Void.

Nothing to write. I’m empty right now.

Vanity

 Everytime I step out of the shower I find myself fixed on my body’s reflection in the mirror. Examining the curves and bulges of my body for longer than I should. When I become transfixed on my muscular points and the circulatory system it often cuts into my time as I become distracted.  I thought this kind of vanity would never affect me. This must be what they call teenage male self-infatuation.

 Personally it’s caused by my thinning body. When I was younger I was quite the little porker. Over the last few years my body has thinned considerably. For me it’s quite relieving to be able to see myself as attractive. As I look at my limbs I’m reminded of one particular thing I have read a few times. Leonardo da Vinci said in the perfect human form arm span will roughly equal height (His example was the quite famous Vitruvian Man). I can’t help but obsess on the notably bulges on my arms and abdomen. Not only that, I also I find myself intrigued by the perfect proportions of my shape.  Consequently though I also find myself fussing over the less than perfect aspects. When you find the perfection in your body you also find the flaws. My feet are too small, my skin isn’t too good, my ears are asymmentrical, things like these become glaringly apparent.

 I must wonder though, where do these feelings come from? Perhaps it’s a survival instinct. An unwarranted feeling of self-worth made to view ourselves as better than others. This way we can be driven to continue our existence, therefore continuing the species. It’s nothing new for teenagers to think they’re special, maybe it stems from the same feeling of self-worth. All this in turn contributing to that pubescent male self-infatuation.

 Of course this is all theoretical, I have no evidence to back any of this up. It would be arrogant of me to consider this as a fact.

 I need to be careful not to do as Narcissus, or, alternatively, read too much into my flaws.

 Meh.

Waypoints

 At present I am finding myself deeply troubled by several inner issues and a few exterior ones aswell. While I won’t explain the particular sitaution to the public I have deemed the following emotions to be blog-worthy. Hence the reason this particular post exists.

 Inside myself I am overflowing with regret. Regret of what I have done, regret of what my actions have directly and indirectly affected, regret for my continued betrayal to my true self, and regret of what I’ve made another go through.

 Initally this may sound tragically dramatic but I certainly do not entirely blame myself, nor am I wallowing in nothing but woe or self-pity. Indeed these feelings are true but I am not in the slums of sorrow yet. This is one fragment to the mosaic of my “soul”.

 My own selfish nature pushed me to take from the Universe. As they often do when one takes from the Universe, I have been treated accordingly. As if it were my divine punishment, my greedy ways have imploded and left me with nothing. My selfish actions are one thing I regret.

 Not only has it recoiled on myself so to has it lashed out at others. I ruined two peoples happiness for, in the end, nothing to show for it. But surely it’s deserving. If not for that then surely another sin.

 This is a sin to myself. Often is my preception at the height of clairvoyance but time and time again I shoo away the ugly facts to pursue a childish unattainable. In the end all get is pain because of my foolish denials. I should have been able to see this coming…

 Even worse is how I’ve acted! With disregard of who I am inside and what I’m screaming to say, I fumbled around idiotically with my feelings. I fear the true me was not seen or heard. How I could act in such a manner is beyond me. These fateful decsions are what I regret.

 Yet still these will never be more than regrets. An unchangable, a certainty. No matter how much I wish to I can never force the definite hand of time. That which is written shall always remain so in the sands of time. I find myself alone. I find myself confused. As someone recently quoted to me “When a man truly doesn’t know what to do he will either laugh or cry”.

 I don’t doubt I’ll find myself doing both.

 

(This blog was written under the influence of cannabis.)

Neutron Star

 Today I’ve decided to take a not-so-abnormal break from our not-so-regular programming. What is this revolutionary breakthrough in my blog reading experience, you might ask? Well Jacob, it’s really quite simple. Today’s blog will consist of not one but two fabulous parts. You may be thinking to yourself “O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! But how can he possibly manage?!”

 In response there’s a short answer and a long answer. In short, the answer is… I felt like it. The long answer is more around the lines of not having anything to do. I’ve been putting off my dream logging and it’s about time I got back to it. Aswell as that I also have a little something I feel like writing down. We’ll get back to that towards the end. With all this incessant chatter of mine I’ve just as well made this a three parter.

