The Melody (Deliverance by Music)

An ostensibly disturbed man enters a coffee shop, mp3 player in hand, browsing for a song to listen to while he plans to finish his past overdue doctoral dissertation. Suddenly a look of bewilderment replaces his troubled facial expression. There was a song on his player that he could not remember uploading. The song was titled “the Unfolding” and the artist was “Unknown”. Curious about the contents of this mysterious song that apparently came out of nowhere the man takes a seat and begins to play the song. He grimaces as the song begins and then eventually his expression relaxes to a subtle smile.Moments later, earphones in his ears, swaying to what seems to be some groovy song. He stares into the eyes of some woman sitting across from him. At no moment does his facial expression show any sign of thinking. In fact he stares at her as if he were just contemplating her like one would appreciate a beautiful piece of art. But somehow there is more to this stare. There is some type of energy that emanates from the kind of attention he gives her. She had been struggling with issues that had weighed on her mind for a while but suddenly her thought process was interrupted. She noticed the man’s stare, felt a brief moment of absolute stillness, a feeling of curiosity, and then awe. His gentle stare intrigued her. What is it about this guy, she thought? “He isn’t particularly handsome. He isn’t even my type. But somehow I feel this strong attraction to him” Then he smiles at her. A warm rush of pleasure permeates her body. The type of feeling one gets when genuinely happy about something. “Hi” she says with a hint of shyness immediately following her greeting. He takes one ear piece out of his right ear and responds with a friendly “hey”. “What are you listening to?” she asks. He smiles again then stands up, slowly walks towards her and says “Do you want to hear it?” “Sure” she responds. He hands over his earphones to her and she gently squeezes them into her ears. At first the music sounds like a strange cacophony, it is chaotic, almost unbearably so, yet she could not bring herself to remove the earphones. Her curiosity about this song was oddly intense. Gradually the music begins to build structure and almost suddenly an enjoyable rush of warmth takes over her mind and body as the music turns into a harmonious flow of auditory ambrosia. She finds herself swaying to the beat without realizing it at first. Then she fully realizes it. Her body is doing the subtle dancing on its own. As the body has been distracted by the music she can now feel the essence that is herself. It feels like a void filled with pure energy. An impulse gently overtakes her and she begins to feel as if something needed to happen, as if there is something she needs to do. What is it? The energy in her wants out, she can feel its pressure. Suddenly she understands. She intuitively knows! She takes a moment to experience the stillness within her as her body gently moves to the sound. Then she turns slightly to her left and gently stares at an older woman sitting at a table adjacent to her. The old lady glances back at her with an odd stare. Her facial expression is initially a bland and cold one but gradually turns into calm, then curiosity and then into awe.

A.N

The Ultimate object of worship

Eurika! Yes I feel like i have discovered a truth that has remained hidden for most of mankind's existance so as to slow down its evolution to the next phase. The phase where we find the ultimate object of worship. Yes I speak of the hamster!I began my experiments with hamsters a few years ago. These creatures have always been beleived to be devoid of the mental processes we commonly call thoughts. But how far off were we? Our focus on solely human psychology has bought us to ignore a psychology far more revealing, complex and interesting than our own; the psychology of the hamster. Using new technology that was initially developed to monitor human brain activity as well as brain waves, I found that using the same technology on hamster's brain allowed for more detailed observations of its functioning. I was able to notice and record minute flunctuations of brain activity that i then translated into data for our computer to analyse. First i began to give orders to the hamster such as "tell me the meaning of life, right now!" or " Why are you guys so damn quiet? what the hell is wrong with you" The asnwers i received after translating the waves to data and the data to language were powerful and informative. But I am not free to discuss them at the moment. However i did record a conversation between me and the hamster and it goes as follows.Me (you know... the psychologist): Who are you?Hamster: Uh a hamster?Me: Dont play smart! What kind of entity are you to be trapped in a hamster's bodyHamster: Helloooo all of us hamsters think and communicate, you humans are just too stupid to notice.Me: I'm not stupid i'm a psychologist! and anyway if you are so smart why do you let us capture you and subject you to a life of running on treadmills?Hamster. Stupid humans, the experiment is on you. We are amused by your interest in mundane things such as a hamster running on a treadmill. We secretely mock the your thoughts which by the way we can read. We know we are not really the body of this hamster so we just play the game when you are around, Just when "abused" we fake the outward signs of pain because otherwise you would see that we dont really feel pain unless we want to and most of our time is spent thinking up solutions to human problems so that we can subliminally transmit them to some idiot who thinks he is discovering thinga.Me: This is impossible how have we ignored this for centuriesHamster: Dude i dont know... We always talk about how stupid you guys are. If we were treated right maybe we would generate more useful thoughts to your progress and hence push your consciousness to the next level.Me: I undesrtand now, hamster. I will endeavor to make known what hitherto we humans were absolutely oblivious to. The greatness and the worship worthiness of the hamster.To be continued....

Blog

January 4th 2012.

