Friday, March 16, 2012
New Blog
Hey y'all. I got a new blog and won't be posting on here anymore. If you find my material interesting, check out http://fictitiousimpression.tumblr.com/
Saturday, March 3, 2012
A Nice Suprise
After leaving my shift at six in the
morning, I made my way to the shop, weary, tired, and sick feeling. I pulled up
to my dad’s truck—the one I was borrowing, and unlocked the door. Something
felt off but I couldn’t understand what. I started it to let it warm up and
shut the door, but as it slammed closed I could hear bits of something falling
inside the truck. I opened the door and took a better look, realizing there
were pieces of glass scattered all over the inside of the cab. The back window
had a massive hole through it, with shards of tempered class jagged around the
edges. I shook my head and mumbled the words ‘fuck’ to myself, not knowing how
to react. I went into the work truck and called my dad.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hey. How’re you?”
“Not so good.”
There was a slight pause before he asked, “What’s wrong?
“Someone,” I stopped, not wanting to inflict him with any more troubles than he already had, then continued, “someone smashed out the back window of your truck while I was at work.” I awaited his long drawn out sigh before asking, “Do you think it could have been him?”
“I don’t know. This really sucks. Go to Joe’s and I’ll call him to help you cover it up.”
My exhaustion forced me to dread the idea. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and go to sleep. I told him, “There’s glass everywhere. I can’t drive it like this” and asked, “Should I call the police?”
“Just clean it up and get it covered. You can call the police after.”
I groaned and said I’d call him back and phoned my boss to tell him what happened. He told me to call the police, so I did, and after leaving a report I worked on removing the bits of glass from the drivers seat. I tried taping garbage bags across the window but it was too cold for it to stick and I eventually gave up the idea. I called my dad back and told him, “I’m going to drive it home like this. The tape won’t stick and I’m tired and have to go to bed.”
He said, “Okay” and that he’d meet me at my house to fix it, but before I left two police cars came into the parking lot wanting a written report.
The police officer asked me to get in the back seat of her car, which I did willingly, and I uncomfortably sat there, feeling like a prisoner, waiting for her to come back. When she did, she flooded me with a series of questions after I gave my personal report of what happened. First was, “Why do you think that it was him who did this?”
“Hello,” I said.
“Hey. How’re you?”
“Not so good.”
There was a slight pause before he asked, “What’s wrong?
“Someone,” I stopped, not wanting to inflict him with any more troubles than he already had, then continued, “someone smashed out the back window of your truck while I was at work.” I awaited his long drawn out sigh before asking, “Do you think it could have been him?”
“I don’t know. This really sucks. Go to Joe’s and I’ll call him to help you cover it up.”
My exhaustion forced me to dread the idea. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and go to sleep. I told him, “There’s glass everywhere. I can’t drive it like this” and asked, “Should I call the police?”
“Just clean it up and get it covered. You can call the police after.”
I groaned and said I’d call him back and phoned my boss to tell him what happened. He told me to call the police, so I did, and after leaving a report I worked on removing the bits of glass from the drivers seat. I tried taping garbage bags across the window but it was too cold for it to stick and I eventually gave up the idea. I called my dad back and told him, “I’m going to drive it home like this. The tape won’t stick and I’m tired and have to go to bed.”
He said, “Okay” and that he’d meet me at my house to fix it, but before I left two police cars came into the parking lot wanting a written report.
The police officer asked me to get in the back seat of her car, which I did willingly, and I uncomfortably sat there, feeling like a prisoner, waiting for her to come back. When she did, she flooded me with a series of questions after I gave my personal report of what happened. First was, “Why do you think that it was him who did this?”
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Midnight
“Isn’t it great that spring is finally here?” I asked.
We sat upon the deck, underneath the blanket of darkness that night had brought with delight. The clouds seemed to glow, picking up the radiation of the streetlamps, and they parted, like a curtain revealing the opening of a new show, to the glow of the constellations, which glimmered with rejoice in their awakening.
When I brought my gaze from the sky I noticed that Lucy had been staring at the gravel alleyway in the distance in discontent. I asked, “What’s wrong my love?” and waited through her drawn out sigh for a reply.
“I don’t like spring,” she admitted, hesitantly, and then added, “It’s so repulsing.”
“How so?” My attention still remained on the stars, which seemed to become brighter the longer I stared towards them. As my vision shifted, more were revealed, and it became difficult to look away.
She answered my question while I remained transfixed at the midnight sky. “The snow always leaves behind a disgusting display of human waste. The roads are always littered with salt rocks, mud, and litter, and it always gets all over the place. The house is always muddy, with dirt and slosh brought in from our shoes. There’s puddles everywhere that always manage to find their way through my shoes and destroy my good socks. Everything’s cold, wet, and dirty.” She whimpered with displeasure.