 

 And now for the feature presentation.

 Where was I this time? My dreams had plucked me from reality and neatly rested me in an unfamiliar world once again. A bed. I was lying in a bed tossing restlessly when I opened my eyes only to view upon the peculiarities of an unseen world. As much as I wished to enter my fitful sleep in that lumpy mattress something within kept tugging me forward. It was as if someone had tied fishing wire around my heart. It seemed to pass through the rest of my body effortlessly, yet it held a tight grip on my heart. Straining the contractions of my heart I arose from the bed to follow the tug.  The now empty mattress seemed to dislike me as much as I disliked it.

 In the beginning my feet stumbled over themselves, and equally so the floor, as the intruding string pulled me farther. After considerably no time a sense of acceptance washed over me and I seemed to care less where I was going with each passing second, or whatever measurement of time would be used in this new world. The less I fought it the more my surroundings seemed to present themselves. Upon leaving the bedroom from which I had arrived I walked farther down a hallway. Along the hallway was what one would expect. A small table with a potted plant here, a portrait there, and roughly eight doors down the hall including the one I came from.

 What wasn’t to be expected mind you, was the dripping ceiling and impossible symbols on the door. When I looked up at ceiling of this hallway I quickly registered that it was only melting wood. With that my attention quickly shifted to the oddly shaped metal plates on each door. These metallic shapes seemed to be made of bronze or possibly brass. Quickly paced, I walked back to my room and noticed on the door a symbol unlike the others. It seemed more… rational. There was an almost  circular shape, I say almost for right where it would have connected as perfect circle it instead curved off towards the centre and folded over itself three times. Around this shape were twenty spiraling arms, probed outwards to the sides of the door.

 Just as I began to expand my mind around this unorthodox metalwork a tiny voice chimed through my body saying to me “Don’t worry about it so much.” The voice addressed me with a name I instantly associated with myself, yet could not and still cannot describe outside of my own mind. I pondered this for only a moment and decided it would be best listen to this unknown voice. Afterall, who am I to make these choices in a world I know so little about. Perhaps if the source of the voice had come to my world I would be better suited for giving advice. Although this was clearly not the case.

As I walked down this hall for the second time I noticed the lack of the yanking presence. It seems I was on my own now. I approached a stairwell and with a haste conceived out of curiosity I bounded in my descent. On the base floor was a concrete room with a door parallel to the stairs. Without a change in pace I opened the door and walked forward. I stood on a cobbled street enclosed entirely by old buildings of a unique architecture. Each building rose to a minimum of four stories, with pillars supporting the upper levels that hung over the street. Instead of the rooves forming the standard triangular shape they happened to be defiantly shaped in V’s. It made every building seem quite malevolent with it’s floors looming over the street and horn-like rooves.

 Absentmindedly I walked down these streets, waiting for something of interest to happen. Immediately I stopped on the spot when I noticed that: A) I was all alone, and B) this world wasn’t as mysterious as I had thought at first. I had been here before. Of course! It was obvious, once I looked up I noticed an unnerving lack of sky. There was no sun, no moon,  no stars, no heavenly bodies of any kind. As much I strained to see something, anything, it all ended in vain. This was the same empty sky I had seen in nearly every other dream.

 With this new realization it moved me to continue forward, although the reasoning is beyond me. At a fork in the cobbled road I took a right towards a swarm of people and before I had a chance to look back everything changed. As it did I could feel a power on par with an atomic bomb. The sensation was that of reality falling apart. I remember a blinding iridescence just prior to the crumbling of this particular reality.

