:)

Again, music saved me.

Listened to this and I know I have to get out of this rut.

A new day begins.

Last One Minute

What do you see when you close your eyes?

I see nothing.

Yet I see everything.

Open – eyed, I see you look away from me; see you look at no one. Making a point of it, perhaps? And when I close my eyes, I see that I exist.

At least I think I do.

But I need you to look at me. With that you’ll show me that I do, you know, exist.

Will you look at me?

I know you need it, too.

Thanks.

You can look away now. Or you could close your eyes. I rather enjoy the latter, but it’s up to you. Look away and you still exist in this world, close your eyes and you may end up in other worlds.

Escape…you like that, eh?

I know. I know.

Anywhere, whatever situation we may end up in, we would always want to get out of it. All that in due time. It’s a built -in mechanism, I suppose – one we can do without, but can’t.

I wonder now.

In heaven, would we still feel the urge to escape? Was it what Lucifer felt?

Just wondering.

Why?

Let me tell you a story.

This story may be about a demon or me or you, but that doesn’t matter really.

Why?

***

He walked the earth but his heart was not there. It was engaged in the place where your thoughts often wander, especially if your heart is not keeping up with what you do.

Yes, like all demons, Michal does have a heart.

Though to say it is a good or pure heart would be to go too far. It still is fact that Demon hearts do not fill with blood but with the agony inflicted upon mortals – the more agony produced, the stronger the heart becomes.

And Michal, our demon, has indeed a very strong heart. But as you already know, now it is not with him but in the nameless-place-where-hearts-often-wander.

There, his heart met The Question.

“Why?”

And now as he prowls the earth looking for willing puppets, them of the agony-inflicting type, The Question continuously takes root in his heart.

“Why do I exist? Am I really meant to be here? To be doing what I’m doing? And if I am, if I am no accident, then who or what intended for it? What…who is my creator? Why?”

The Question – it mutually seeks out all hearts and meet them all in due time. It captures yours in unexpected moments, and from then on, never really leaves.

Appeased, ignored, suppressed, but still there.

Still is.

And it leaves no body, no being out – Living, Dead, In-betweens, Angels, Demons, Guardians – all of their hearts The Question will meet.

For all of them will take part in the event.

The Event.

That which everything that was, is, and about to happen are mere necessities, preparation perhaps, all leading to the one reason why anything at all exists.

The Demon already knows this but cannot recall it. Like everyone else, it is vital for his being that The Knowledge should not interfere with the present, hence the overshadowing by present trivialities.

But one always needs to be reminded, thus the constant seeking of the answer to the purpose of one’s existence.

And in that nameless place where all hearts eventually wander, we all find our reminder – consciously or otherwise.

The Question.

***

So that’s the story.

It is as much about me as it is about Michal or you or the queen of the damned or the president of the Jews.

Why?

Why, I think you know.

J to J – A Soliloquy

(Or why you are not meant to tap your own back)

Hiya No. 1!

I didn’t think you could do it, never expected you to. Why, you tried it only once before and it sucked and I know why you think you shouldn’t do it again. I do, too. But you decided to just do it; decided to just get on and write that stupid short story – that one about some baby from hell type of flippertwit.

Again, idiocy reigned.

And blast me twice, but you’ve really finished what you set out to do this time. Why, you even made an awful series out of that rubbish!

Hahahahahahaha!

I know this wouldn’t sound much of a success to anyone but you, now don’t give me that face you know it’s the truth! But well, yes, I believe it was really an achievement for you. And I’m proud of what you’ve done. Oh come on, I mean it! I know how you didn’t have enough guts to do it; all for a number of stupid reasons if you ask me.

They’re not stupid? Pfft! Not having an English degree, not being a native speaker, inability to fluently describe what an adverb is or to distinguish who from whom, too lazy to be any good with deadlines – how are these reasons not stupid enough?! And don’t even tell me you believe those bona fide writers really know what’s different from who to whom except the letter M.

Now you believe me? Well, of course I’m proud of you, moron. I know it’s not easy to let the world know how much of an idiot you are. And it really wasn’t so bad, was it? I mean the whole experience. After all, it made you happy. And it’s great fun to stop pretending to be smart and sensible and just let out the idiocy within sometimes.

So there you have it. I just wanted to say, “Well done!” and “Don’t get used to it because I know what you have to do come the third week of this month!”

*Evil laugh time*

Mm, is this the part where I say, “It’s not you, it’s me”? No? Fine, fine.

How about bye, then?

Your amazing-er self,

No. 2

*VII. Finale

“Final Kiss” by Landix (Click to view full image)

“Now, now you heard it,

Tales most far from sweet,

Her music gentle, clear,

Yet each note hides a tear,

From Great West to Far East,

Rough North, Treach’rous South,

Where songs begin, nurtured,

Melody she sings to you now.