In an attempt to persuade her views on the season I suggested that “It’s only temporary, and then we're blessed with summers warmth.”
“I like summer!” she exclaimed, “I just don’t like everything in between. It’s a horrid part of nature.”
“But Lucy, is it not like everything’s being renewed?" I provided her with the analogy that, "It's like we are witnessing the birth of seasons--a renewal of life.”
By this time I had diverted my thoughts from the stars, giving her my full attention. She looked at me in disgust, wrinkling her nose and shrugging her eyebrows. “Birth is one of the most disgusting things to exist."
I felt revolted at the comment, believing that every woman had an appreciation for the birth of life. It altered the security of our relationship with conflicts of family expectations.
It’s dirty, bloody, and atrocious, just like spring,” she went on, destroying the euphoria my beliefs had secured. I sat quietly trying to accept her judgments. Her words continued but I had distanced my attention from her while I pondered the inaccuracies of my own perceptions.
Some time later while lying next to her, my mind was trapped in fifth gear and wouldn't slow down. My beliefs, expectations, and securities changed frequently, but things just remained either way. The world seemed to shift uncontrollably, like a ship at sail, and with the possibility of death with the swaying of each wave. The mind, reality, the deception between two minds--it creates nothing but inconsistency.
Noticing that I was awake she pointed out, “It’s been almost two years since we’ve lived with each other.”
I didn't respond, or know how to. Her tone suggested she wanted a change. I had pondered the idea of searching for a better suited parter, but dismissed it with the acceptance of security. She loved me, cherished me, and I was supposed to be the one with discontent. I was blind to the actuality of our unhappiness.
She asked me, “What do you think our relationship is going to be?”
“I don't know?” I didn't think our current state would have changed much.
The room sat eerily awaiting something to be spoken and unhappy with my reply, she was the first to commit. “What is going to happen with us?”
“What do you want?” No answer would have soothed that moment. I believe that no one really knows what they are searching for. A moment of happiness suddenly overtook my realization of loss. Past memories shared flooded my mind, like a lucid dream, I relived the moments as if watching a painful film.
The flickering light of a candle bounced its illumination on the wall, as if dancing to the chant of a divine presence. “Look how it makes the waves of that painting seem as if it’s moving.” Lucy’s arm rested over me as we lied together on top of my bed. “It’s almost as if the candlelight makes it real. Doesn’t it seem like were looking through a window?”
“Sure.”
“It makes me want to escape.”
“You don’t like it here?” I asked.
“Well...” she paused. “I like you. You're cute. So you should escape with me.”
“Where shall we go?” I laughed at the thought.
“Anywhere but here. Let’s just drive somewhere new. Fuck this place.”
She sat up and turned on the night lamp that sat on a side table next to the bed. “Well,"she persisted, "Let’s go right now. It will be a spontaneous adventure!” She tugged at my arm, trying to pull me from my cozy slumber.
“Right now?" I groaned. "It’s already past midnight, and I have to work tomorrow.”
"You hate your job. And I don't want to come back. Let's just leave this waste behind and start fresh. We can become whoever, whatever we want. The possibilities are infinite. It will be a new life, how we want, with us."
It was her eager ambition and spontaneous drive that I fell in love with, that drove me to experience what I feared. I was in need of a push, and she pushed me, but what good are memories when life is lived moment by moment? Thoughts of future happiness is what had driven me. We were both running away from a past, but stuck in the moment, and the farther we seemed to get, the worse things developed. The future seemed dismal and unappetizing, but life goes on either way, and luckily it does, because confrontations of the unexpected are what make it an adventure.
We sat upon the deck, underneath the blanket of darkness that night had brought with delight. The clouds seemed to glow, picking up the radiation of the streetlamps, and they parted, like a curtain revealing the opening of a new show, to the glow of the constellations, which glimmered with rejoice in their awakening.
When I brought my gaze from the sky I noticed that Lucy had been staring at the gravel alleyway in the distance in discontent. I asked, “What’s wrong my love?” and waited through her drawn out sigh for a reply.
“I don’t like spring,” she admitted, hesitantly, and then added, “It’s so repulsing.”
“How so?” My attention still remained on the stars, which seemed to become brighter the longer I stared towards them. As my vision shifted, more were revealed, and it became difficult to look away.
She answered my question while I remained transfixed at the midnight sky. “The snow always leaves behind a disgusting display of human waste. The roads are always littered with salt rocks, mud, and litter, and it always gets all over the place. The house is always muddy, with dirt and slosh brought in from our shoes. There’s puddles everywhere that always manage to find their way through my shoes and destroy my good socks. Everything’s cold, wet, and dirty.” She whimpered with displeasure.