Oftentimes will a certain event come into existence. One may find oneself in a situation where one is faced with a dilemma of the mind that seems unintelligible. It is a condition that cannot be explained in a simple manner. Yet I will try, notwithstanding that I feel that I may lose a good majority of my readers due to its abstruse content.
It begins with a hunch, a sort of certainty that, in fact, the world is not what it seems; that reality is nothing but an interpretation of what really is; a certainty that the laws of nature can be bended and even altered; a positive feeling that somehow you are part of an extraordinary plan and that your role to play in it is unique and wonderful.… Well it may be necessary at this point that I spare you any further blurriness of the content of this discourse. In order for this attempt for clarification to be possible however I must indulge myself in starting over with the explanation of the phenomena of which this letter is subject.
I am lifting objects with my mind. It began with an impetus, a stimulus. I began to feel the actual need to move something. And though I had no prior knowledge about how I was to perform this feat, a strong sense of confidence and willpower began to flood my mind. Intuition had shown itself reliable to me for a long while. So I decided to listen to the feeling that seemed to be screaming “Move the pencil!” and then shedding all doubt of my ability to mentally move pencil, I began to do so. The experience was powerful. I began to feel at awe at the force that was working through me to enable such an exploit. I had become the pencil but I was also still myself. And at a moment I began to experience being everything. The pencil, the table it was on, my entire room, and then eventually I felt as I was at one with the world. I was the world.

Mutations?

I didn’t always look this way. Actually I used to be described as attractive. Today I’d give anything to just look, well… normal. How did I come to be this way? Well that’s one long and complicated story.
In 2012 I was part of a team of 7 astronauts sent on a unprecedented privately-funded mission, by multibillionaire Kenneth Brussels, to search previously unexplored areas of the moon for alien life forms.
To Mr. Brussels it was merely an investment. If we were to find an extraterrestrial being he planned on creating some kind of zoo where he would charge people to observe. To the seven of us it was an opportunity to find the very reason we pursued our career as astronauts, our childhood dream of someday discovering a different life form.
We came back that same year after months of searching and believed the whole enterprise was a failure. Until a few weeks after our return, something happen. One by one all seven of us began experiencing bizarre symptoms, such as foreign growths and mutations all over our bodies. We must have found an alien after all, or maybe it found us. It seemed to be some type of pathogenic bacteria that was continually altering our bodies. It could not a communicable disease because we had already spent at least 2 month on earth... (hmmm... i dont know where this is going)

(To be determined)

"January 5th, 1925. That was the day I was born."

Marilyn pulled back the curtains of her nursing home window and looked out over the parking lot. "I live at 211 Townline Road in Barry, Oklahoma."

"Not anymore you don't," barked the old woman at the other side of the room. "Get used to it."

Marilyn looked at the woman, at the orderly attempting to quiet her and then back out the window. "I could have sworn I was still on Townline Road," she muttered to herself.

Always, it had seemed, Marilyn was in a place she hardly knew. First it was Wichita, where she and her husband had moved just after he had married her, at all of seventeen. Then Great Forks, out on the vast North Dakota plains with enough space for her husband to roam, selling insurance door to door. Finally she had settled in St. Louis to live with her son after she was widowed. Within a year she was in a nursing home, and less than a year after that her son had moved to Chicago. Always, it seemed, Marilyn was following others around and being left behind.
81 years old and I’ve never taken initiative, never taken the reins of my own life. I need to find a way to get out of here and be somewhere of my choosing for a change!
She didn’t know where she wanted to go or how she was going to survive there, but she was sure of one thing; she wasn’t going to live her last years in this nursery.
As soon as the orderly left the room Marilyn whispered to Margaret, the old lady across room.

“I’m getting out of here soon… just you watch!”

“Oh Marilyn… Don’t be silly. Where are you going to go? Who is going to take care of you? You think you can survive out there? You can barely walk!”

“Well… I have a plan, mind you. You think I don’t know my chances? Well I do, and… and I’m willing to take them, as small as they may be.”

“That’s just your medications talking. We are both stuck here and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better it will be for you, darling”

“Fine, don’t take me seriously. But when you wake up tomorrow and I am no longer in this room, then you will believe me.”

“Oh so you think you are leaving this place tonight!?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do and I will.”

“And how are you planning to do that, if you don’t mind me asking? There are nurses and security guards everywhere and even if there weren’t you wouldn’t be…”

“Shhhh…!” Marilyn interrupted, “the orderly is back, please be discrete about this” she squeezed in hastily as the orderly was entering the room

Susan, the orderly, stepped in with a pen, a small notebook and one clean pillow which she promptly laid under Marilyn head.

“Here is the extra pillow you wanted Marilyn, I’ll put the pen and paper you requested earlier on the night table for you” she said. “May I ask what you are writing?” she added with a tone of interest

“Just thought I would start a diary to pass time with every now and then” Marilyn replied sounding ostensibly innocent.

“I hope you’ll have some nice things about me in there” Susan said half jokingly.