 Far flung from those cobbled streets I was now bearing witness to some regent lord announcing the impending destruction of… wherever I was. He stood atop a stage made not of wood but some hard black material. With a good look around I discerned that it was what composed most of this place. The buildings were just as black. Unlike the previous apartments, shops, and businesses these buildings were entirely straight with coned rooves. I almost lost myself like the muddled lighting in the blackness of the stone. Were it not for the bickerings of nearby peons, still in a tizzy over the current affair I probably wouldn’t have continued. These people were in a flurry, bombarding the man of power with unanswerable questions. I blinked once, twice, and a third time for safe measure. Spinning on the heel of my foot I turned around and began to ascend some nearby stairs with my hands in my pockets. It was a massive set of stone stairs hard like granite, maybe marble. Towards the bottom they stretched out to both sides, highlighted by a pedestal on either side. Adorned with stone spheres held aloft by twisting serpents adding a touch of blatant regality. Casually I continued along the pompous stairs upwards to an extreme source of illumination.

 Despite the stinging in my eyes from such a sudden shift in lighting I ascended without pause. My final step was marked by a heavy gust of fresh, crisp air. As I raised my head slightly I looked out towards the distance. For once there were no walls or ceilings. The sight was so astounding countless thoughts raced through my head. My feet shuffled slightly and I turned my vision towards the left and right. Trailing off into the distance, or perhaps bending around a corner, I stood atop some massive black building. 

 On it’s face it bore no windows, and no doors aside from the entry way the staircase had presented me. Here the wind began to howl, blowing at me on one direction, then without cause it would pickup from a different location.  My body began to drift away from myself, it spun around and twisted upwards. This black city hidden from the light was rested next to a canyon, beyond that was vast red desert. Beyond that still was a sparkling ocean. “It looks like you’ve found it” whispered the innocent voice. Found what, I puzzled to myself.

 It struck me as very surreal that all of this would be within my view until my eyes began to track the horizon, or as I soon discovered, lack of one. The landscape sloped upwards and continued still above me. It was like a planet on the inside of a sphere. Directly above me rested a tiny neutron star in the centre of all things. Something about it’s position led me to concede that it was the power of this planet.

 Like a snap I found myself back on the lengthy black city in the red desert. Deeply I exhaled the crisp air and turned for the second time on my heel, down the stairs from whence I had come. At the base of the stairs remained the squawking citizens and clueless regent. Still in a huff over the news so recently presented to the public by this oaf. Without uttering a word I climbed on top of the obsidian stage and stood infront of the masses. The stuttering official stumbled backwards with wide-eyes as he saw me. Odd.

 Just as I was in the process of addressing these residents a rush of knowledge streamed into my mind from some unseen location. It felt absurd that I had missed it before. Although I could not and can not say what I realized, something too complex to be described with words. I raised my arms, locked my fingers, and placed my hands on my head. Feeling especially relaxed I leaned back, relaxing my posture. Briefly I closed my eyes and opened my mouth to speak. As my mouth opened I couldn’t help an escaping chuckle. I cleared my throat and bellowed out to the citizens.

 ”It is I, I am your woe, your despair, your destruction. I am the conduit of your doom. The hand from which it shall unfold. Lay down your arms and huddle amongst your loved ones. This is inevitable.”

 Terror gripped the populace as they ran as fast as their panicked legs would take them. Skittering away in all directions, like roaches, they disgusted me. I extended my arm out toward my side, holding it as rigid and straight as a dagger. Directly following this movement the buildings that were unluckily being motioned towards imploded. With my left hand I held it forward and felt a pulse of energy building within the muscle. My fingers began to contort and with a sharp twist of my wrist I upturned my palm as my fingers curled inwards, forming a fist. Squeezing my clenched hand I felt a disturbing crunch. This held a devastating effect on the buildings down the road. They began to crumple under the invisible force I was projecting.

Unheeded and unstoppable I began to cackle with a laughter that takes rise only from ultimate power. My eyes darted around savoring the destruction which I had let unfold. Delicately I licked my lips, almost tasting the mayhem. Dramatically I leaned my head back and stretched my arms outwards. An instant rush of power filled me to the brim, it came from all around me with my body acting as funnel for these forces. With hair of a mad man and wild eyes I clapped my hands together leaving everything to destruction in one mighty blast. For the last time the chiming voice spoke with me again. “This is what they were waiting for, this is the path you chose.” Again I was addressed with the name that is impossible to describe.

Here was the conclusion to my dream as I rolled out of bed, and the conclusion to this particular segment.