In an attempt to persuade her views on the season I suggested that “It’s only temporary, and then we're blessed with summers warmth.”
“I like summer!” she exclaimed, “I just don’t like everything in between. It’s a horrid part of nature.”
“But Lucy, is it not like everything’s being renewed?" I provided her with the analogy that, "It's like we are witnessing the birth of seasons--a renewal of life.”
By this time I had diverted my thoughts from the stars, giving her my full attention. She looked at me in disgust, wrinkling her nose and shrugging her eyebrows. “Birth is one of the most disgusting things to exist."
I felt revolted at the comment, believing that every woman had an appreciation for the birth of life. It altered the security of our relationship with conflicts of family expectations.
It’s dirty, bloody, and atrocious, just like spring,” she went on, destroying the euphoria my beliefs had secured. I sat quietly trying to accept her judgments. Her words continued but I had distanced my attention from her while I pondered the inaccuracies of my own perceptions.
Some time later while lying next to her, my mind was trapped in fifth gear and wouldn't slow down. My beliefs, expectations, and securities changed frequently, but things just remained either way. The world seemed to shift uncontrollably, like a ship at sail, and with the possibility of death with the swaying of each wave. The mind, reality, the deception between two minds--it creates nothing but inconsistency.
Noticing that I was awake she pointed out, “It’s been almost two years since we’ve lived with each other.”
I didn't respond, or know how to. Her tone suggested she wanted a change. I had pondered the idea of searching for a better suited parter, but dismissed it with the acceptance of security. She loved me, cherished me, and I was supposed to be the one with discontent. I was blind to the actuality of our unhappiness.
She asked me, “What do you think our relationship is going to be?”
“I don't know?” I didn't think our current state would have changed much.
The room sat eerily awaiting something to be spoken and unhappy with my reply, she was the first to commit. “What is going to happen with us?”
“What do you want?” No answer would have soothed that moment. I believe that no one really knows what they are searching for. A moment of happiness suddenly overtook my realization of loss. Past memories shared flooded my mind, like a lucid dream, I relived the moments as if watching a painful film.
The flickering light of a candle bounced its illumination on the wall, as if dancing to the chant of a divine presence. “Look how it makes the waves of that painting seem as if it’s moving.” Lucy’s arm rested over me as we lied together on top of my bed. “It’s almost as if the candlelight makes it real. Doesn’t it seem like were looking through a window?”
“Sure.”
“It makes me want to escape.”
“You don’t like it here?” I asked.
“Well...” she paused. “I like you. You're cute. So you should escape with me.”
“Where shall we go?” I laughed at the thought.
“Anywhere but here. Let’s just drive somewhere new. Fuck this place.”
She sat up and turned on the night lamp that sat on a side table next to the bed. “Well,"she persisted, "Let’s go right now. It will be a spontaneous adventure!” She tugged at my arm, trying to pull me from my cozy slumber.
“Right now?" I groaned. "It’s already past midnight, and I have to work tomorrow.”
"You hate your job. And I don't want to come back. Let's just leave this waste behind and start fresh. We can become whoever, whatever we want. The possibilities are infinite. It will be a new life, how we want, with us."
It was her eager ambition and spontaneous drive that I fell in love with, that drove me to experience what I feared. I was in need of a push, and she pushed me, but what good are memories when life is lived moment by moment? Thoughts of future happiness is what had driven me. We were both running away from a past, but stuck in the moment, and the farther we seemed to get, the worse things developed. The future seemed dismal and unappetizing, but life goes on either way, and luckily it does, because confrontations of the unexpected are what make it an adventure.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Bits of a Dream
I've created a new song. Lately this has become an obsession of mine.
This song's titled Bits of a Dream.
Press The Play Button!
Bits of a Dream by Mad Vibes
This song's titled Bits of a Dream.
Press The Play Button!
Bits of a Dream by Mad Vibes
Saturday, November 12, 2011
a melodic mixture production
I started working on this yesterday (Friday November 12) in between study periods. I had no real intentions of trying to mix it into a song, but I became consumed by the project. By applying different instrument plugs, creating over 10 tracks, an enthusiasm to produce unique sounds, and no real knowledge of what I'm doing--this is the result. If you decide to listen please do give me your opinion.
The song is called: Insomnia
The song is called: Insomnia
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
A time ago
Most days of the week after classes we would always hang out at Laura's place. She lived in an apartment building on the north end of town. The place was haggard. Right across the street from a prison. Pretty much as downtown as you could get. If I had to decide on what to consider the slums of that city, that was it, dead centre. It's not like any of us had nice places or any money considering we were students, but we managed to entertain ourselves with the little we had. As you walked into the lobby there were often homeless people trying to keep warm, begging for cigarettes, or at worst trying to follow us into the building.
