Saturday, January 29, 2005
Little Bird
It was unfortunate. The bird in the tree had flown off, a weighty string tied to its little bird legs.
Pulling it down, it must be so hard to fly, little bird.
It must be so hard, to know that you can never fly as far as you want, or fly as high as you want to either. Then after all that struggle to reach to top, you just drop back down, helpless in flight and soaring technique. Gravity pulls you back down, drags you back down, like stones put into your pockets and you are pushed into a river to swim. Gasping and spitting and swallowing. The murky waters, drench your mouth, leaving an after taste of soil and the dirty things fish do in the water.
No matter what, fly little bird, fly up into the sky. Know that in the end the earth will still claim you, know that gravity will still pluck you out of the sky. Know that you can't stay air borne forever. Fly in defiance of it, fly so that the earth will know your rebelling, revolt, strike. Your refusal would come across as one small insignificant flower grasping the soil with all its might, in the face of the mighty hurricane, but it is this valor and courage that makes you little bird, one of the few heroes that we have in life. Willing to fight even though all is lost, all is pre-ordained. Yet you still fly and struggle with the string, tweet tweet, you cry in stubborness, tweet tweet, you perservere on in pain and tiredness. Your strength is waning, drip by drip, oh your leg is bleeding, the string has cut into your leg, now you'll either die of blood loss or infection.
Oh, cruel fate! Oh, terrible tragedy! Now your fate has been sealed!
Now, little bird what are you to do? Will you drop down to earth and rest for a while and try to pick the string off your feet? Or will you continue on your suicide flight, do as the kamikaze does? For honour? Or is it for pride? Which is the lesser of the two evils? For honour is much like pride, but it has a positive connotation to it, little bird! Or is it pride, not wanting to admit defeat? Which is it? Will you choose? You must choose! It is like most of the choices we make in life, but this has far more significance, as it involves life and death.
The little bird struggles to flap its wings, they are almost out of use. tweet tweet, poor bird is dropping out of the sky, its choice was made for it. Little bird did not choose fast enough, and as little bird plumments towards the ground it dies. Its heart had failed on it, pulling little bird into the unconciousness and brain damage as it stops breathing. Little bird hits the sidewalk in front of a passerby. The passerby shrieks and jumps at the dead bird on the sidewalk. The passerby looks up at the sky, looking for some sign that maybe god has given a warning, or that today might be the very day it starts raining birds. The passerby looks at the dead bird on the sidewalk shakes his head, and walks off, side-stepping the dead canary, and continued his own journey of life.
The End.
Strange story huh? It just came off the top of my head, i was trying to write in the stream of conciousness, of the story and how it relates to other things in my mind. Do you sympathize with the little bird? I don't think my tone was one of pity, was it? Tell me what you think...
deadnessmaster live again at 1:47 PM
I went to watch a dance performance by these professional male dancers today at the jubilee hall in raffles hotel.
It was fantastic! They can really dance! They are all so young too about 19, 20 years of age. they can do splits and things. But the thing is that they were really good lookers. All of them had skin i can never ever have.
A reminder of the things i'll be able to achieve and never to have at all.
Thats why i hate this body so much. Pathetic human body.
i'm very frank about my scars now. Those who ask about it, i answer back their question. I tell the truth, its nice to see their reaction. Anyways, the whole thing with Mr Fung today has been a total faux pau. I'm just sick of it and do not want to discuss it in the least bit. if you want a lengthy explanation of what happened, read amanda's blog.
U.I. I have something to say, that i have completed my sanctorium.
You might ask, what is a sanctorium? It is my library in my head, i've completed the room in my
mind. Furnished the way i like it. I retreat inside there whenever i am trying to get away from something that i find annoying (life in particular). I go inside and stay there putting words into the blank books that i have there . Filling it with color, pictures and information. i listen to whatever music there is in there, stored in my mind. I sip my cooling drink, and feel that the day is in particularly perfect. I don't have any mirrors in my sanctorium. i don't need them anyway cause i can't seem to see my own face in my own sanctorium. But on the outside, my body is running on the track during PE. I'm huffing and puffing but i refuse to feel tired or slow down. the mind is an amazing thing. That is what a year of meditation can do. Anyways, one of these days i 'll retreat fully in my sanctorium and shut the door to the outside and never come out. There's much to do inside there, because every day inside there is a happy perfect day, full of joy. Something i don't exactly experience alot in reality. i'll probably end up in a mental institute, staring into space or i'll give my body a last final order to put itself out of its misery.
Well after all this angst, a short story again. A story meant to convey the story short and sweet.
deadnessmaster live again at 1:27 AM
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Hello, like my new picture?
I decided to change it, I got too sick of seeing that person's foot. A bit off looking isn't it? My blog I mean.
That was all i could do today, i had a hard time setting up the photo, and the top part is like cut off. So here is my plea to html wizards out there.
PLEASE tell me how to shift the picture down, all i can seem to do is elongate it.
Oh yeah and one more thing, how does one put up a phrase in the background, 'the eye is here' , or something lame like that, i kind of think my background is a bit plain. Thanks.
Now on to my short story.
U.I. You all do know that i'll not put up anything else of my personal life anymore on this blog, i find its as if i'm publicising my life out for everyone to read. Having a few secrets and skeletons in the closet is so much more fun. Oh yeah now i promise to write more explosions of literary fervor, as well as to improve my writing skills, i am going to publish my own book one day you know.
-------------------------------
The bland blue sky was cloudless, its vast expansion reached out into the horizon, touching the earth, falling into a straight line of congruity, that one could hardly make out the difference between the other.
But still he searched along that distance, sieving out what innumerable, obscure shapes that he could find. Waiting in anticipation for that particular outline of a woman galloping towards her doom, out of the faint mix of sand and air. No doubt, he had waited long here. Mounting tension combined with heat of this parched afternoon, was trying his will and endurance to the very limit.
She won't be long now, the marksman said to himself. A black dung beetle crawled up the tip of the ridge, a minor disturbance to the stillness of the surroundings. From above, the lone prostrate form of the marksman would have been indistinguishable against the brown, green of the protruding ridge of the canyon. A mark of his expertise at his craft.
What was that? Indistinct against the sky, a small trailing cloud of dust and sand rose up in the distance. Could it be her? The marksman peered at the hazy speck with squinting grey eyes. As the speck grew in density and shape, it could be confirmed that it was the well-defined form of a horse and a figure gripping tightly to its reigns. The stocky rider had a turban tied around its head, shadowing its face from recognition. But the bulging chest underneath the black tunic, gave the marksman the confirmation he needed.
Propping the rifle against his shoulder, he took aim at the rider as she drew nearer to the entrance. His eyebrows drawing together in concentration, persperation dripping off the tip of his nose, he aims the barrel at the woman's clothed head.
A sudden gust of wind blows from the north, spraying grit into his eyes. He flinches in irritation, concentration broken and the moment lost. Lady luck seemed not to be on his side today. The marksman rubs his eyes and sees that his target was not doing any better than he was.
It seems that lady luck was not favouring either of them today. The rider's turban had come undone, exposing her precious white skin to the harsh elements. Her vibrant copper toned hair, had sprung unkempt from its net, drapping strands across her forehead. Her beauty entranced him, no doubt was she the ' Pearl of the Sands'.
It would be a shame to spoil such great beauty, but in all his years he never failed. Once again he props the rifle against his shoulder, takes aim. This time, the heart.
------------------------
How was it? Not much of a cliff hanger at the end, but you'll never know the ending, i won't end it. You end it. But as usual, comments any one?
deadnessmaster live again at 7:25 PM