This to a friend of mine called Silas who has experenced a targic loss recently and finds himself in a time of dampend spirits and reflection.
I just wish to say my strengh goes out to you to get you through this difficult time but be sure to know it won't be like this for too long.
This is just the intense part of loss something that everyone finds unbearable at times and unwilling to face.
..but it's okay it's alright because it's what humans do you are coping in the way you know how and nobody has a mgic way to do things.
The only reason why it feels so bad is because the person you lost was such a good person and ment so much to you.
Her influence and goodness lives on inside your heart which means she has not gone but still sharing her love with and others through you and the things you do and say.
People are fragile you and I are fragile and times such as these we realise what that actuley means. You see that is good because that means your real and normal like you should be.
Also remeber this the only thing to come out of darkness is light and it always does just let it happen and the rest will follow.
To my dear friend Silas.
Friday, 23 June 2006
Tuesday, 20 June 2006
Since I was 14.....
Above you will see a scanned image of a human brain of someone with the condition of epilepsy (not mine) the colours make it look pretty spectacular but the condition itself is acutely mysterious.
First of all I have to point out that doctors today are still unsure as to the real cause of epilepsy there are theories as to what could be the reason such as:
-Head injury
-Serious brain infections, such as meningitis,scar tissue on the brain
-Brain tumors
-Brain surgery
-Stroke
-Alzheimer's disease or other diseases that change the brains structure
Any condition that keeps blood or oxygen from getting to the brain (e.g. hardening of the arteries)
-Alcohol or drug abuse
-Brain injury during fetal development
-Trauma during birth (such as lack of oxygen).
-High fever (in children)
-Certain medications
As you can tell there a host of possibilities but nobody acutely knows or can pin point a cause at least not yet anyway.
Since I was 14 I have suffered from epilepsy one chilly winter morning I was in school and out playing football with friends at breaktime and without warning I blacked out.
I remember waking up with a crowd of people around me mostly friends and some teachers too I didn't know where I was and the I could only sense things like smells and the taste of my own blood in my mouth.
It caused quite a sensation and thanks to the help of some really good friends of mine an ambulance came in short time.
I felt as if something important had happened to me but I could tell what or why I found it impossible to walk.
It was as if I had been blasted with a paralyzing ray of somekind I had no energy,my tongue was painful because I bite down hard onto it and all I wanted to do was sleep.
I was checked over at hospital and told that this was an epileptic fit and it was possible this could be my one and only siezue.
Well around two years passed and I had been clear of any such complications the notion of me suffering from such a condition had all but evaporated.
Until one day in December where I had my second fit it was pretty nasty and I scared my little brother soo much he hid under the table(I must have looked like a wild man).
Shortly after this I was told by my specialist to have a brain scan the results revealed I had some excess electrical brain activity that indicated I had epilepsy.
basically when you have a fit you brain goes through something of an electrical storm and due to the complicate nature of the neurons in the brain this causes turmoil.
The brain then shuts down much like a computer does when it crashes and then reboots after a time setting up itself to work properly once more.
A lot has happened between when I was first diagnosed at 16 and now 27 some terrifying some character building but I am still here and epilepsy is one condition where doctors can offer a lot of help for you.
My medication (touch wood) is working very well I have even got to the point that when I get enough money together I can take driving lessons.
So it was strange when a friend of mine told me I reminded him of a character Simon from my favarourite book Lord Of The Flies.
Simon is the character that discovers the pigs head on a spear and the shock causes him to have an epileptic seizue.
In the book he as seen as some type of prophet figure claiming that the pig is a beast due to his hallucinations whilst having a siezue.
It was strange as my friend didn't take this into account and it was the most bizarre comment to make me smile I have had in a long time.
There is always something to learn about yourself if you look hard enough and if you look for the good things and take into account the bad with the same humble demeanor you shall be fine :)
Thursday, 11 May 2006
A-Team fight scenes
Okay so this isn't dark,moody and reflective so in that case I should acutely get people reading this post hoho ;)
I am up at the early hours as usual(this time I am working on my horror short stories however:) ) and on the box is the A-Team.
Right I looked up at the T.V screen for a few seconds to see the MOST inept bunch of crooks on the face of the planet.
First of all Murdoch knocks-out a large black junk yard worker by slamming a car door in his stomach???