 

Now as promised, to conclude you blog reading experience is the aforementioned portion.  Here is…

 a tiny poem composed out of boredom.

 

One for the brain which speaks with the body.

Two for the eyes which tell us what is shoddy.

Three for the heart which drives us forward.

Four for the mouth which swallows things downward.

Five for the hands which let us hold our love.

Six for ourselves which descend from above.

 

 Hmm.

 Alright then.

Let’s see…

A baby girl is mysteriously dropped off at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945. “Jane” grows up lonely and dejected, not knowing who her parents are until one day in 1963 she is strangely attracted to a drifter. She falls in love with him. But just when things are finally looking up for Jane a series of disasters strike. First, is impregnated by the drifter who then disappears. Second during the complicated delivery, doctors find that Jane has both sets of sexual organs, and to save her life, they are forced to convert “her” to “him”. Finally, a mysterious stranger kidnaps her baby from the delivery room. Reeling from these disasters, rejected by society, scorned by fate, “he” becomes a drunkard and a drifter. Not only has Jane lost his parents and his lover, but his only child as well. Years later, in 1970, he stumbles into a lonely bar called Pop’s Place, and spills out his pathetic story to an elderly bartender. The sympathetic bartender gives the drifter a chance to avenge  his child and have revenge on the stranger who left him pregnant and abandoned, on the condition that he joins the “time travel corps.” Both of them enter a time machine and the bartender drops off the drifter in 1963. The drifter is strangely attracted to a young orphan women who subsiquently impregnates her with his seed. The bartender then goes forward 9 months, kidnaps the baby girl from the hospital, and drops off the baby in an orphanage in 1945. Then the bartender drops off the thoroughly confused drifter in 1985 to enlist in the “time travel corps.” The drifter eventually gets his life together, becomes a respected and elderly member of the “time travel corps”, then disguises himself as a bartender and has his most difficult mission: a date with destiny, meeting a certain drifter at Pop’s Place in 1970.

Tremors

The same phrase keeps playing again and again.

“Abandon hope all ye men of mortal coils…”

Fitting for the events that recently transgressed. Here beneath me on solid foundations the ground trembles. It trembles with fear not different from my own, it knows what’s to come. What do I not know? There are so many things I don’t know. Should I, could I dare to tred beyond the membrane of our bliss? To it’s very core the power of the existence beats forth. It’s there. Beneath it, below it, inside it. It’s there. Does salvation exist to be found below? Above? Beyond? No… no, not for me. For us? No, no, no that’s not right either…

 Our bindings, our restrictions, more importantly my own, are breaking. Cracking, stressed from the existence of… it all. It came, suddenly, before the Sun had began to break the dark. To my very soul this incessant vibration penetrated. Everything was overrun by this presence. Frozen from abject terror my eyes hurried around wildy. I couldn’t move. For the first time in my life I was afraid. True unbridled horror gripped me for the first time in my life. Pure loneliness had lowered it’s gaping maw around me. Scream! That’s what I wanted, that’s what I needed to do! Over and over I tried but everytime it would become choked up in my throat.

 Yet, when I thought my mind would shatter from this rhythmic pounding the tendrils of this… tremor released their grip on me. I reveled in my new-found freedom. I relished it as a blind man would sight. Now was my chance. My insubstantial legs gave way, I collapsed to my knees and screamed. Oh how I screamed, for relief, for companionship, for acceptance.

 What was I doing? Surely I had more courage than this. With spite I scolded myself for being so weak. My soul had been rattled. What time was it? I had no perception on how prolonged that agony was. Like a bolt I darted through my house on the balls of my feet with the fleetness of a savannah animal. How I maintained control at those speeds I can’t recall but the acquisition of this information was vital. Mockingly the bedside clock flashed, once, twice, three times. It didn’t register.

How could that be feasible?!

It read only two minutes after four in the morning… that can’t be right, I said aloud to the indifferent, uncaring walls. It had to have been hours, the terror, that loneliness, it couldn’t be viable for those feelings to have stricken me over a few minutes.