You may or may not believe,

She only speaketh what she sees;

No friends, enemies, allies, or foes,

The Wind simply exists -

To collect mem’ries long forgotten,

Tales without her would’bin lost,

An’ when End arrives she’ll bring it,

To Time, waiting on his post.

But End still lies in slumber,

The World sees not his face,

But you, m’dear, have met him,

Now you must leave this place.

So hold my hand now, don’t fear,

For I am only Death,

To other worlds we’ll venture,

A new tale you must set.”

*VI. Juan’s Dream

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There are people you notice, and there are those whom backgrounds just tend to swallow. Perhaps if in one particular background a crime took place in which you happened to bear witness, then asked by the authorities to describe in full detail what you have seen, you would unintentionally left out these people from your …

*V. Elegia, a Love Story

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If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn’t part of ourselves doesn’t disturb us. -Hermann Hesse (1877 – 1962), Demian I stand here in the balcony and weep, not for any cause, woes, and hurts noble but for mine and mine alone. The one time I …

*IV. Shadow’s Face

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“In Light I was born, To Dark, I succumbed, Light pierces, it burns, The Dark – home I found”   Fear. So many of you claim to know it, don’t they? And yet they are too persistent to wash away the stains of their own evils and its scents – deny it even, if they …

*III. The Thinker’s Monologue

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Every morning, sunrise or not, there’s one thing that remains the same – I wish I were someone else. I wish I could sleep; that I could eat, cry. That I could die. I guess the bitterness stems from not being able to move even an inch from my post for too long a time …

Collaborations and Introductions

I know it’s a little late for the latter, but then again…

Three things.

Let me start by sharing to you the works of my, err, good friend, Landix.

“The Deal” created for the story Tales of the Wind’s Kiss: Devil’s Child

Click to view full image.

“Le Pedofile“, this time for Tales of the Wind’s Kiss: Music Box

Click to view full image.

Now tell me you think they’re horrifyingly beautiful.

I know, I know.

It’s vital you understand here that Landix is a lunatic. I asked for his permission to place a link here to his website but the doofus declined. Yes. Crazy, just crazy I’m telling you.

But he’s also really good, so it’s not much of a question why I collaborated with him. At least to me.

Really now, Landix is not all that bad. A little crazy, but an artist and more importantly, a friend. You’ll be seeing more of him soon. Well, I hope.

Now second, my niche.

I started this blog without much of a niche – more of decided to make an outlet for my random thoughts, rants, and music I’m too chicken to share to my mainstream outlet – the magnificent FB. I was just putting random brain droppings time and again. But very recently, it just dropped on me one late night staring-at -the-ceiling-with-headphones-at full-blast session.

My niche would be to tell stories.

I know it’s another kind of brain droppings, but at least brain droppings you can categorize. Blame it on my control freak streak. But yeah, I have decided to communicate with the world in a new way. This time I’ll use an old friend, “fiction”.

I’ve always loved stories. I learned to read because I was told those boring-looking things called books hold so much of them. I look forward to my father’s bedtime stories as a kid. As a teen, with great reluctance, I wore glasses because I won’t give up this love for stories. The glasses grew thicker with time. Yes, until now.

Maybe it’s the little truths stories always have, even though we call them “fiction“. Many men, women, and children could attest to the great power some of these little truths hold. Still, some of them are also just as what they seem, little.

And yet, it doesn’t make them any less.

I guess I will always love stories. It’s really not something you can stop. It’s part of what makes you you. Or me. Yeah, you get it.

So, logically, I created stories simply because. Like water flows because it is meant to. Like the wind dances and, yes sometimes, destroys. Destiny. Fate. Or simply choice. A choice made with ultimate love.

And like how some people treat their dogs, their dolls, or those things I think come from another planet (they say it’s called cars), I treat these stories as my babies.

There’s only one thing I ask of you. Love them or hate them, but treat these stories with respect. At core, they really meant good. For no story is evil by itself. They are what we, people, make of them. Respect them, and they will pay you back for it.

They always do – or else.

Now for the third and most important part.

Readers, Likers, Commenters, Haters, Followers, Spammers, and my dear Friends, human or not…

I thank you.

For what? Many, many things. Perhaps for licking mooses, for fighting for kids, for sharing less noticed beautiful works of art, for adding beauty to the world, for being a shcmuck of a clown, and a gazillion other as important reasons.

But most of all, for acknowledging that THIS exists.Of course, you know what I mean.

Until then,

J

*I. Devil’s Child

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O lente, lente currite noctis equi. The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The devil will come, and Faustus must be damned. -Christopher Marlowe (1564 – 1593), The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus The tale was blown from the Far East. It is said that one should be careful not to stray …

100 Words to Say What 4 Words Can

This is a happy post. AND I am a red elephant.

