No longer as truthful as should be deserved, some names, places and events deliberately vague to protect identities that aren't mine

Wednesday, 20 April 2016

Bedtime Story

Once upon a time there was a bear, and the bear roamed far and wide in search of food but he was a lonely bear and wished he had someone to roam with and tell all the things he found to.
And one day, this bear stumbled a warm cave, with a light deep inside, and he wandered in and there, in the back of the cave, he found a boy.
The boy was sad and also alone and he didn't speak much, and he didn't seem to like the bear's food much, but he didn't tell the bear to go away either so the bear stayed and sat down next to the boy and didn't say anything for a while.
And when the bear looked around, he noticed tucked away in a small corner were some sticks, and some skates and some gloves, and he asked the boy about them and the boy said they were for a game so the bear asked if the boy would play it with him.
The boy still looked sad, and didn't say anything, but he slowly got up and went over to the pile, and he pulled out some sticks, and gave one to the bear, and he pulled out some skates, and gave a pair to the bear, and he pulled out some gloves and gave a pair of those to the bear too.
The boy and the bear went outside and started to play.  It was a game called hockey.  And as they played the bear started to learn what to do, and he got good at this game called hockey and he liked it a lot.  And as the boy played hockey he started to laugh and smile, and he remembered that hockey was a good thing, and he liked good things.
When they finished they went back into the warm place they had found and sat next to each other and discussed all the things the boy knew about hockey, and the bear liked them and wanted to know more, so the boy decided he would call the bear hockeybear and the bear liked this name.
Sometimes, they go out together, with more sticks and skates and gloves and they find other boys and teach them to play hockey.  Sometimes the other boys aren't interested so the bear and the boy just play by themselves.  Sometimes hockeybear goes out alone and protects the boy from other boys who think hockey is silly.  The bear is much bigger than he looks and much stronger when he fights to protect the boy he found. 
Sometimes the boy goes out alone, and he comes back very sad.  And he doesn't talk again.  And boys eat different things to bears.  But he doesn't tell hockeybear to go away either.  So they sit together and hockeybear watches hockey with the boy, until the boy looks at his sticks, his skates and his gloves again, and then at the bear, and he remembers that hockey is a good thing.  And he likes good things.

Thursday, 7 April 2016

Young, scrappy and hungry

I know my sister like I know my own mind,
you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind. 
If I tell her that I love him she’d be silently resigned,
he’d be mine.
She would say, “I’m fine”
She’d be lying.
But when I fantasize at night
It’s Alexander’s eyes, 
as I romanticize
what might have been if I hadn’t sized him up so quickly. 

Tuesday, 5 April 2016

Somewhere a clock is ticking...

The thought pattern rises in my mind; the one I've been suppressing for weeks; that same one, over again.

I can see the mood forming, taking hold, that crystal clear understanding of the irredeemable stupidity and pointlessness of everyone around me.  Their comments, reactions and inactions predictable to me years ago.

Time slows down, as the laser sharp clarity of probability cones narrows along each and every path.  Time enough to watch the change and see the change in inevitable fate.  Chance becomes irrelevant.  Certainties solidify as each and every line I care to examine eliminates alternative options over and over to the nth to degree till each point is obvious.

A portion of my conscious brain slaves itself to my subconscious thought, mildly amused for a brief period to watch the events of each timeline i choose to observe play out exactly as my analytical mind has already deduced.  It's a passing distraction at best but it's enough conscious attention to assuage my subconscious that I am devoting energies to it.


I split my attention more, each into it's own compartment; a part to tomorrow's work problem; a part to the future; several parts to several different types of solutions, none of which anyone else would condone; each a ward against my subconscious and conscious thoughts fully aligning

I refresh the window into the world I allow myself and try not to laugh.

The self delusional addict, burning up once more.
The lost trying to save everyone around them as they fall
The martyrs screaming to their gods (the little gods and the big gods)
Adverts, more things for a desperate distraction from an unavoidable state of maximal attainable entropy

I sleep, and dark thoughts turn to dark daydreams which give way to darker dreams.

People become easier by the second, but by this point, I've lost whatever passing interest I had those few moments ago.  It's pointless when you're hundreds of moves ahead.  Watching them roll the dice in their heads in a game you've already played 20 times over, and seen them make the same decision every time.

I wait to see how long it lasts this time around.  I make what arrangements I can in the time I have; it'll all seem like chance even to me when it's over.