This one guy was laying down across the front entrance wearing what looked like his entire wardrobe. He had a big beard and a stench of body door surrounded him. My nose stung as I walked past him but I tried to ignore it so I wouldn't cause any issues. I pressed the buzzer.
"Hey," crackled Laura's voice through the intercom.
"It's me."
The clank of the door unlocking caused the man to get up. "Hey my friend lives here and I can't remember his apartment number. I know where his room is though," he tried to explain.
My heart raced. He looked like a junky and I'm sure that there were dealers for every drug within that complex. Gangs and guns and thugs, people pushing heroin, the most extreme. Maybe not, but it wouldn't have surprised me. So I told him, "I don't think it's a good idea." I should have just quickly walked in and pretended not to hear him. But I didn't.
"What do you mean, not a good idea? I have just as much right as you to come and visit my friends."
His argument was poor so I decided to indiscreetly call him out before sliding through the door and locking him out behind me. "At least I remember my friends apartment number. I told him, "That gives me more right than you." I reached for the handle but the man shoved himself in front if me, knocking me back a few steps. He reached for the handle but it had already relocked. I was trapped in the cubicle class corridor of the entrance with him.
"Your a little shit you know that? All I wanted was to visit my goddamn friend." He was starting to get hostile so I backed away and turned to leave. I imagined him coming up behind me and knifing me in the back or something, but I just didn't want to deal with him so I didn't look back.
"Where do you think your going?" he called at me. I could hear him following. "Come back here asshole," he shouted. I just kept walking, trying to ignore the harassment. The parking lot was a dark stretch, probably the worst place I could have turned. I was starting to panic just before a set of headlights turned in.
"Hey Sam, what are you doing wandering around out here? Your car is parked right by the door."
I jumped into Jack's front seat without answering.
"What's wrong?"
"Just drive, don't stay here. Someone is following me."
"Dude, just chill. No one is following you."
He must have seen the fear in me because he followed my directions.
"Where should I go?"
He had left the parking lot and turned onto the road facing the front entrance. As we went by I searched for the man. There was nobody to be seen anywhere, and the entrance was clear.
"This is stupid. There's no one anywhere. You're just trippin'."
I hesitated, but agreed, "Okay let's just go in then."
This one guy was laying down across the front entrance wearing what looked like his entire wardrobe. He had a big beard and a stench of body door surrounded him. My nose stung as I walked past him but I tried to ignore it so I wouldn't cause any issues. I pressed the buzzer.
"Hey," crackled Laura's voice through the intercom.
"It's me."
The clank of the door unlocking caused the man to get up. "Hey my friend lives here and I can't remember his apartment number. I know where his room is though," he tried to explain.
My heart raced. He looked like a junky and I'm sure that there were dealers for every drug within that complex. Gangs and guns and thugs, people pushing heroin, the most extreme. Maybe not, but it wouldn't have surprised me. So I told him, "I don't think it's a good idea." I should have just quickly walked in and pretended not to hear him. But I didn't.
"What do you mean, not a good idea? I have just as much right as you to come and visit my friends."
His argument was poor so I decided to indiscreetly call him out before sliding through the door and locking him out behind me. "At least I remember my friends apartment number. I told him, "That gives me more right than you." I reached for the handle but the man shoved himself in front if me, knocking me back a few steps. He reached for the handle but it had already relocked. I was trapped in the cubicle class corridor of the entrance with him.
"Your a little shit you know that? All I wanted was to visit my goddamn friend." He was starting to get hostile so I backed away and turned to leave. I imagined him coming up behind me and knifing me in the back or something, but I just didn't want to deal with him so I didn't look back.
"Where do you think your going?" he called at me. I could hear him following. "Come back here asshole," he shouted. I just kept walking, trying to ignore the harassment. The parking lot was a dark stretch, probably the worst place I could have turned. I was starting to panic just before a set of headlights turned in.
"Hey Sam, what are you doing wandering around out here? Your car is parked right by the door."
I jumped into Jack's front seat without answering.
"What's wrong?"
"Just drive, don't stay here. Someone is following me."
"Dude, just chill. No one is following you."
He must have seen the fear in me because he followed my directions.
"Where should I go?"
He had left the parking lot and turned onto the road facing the front entrance. As we went by I searched for the man. There was nobody to be seen anywhere, and the entrance was clear.
"This is stupid. There's no one anywhere. You're just trippin'."
I hesitated, but agreed, "Okay let's just go in then."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)