“We people always have a tendency to loathe what we understand little about or not at all. Some extremely more than others – a thing I always think makes a person rather inferior to one that is otherwise. A stubborn refusal to acknowledge what’s happening before one’s eyes is plainly RIDICULOUS. On a closer look, with a pinch of not-so-common sense, me’s realized the bigger picture says the world needs these people for balance. It’s always been about balance. However, that doesn’t stop me from avoiding these people. Maybe within I’m self-righteous and narrow-minded, too. Why not? All people are hypocrites.”

-Red Elephant, The

Image Sources here.

I Therefore Conclude…

That I am not an intellectual. An intellectual is someone who loves to learn, tries to learn, and actually learns a lot. I got 2 out of 3. I just never seem to learn a LOT – if not any less than I do 15 years ago.

15 years ago I learned…

*To do unto others only what I want others do unto me.

(Now I do, did, probably will still do unto others what I’d offer my savings account, mini library, and promise to make a twitter account for them not to ever do the same to me. And vice versa.)

*To listen when a person speaks in front.

(So when a blabbering buffoon is on your side and trying to get as close without resorting to sticking a pole inside any orifice, um, you are excused, right?)

*To eat only nutritious foods. And only when you’re hungry.

(A lesson I have happily un-learned! Unless you don’t count eating a large chunk of chocolate when you’ve just had dinner against it.)

*To respect the elderly.

(With all due honesty, I have tried to uphold this for as long as I can remember. But there are tempting times Satan prepared himself  by hiding in the guise of a septuagenarian lady, making me want to grab her cane and use it to whack Satan out of that innocent body.)

Aww…that face!

*To say sorry when you hurt someone.

(But after a decade and a half, I have de-evolved from a human into a chicken for I find myself too much of a coward to utter even this two-syllabic word without the aid of dagger looks and a terribly messy situation.)

*To not speak nor go with strangers.

(I blame the one who said “strangers are merely friends you have yet to meet”. I wonder if that person ever had the reward of meeting and having a little chat with Mr. H. Lecter.)

Tell me you’re not tempted to run when you look behind and see this face 2 inches from yours.

*To mean what you say and say what you mean.

(This time I blame the books written in the style of beautiful, subtle sarcasm. And politics, of course.)

*To never tell lies.

(Ha! Now who would I blame? You? You? Or you?)

Fifteen years is quite enough time to have forgotten all these lessons. I am certain I learned a whole lot more back then. But due to lack of practice/application of these lessons poor memory, I only have these eight to share.

Let me make it clear that I am not saying the older you get, the dumber you’ll become. Fact is that there’s a turning point somewhere in the age line (they say it’s different for everyone…I do wonder who “they” is/are) when Fate itself drives you toward the long lost fountain of wisdom.

But until you reach that point, you have no right to say you are wiser than a 5 year old.

This kid knows it all. He does. Oh come on, he really does!

Any lessons to share?

Images courtesy of Google Images

Featuring: ‘Lifting You Up’ by Lick The Stranger

Watch it on Youtube:  Lifting You Up

Or you can check out their website: http://lickthestranger.wordpress.com/

Enjoy, because I did!

Fib # 2: Little Kid, Little Bread (and other little things)

Don’t we all adore kids?

I know I do. Well I do, before they morph into their real forms – noisy, needy, fidgety monsters. But until then, I have no qualms in showering them with hugs, kisses, and errands. Every kid knows that his goal in life is to run errands until he grows a beard/develops milk reservoirs (for girls, idiot), but until then he has to run errands like a slave or he will end up in hell alone with a clown with lips Angelina Jolie would spend her millions to copy. As generous as I am, I give them a whole lot of errands to fulfill.

What poor judgment.

See, this is what happened:

I told the kid to buy some bread,

Not anything he can’t handle

Just few of those little things

To appease my stomach’s rumble

I expected lots of change

And I did get a lot

A lot of loaves, one dozen loaves,

And change? No there was not.

 

So I yelled at him

“You stupid shit! That was my last money!”

I didn’t notice those big round eyes

They might have cried, “Mommy!”

Cos angry I was and blind to his fear

I didn’t see it clear

Only later that time I saw

His face was drenched with tears

 

“What have I done?”

That’s all I can say

Too late I thought it was

For me to take the horrors away

I, too, experienced in the past

I left his skin so dark and blue

That child I barely knew

And all ‘cos there was too many bread

That poor, little child now lies dead.

 

 Okay, so maybe that’s not what really happened in MY case. You can stop dialing 911, you know? And you can stop giving me those dagger looks, or I might be the one ending up dead.

But stuff like that, and very similar ones, happen to REAL children each day. They are very easy targets for abuse. Especially for those who couldn’t resist showcasing their made up superiority and the need to bully someone. For all I know, you could be a victim (or may God forbid, an abuser) yourself.

This is NOT normal. Just because it is widespread does NOT mean it is normal. Just because some kids gain consciousness already working their fragile bodies off does NOT mean it is normal. It is an abhorrence. Children should be nurtured. Protected. Loved.

And I have been angry with myself because I was not doing anything about it.

Until I realized that even the “little things” count.

Image credits here.