“You know I will Susan, you have always been the sweetest young lady to me”

“Well thank you, I’m glad you feel that way”

“Before you leave could you please open the window for me? It gets mighty hot in here and I can’t manage to sleep at night sometimes”

“Hmm… actually I am not allowed to unlock the windows but… I guess I could for my favorite patient” Susan amicably replied. After which, she proceeded to open the windows, turned off the lights, turned on the night light, and wished both patients a goodnight then left the room.

The next morning Margaret stretched out to reach towards her night table for her glasses. “Marilyn, could you pass me my…” she started. But Marilyn was not in her bed. Where could she be? Margaret looked towards the window and it suddenly occurred to her; Marilyn had gone through with her plan to escape the nursing home. “Susan! She yelled out with all the strength her old lungs could manage.
Susan came rushing into the room accompanied by a nurse. “What is wrong Maggy? Are you alright?” the nurse asked. Susan immediately noticed that Marilyn was missing. Soon after, a note laying on the patients bed caught her eye. The note said:

Dear. Susan,

All my life I’ve been walking behind someone else’s shadow, letting them tell me what to do, how to live and where to live. For once in my poor life I want to do something on my own. Today is the day that I do just that. I hope you know that you have always been wonderfully kind to me and I will miss you. Also, I would like you to let Margaret know that I will miss her too and even though she can be a little rough on the edges she is still a lovely person deep inside.
Anyhow, I hope you know that I will be okay on my own. I planned this out very carefully, you know? I wrapped both of my pillows in a sheet and let it drop on the ground outside, see this way it will break my fall when I escape through the window. I even sneaked a few rations of bread and beans from my past three suppers to carry me through half of the week. As you can see I have everything planned out and no one needs to worry about me. By the time you get this letter I will be way down on Townline rd. Give my best to all my friends in St Louis Chateau Nursing.

Sincerely, Marilyn Sanders.

Upon reading the last line of the letter, Susan bolted towards the window and stared down to the streets. On the ground laid Marilyn’s lifeless body. Paradoxically, Marilyn finally did take the reins of her own life.

Once upon a time, there was a story. Actually it may have been a fable, a poem or maybe even a song. But no one would ever know, because it was never written. It only existed as a potentiality. But for the sake of this narrative we will call it a story. Two concerned writers thought deeply about how they could bring about this story, at least in its nascent form. Sadly enough, they never came up with anything… or did they?

Dialogue Game 1

"What are you doing out here on your own, Fiona?"

"I'm waiting for her."

"I told you to wait for me. So... do you think she'll actually come?"

"She said she would. Yesterday she promised me. But now she's late... You know what Claudia says, 'If Mom's late, she's not coming at all.'"

"Well she hasnt been there for us most of our life, why would she show up today? I think we are wasting our time here... i bet if she knew what I brought for her she'd be here though."

french for love

“Any of you guys got a cigarette?”

Aaron heard his voice echo through the room. For a while no one would answer his question or speak for that matter.

He knew what he was doing was wrong. It felt wrong. But what did he have to lose he thought, his life? What was life worth without his wife? Nothing! That is what it was worth before he found her and that is what it would be worth if she were to die. He had to get the 217,000 for Dana’s liver transplant and he decided he would get it by any means necessary, even if it meant robbing the fancy French restaurant on the corner of St Marks and Vanderbilt Ave, even if it meant confronting the police.

“I only have camel lights, is that ok?” a customer finally replied.

“Yeah that’s aight…”

“I’m going to reach into my jacket, that is where it is, ok?”

“Fine, just don’t… no sudden moves, or I will shoot you.”

The customer was a young man probably in his late twenties and the confidence with which he stared at Aaron was intimidating.

It was apparent to Aaron then that the plan was coming undone. A sudden shudder. A shaky hand that relieved the young man of his cigarette. His self-assurance was somehow crumbling now, even after all the nights he'd spent convinced he was vindicated.

Now in the heavy air of the restaurant, he was aware of the aura of desperation surrounding him. Customers crouched on the ground, some trembling, some stoic and each silent. Aaron held the cigarette between his thumb and index finger and watched them. He realized he didn't have a light but something caught in his throat before he could ask for one and he stood with his back against the wall and the cigarette dangling uselessly from his hand.

How did I ever believe that I had solved this?- How did I-

Aaron and Dana lived three blocks up the street. On the weekends after work, they'd often have walked by that same restaurant, watching the patrons eat on a patio or taking in the smells that drifted out. Inevitably, they'd end up back at their own small apartment, eating Chinese take out from greasy boxes.

But Dana liked the restaurant. She thought it was romantic and she'd dream of them eating there together.

"Our next paycheck, Aaron, let's go to Je t'aime."

Why did I always know we would never make it there?-

It occurred to him then, that despite its expensive wine list and the fancy clientelle that patronized it, Je t'aime would not be the answer to either his or Dana's problems that night. And that the cashbox in the back wouldn't have more than five grand in its drawer.