The Theory of Everything. Circles. Shadows. Magical Realism. Poems. Designs. Thoughts. Assholery. Stars. Infinite Infinities. Absurdism. Science. Quantum Physics/Mechanics/Fiction. Creative Fuckery.
"There’s nothing for me to learn from winning.
Zachary Schomburg - Fire Cycle
There are trees and they are on fire. There are hummingbirds and they are on fire. There are graves and they are on fire and the things coming out of the graves are on fire. The house you grew up in is on fire. There is a gigantic trebuchet on fire on the edge of a crater and the crater is on fire. There is a complex system of tunnels deep underneath the surface with only one entrance and one exit and the entire system is filled with fire. There is a wooden cage we’re trapped in, too large to see, and it is on fire. There are jaguars on fire. Wolves. Spiders. Wolf-spiders on fire. If there were people. If our fathers were alive. If we had a daughter. Fire to the edges. Fire in the river beds. Fire between the mattresses of the bed you were born in. Fire in your mother’s belly. There is a little boy wearing a fire shirt holding a baby lamb. There is a little girl in a fire skirt asking if she can ride the baby lamb like a horse. There is you on top of me with thighs of fire while a hot red fog hovers in your hair. There is me on top of you wearing a fire shirt and then pulling the fire shirt over my head and tossing it like a fireball through the fog at a new kind of dinosaur. There are meteorites disintegrating in the atmosphere just a few thousand feet above us and tiny fireballs are falling down around us, pooling around us, forming a kind of fire lake which then forms a kind of fire cloud. There is this feeling I get when I am with you. There is our future house burning like a star on the hill. There is our dark flickering shadow. There is my hand on fire in your hand on fire, my body on fire above your body on fire, our tongues made of ash. We are rocks on a distant and uninhabitable planet. We have our whole life ahead of us.
Ted Mosby as The Calligrapher (HIMYM S9 E14)
…The trick to accuracy is like;
Try to be REALLY accurate
Like REALLY try to aim!
Look where you’re slapping
And then try to slap THAT spot
instead of some other spot
Well, I guess that’s pretty much it
You can slap people now.
I LOVE IT!!!!!! >.<
هي لا تحبك، يعجبها مجازك
أنت شاعرها و هذا كل ما في الأمر
She does not love you.
Your metaphors thrill her,
You are her poet
But that’s all there is to it."
"The first draft is just you telling yourself the story."
"There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened."
"I hugged the walls, famished for shadow."
"Don’t classify me, read me. I’m a writer, not a genre."
"In his piteous battle with himself I saw everything that was brave and grotesque about suffering.[…] He turned to see if I had gone, but I was still standing where he had left me, as helpless as he was. At that moment he gave me a look that was to haunt me for the rest of my life – a look of such despair that it choked the life out of a noble father’s promises to his son. It was a look such as a man can give only once in his lifetime, since after it there is nothing. Seeing it, I realised that those eyes, which had fascinated and terrified me, which had watched over me, warned me, loved and pitied me, would never look upon me again.
—Yasmina Khadra, What the Day Owes the Night. Vintage, 2011"
"Sometimes it is easier to see clearly into the liar than into the man who tells the truth. Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object."
I’ve come to know and understand that the main source and cause of my ephemeral suffering is deeply embedded in my quest for greatness.
I swear, all this brokenness would not happen if I wanted to just remain simple and like any common man across the road.
But the thing about extraordinary people is that even their challenges will always be of extraordinary measures.
My tooth ache is more brutal than the other guy’s.
My hunger is more lethal than that of the dude asking me for R2 at corner Commissioner and Main Street.
I have come to accept and acknowledge my suffering as compulsory exercise for the greater guy I aspire to always be.
This bleeding is not much.
These tears are a puddle, I want a whole ocean!
To hell with the stones, I am for freaking meteors!
Don’t prick me and hope for a fall-apart,
Cut a river through my skin!
I am chest split torn, opening myself up for all the tyranny.
Dear life; don’t give me huddles,
Throw the whole mountain in front of me,
I will break the damn thing apart!
I also know that my own darkness is far more grungy
than the nights you threaten me with.
…back to The Shadows.