flyers to you. The only draw back of that job is I might have to go and get my look refined as it entails someone who is approachable - makeup, good clothes, groomed hair, etc ... So in my world that means mineral facial powder, newer/my nicer punk-goth-funky-casual clothes, a new pair of shoes (red chuck taylors!!), and doing something to hydrate my ultra dry afro (possibly dye it black with indigo and find someplace on this isle that sell shea butter. That or get twists again with like black and funky green or blue dyed afro-type hair or something).
Yeeeeee-ep. And I am planning for Halloween. I want to make my own costume. I've been going to DIY websites looking for tips on making ones own cloths and so on and so forth. I'm getting a lot of inspiration. Now I just need to go thrift store and yard sale hopping. I want an old wedding dress with a corset-type top and the gauze lacy-type skirt material to dye black and other colors. Oh this is going to be fun!
But school first!!!!!
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