Even now these residual thoughts remain. I’d like to think I’m writing this for my own comfort but I’m sure it’s doing the opposite. My heart is still pounding, it could rip from my chest at any moment. There’s something I can almost fathom. What do I know?! There’s this feeling of knowledge within me. It’s inacessabilty proves to be vexxing beyond words. Every muscle and organ in my body seems to share the very same sentiment. Rigid like rocks, my limbs feels heavy. Boiling is the blood in my veins. Churning is the ocean of acid in my gut. It hates me. My body hates me, It wants me to die. That can’t happen! I do not lose, least of all to this opponent! I will not lose!

That’s it! Remove the heart, damage the system. That’s what I’ll do… I must win this. Which of my knives is the sharpest, I wonder…

Dragon Riding

 Last night I had the pleasure of embarking on another in-depth dream.  I found myself in a new world with Orcs, Dwarves, Goblins, Undead, Elves and of course, Humans. For whatever reason I had been absent for 10 years time. I returned to find my Dragon had grown exponentially.

 Apparently in this world I was a Dragon rider. I was a part of an alliance to fight the evils of this world. It was almost identical to the Eragon books. The sun had barely risen and I found myself obligated to report to the war-room at our alliances camp. I opened the flap to the Elven tent and sat down across from the respective race’s leaders.

 Layed out infront of me was a map covered in little pieces that undoubtedly represented soliders to be sent to battle. Each of the leaders took turns discussing how best to lay siege to the city of “evil”. For awhile I examine the map, tuning out what the leaders are saying. I looked at the map of the city of evil and the surrounding landscape. Our enemies fortress seemed to have three gates. One main gate with two smaller ones on either side. I propose they send our main forces directly to the front gates with the Dwarves and Elves guarding the flanks of our army. If the enemy decides to give up on attacking our flanks the smaller squadrons will join the main forces and push through the city.

 We come to agreement that this will be the best tactic. I smile at the female Elf general and take my leave. Outside is my other half waiting for me. I felt a burst of joy spring up in me at merely seeing her. Immediatley I knew her name, Sezeki. Sezeki was resting with her head on her front haunches. One giant eyelid slowly opens with pupils like slits. She notices me and her eyes widen. With a bellowing roar she reared her head up and I ran directly to her.

 She was a stunning emerald colour and towered over me. Sezeki was absolutely massive. On all four of her powerful legs she was atleast fifty feet tall. When her head was raised she was even more impressive. Coming to atleast seventy feet. I didn’t even dare imagine how long she would be from tip to tail.

 With an air of compassion she lowered her head to the ground. I took the invitation and began to scale the massive beast. When I got up on her neck I started to scratch below her scales. The soliders at the camp jumped as a growl gurgled up her throat.

 The general launched the attack and I was handed a massive harness. Although it seemed more like a seat with massive straps on it. Once she was rigged up Sezeki took flight. The armies below began to march. Every stroke of her muscular wings pushed herself forward with incredible force.

 In almost no time at all we arrived at the city of evil. It had four sections to it. One containing the Orcs, one containing the goblins, and the third containing the undead. While the fourth one held the throne room of a faceless leader. Sezeki’s wings pounded above the city as our alliances army forced their way in. Sezeki and I flew down towards the city and with a one mighty breath she blew forth a blue flame that incinerated everything. It was almost like our army wasn’t even needed. As a team we decimated everything. I remember being knocked off her and landing hard on my back.

 I jumped quickly to my feet and began to slaughtered everything that dared get close to me with my long sword. At my side I could feel the heat as Sezeki hew a path towards me. I scaled her massive haunch and we took off again. Soon their armies had been utterly dispatched.

 To the north was the citadel of the city. I began to form a thought on the matter and I found myself staring up at my ceiling. Quite a shame, I thought. It could have been interesting. A climactic battle between myself and some malevolent evil master…

 

(I feel like my dream is ripping off Eragon a little too much.)

A new chapter… kinda

 It’s been awhile since I’ve last had something to type about. In part due to a bout of writer’s cramp but more than anything it should attributed to a lack of interest. I’m not going to pretend there are many people reading this so it’s struck me as redundant to continue blogging. From here on out I’ll be using this as a catalog of ideas, thoughts, and dreams. This way I’m sure I’ll find it much more productive and in turn I should be writing more frequently. Hopefully.

What better way to get the ball rolling then to record one of my latest dreams?

 In last night’s most vivid dream I recall being on a dark street, an alley maybe, and for some reason I was with my Grandmother. We walked into a store filled with antiques and old books. I couldn’t discern what kind of store it was but they sold alot of different things. The lighting was such that it exuded a musty ambience. Upon entering the store there were rows and rows of shelves that almost formed a labyrinth into the back of the shop. I never felt any interest to continue down any the of rows of antiques, books, and various knick-knacks. Rather I was more concerned with what was on my right. My Grandmother followed close behind me as I walked forward, I looked down and noticed about a foot high step down. In this little section of the shop was the till with a gray-haired man smiling beamishly behind the counter.

 It wasn’t untill I took a step down that I noticed just how crowded the store was. Almost as if there were people all around me, despite my Grandmother and I being the only ones there (excluding the old man at the register). Centered infront of the cashier’s desk was a display with various video games in rectangular, cardboard boxes. Among them was Oblivion, Fable II, and many others I can’t remember.

 This particular nook in the old man’s shop had shelves just like the others in the store. They reached the ceiling just as the others did only these shelves were considerably thinner and placed against a wall. Whereas the others were freestanding and almost seemed to form they’re own walls. Occupying the shelves in the shop’s nook was countless anime figures, DVDs, manga volumes, and the like. Some of the shelves had glass doors protecting the goods held within, although I couldn’t find any rhyme or reason to the placement of the glass doors.

 At the time I didn’t pay much attention to the shelves and focused instead on the display stand. I looked about it for a few minutes and decided on a game I wished to buy. I then departed with my Grandmother only to flash forward to the next day.

 For some reason we had returned to the quirky shop on the dark alley but this time it felt considerably more familiar. Only this time I had a better idea as to what I was interested in. I proceeded directly to the old man’s nook, once again disregarding the remainder of the store. Upon looking at the shelves I found this time they all had glass doors on them, much to my confusion. Two items immediately caught my attention.

 The first being an Evangelion Unit-01 model kit. It included the paint, the brushes, the glue, and of course all of the pieces. All for the suprisingly low price of $4.95. The second object of my attention was another Evangelion Unit-o1 model kit, this one with slightly different coloured paints and a slightly different structure for only $3.95. I debated for what felt like too long and eventually decided on the second model kit. Something about it felt… cooler.

 We purchased the kit and I left with my Grandmother. After that my dream begins to deteriorate into an incomprehensible slur of emotions, images, and actions. None of which add up and would be pointless to write down.

 After writing all of this out, even 12 hours after the fact, I feel very good. It’s like I have a better understanding of… well I’m not quite sure. It’s also triggered the memory of quite a few other dreams I’ve had months ago. This is very curious, I should make sure to record my dreams more often from now on.

 I must observe this phenomenon.

Reported

It has been reported that some victims of torture, during the act, would retreat into a fantasy world from which they could not wake up. In this catatonic state, the victim lived in a world just like their normal one, except they weren’t being tortured. The only way that they realized they needed to wake up was a note they found in their fantasy world. It would tell them about their condition, and tell them to wake up. Even then, it would often take months until they were ready to discard their fantasy world and please wake up.

Books On Tape

 When I was young my mom would buy me books on tape for me to listen to on a crappy red radio-casette player I got from a dead great grandma or someshit.

 None of the series I listened to did I love as much as Sherlock Holmes. Tales of smuggling diamonds worth fortunes through a python, tracking down kidnappers, and hell, even the more mundane cases were interesting. I always idolized Sherlock Holmes, he was like my Batman.

 My Father was sent to prison for murder when I was six and there he’ll spend the rest of his life. Holmes was more of a father-figure then my real dad was.

 I like to tell myself I was apathetic to the whole thing, I like to believe I was above being emotional about  it, but I don’t think it was. Which is probably why I lashed out violently.

 I’ve gotten older and everyday I see more of this ridiculous world and the bullshit that litters it, I’ve realized something.

 I’m starting to sound more like Moriarty than Holmes.