He proceeds to creep along the roof tops of wrecked cars to aid his fellow A-Teamers who are being held at gun point.
The criminals all seem to be as intelligent as a pork chop and not a well seasoned one at that. Anyway when Murdoch gets to the edge of the last junked out car he says "Okay pilgrims put down yer irons.." Or words to that effect(oh and it's funny how in some parts of England being called an iron is a snide way of being called homosexual HAHA!)
Well as usual the criminals all look up in unison mouths gaping which leads to the most bizarre fight scene I have seen in ages...Basically like this:
Hannibal (40/50 years old) leaps vertical up towards the head crook which cuts to a scene of him colliding into the guy like a begalise tiger???
B.A bonks a small mustachio man on the head and the guy tumbles to the floor as if he was made of play doh???
.....And that annoying passionless TWAT Face has the most effeminate fisty cuffs with another junk yard felon. All the while smiling his porcelain grin and making sure the crook doesn't hit him in the face before disposing of the said naughty fellow.
The thing that annoys me is this programme was suppose to evoke unruly and violent behavior into me as a kid and nearly got banned from I.T.V as a result.
All I have to say is if the govenment at that time saw a apocalyptic future of all conflict between man choreographed by Wayne sleep then yes maybe the A-Team would have worried you.
However if that vision of a nightmarish future has never caused you to lose any sleep(not Wayne this time) then you may see my point.
I am up at the early hours as usual(this time I am working on my horror short stories however:) ) and on the box is the A-Team.
Right I looked up at the T.V screen for a few seconds to see the MOST inept bunch of crooks on the face of the planet.
First of all Murdoch knocks-out a large black junk yard worker by slamming a car door in his stomach???
He proceeds to creep along the roof tops of wrecked cars to aid his fellow A-Teamers who are being held at gun point.
The criminals all seem to be as intelligent as a pork chop and not a well seasoned one at that. Anyway when Murdoch gets to the edge of the last junked out car he says "Okay pilgrims put down yer irons.." Or words to that effect(oh and it's funny how in some parts of England being called an iron is a snide way of being called homosexual HAHA!)
Well as usual the criminals all look up in unison mouths gaping which leads to the most bizarre fight scene I have seen in ages...Basically like this:
Hannibal (40/50 years old) leaps vertical up towards the head crook which cuts to a scene of him colliding into the guy like a begalise tiger???
B.A bonks a small mustachio man on the head and the guy tumbles to the floor as if he was made of play doh???
.....And that annoying passionless TWAT Face has the most effeminate fisty cuffs with another junk yard felon. All the while smiling his porcelain grin and making sure the crook doesn't hit him in the face before disposing of the said naughty fellow.
The thing that annoys me is this programme was suppose to evoke unruly and violent behavior into me as a kid and nearly got banned from I.T.V as a result.
All I have to say is if the govenment at that time saw a apocalyptic future of all conflict between man choreographed by Wayne sleep then yes maybe the A-Team would have worried you.
However if that vision of a nightmarish future has never caused you to lose any sleep(not Wayne this time) then you may see my point.
Wednesday, 19 April 2006
Dark Motorways and long dead Motocades
If a car drove down a motorway with out streetlights and without headlights. If the driver was cloaked in darkness not being able to see backwards forwards or sideways would he/she be making progress.
Would the road be leading anywhere or is it a strech of endless tarmac where the journey only ends when the car runs out of fuel.
Should the person turn around and go back to look for a turning he missed or is it impossible to do,Perhaps all they can remember was one straight road and only the illusion of alternative routes.
Could you even hear the engine it could be roaring like a pride of lions but would it be heard by a single living sole.
Just imagine this person gets out the car pulls up at the laybye and waits if his appointment was with bleak nothingness he would be early.
The driver sits down on the verge and looks...Examines tire tracks and barriers made filthy through fumes.
Listen and you too can hear the specters of the past the old traffic jams the bleating horns of angry vehicles. All gone now all away from here this driver has missed it all I think this driver whomever they may be couldn't take the struggle. They felt the rigid motorcade and furious jaw snapping people were too much to take.
However they are all somewhere finally in a place who knows where but you can be sure there is light there and warmth and company.
This driver swapped all this in preference for the cold dark night the lightless void too which he alone owned...Or did it own the driver.
The sun had set and died here the night pushing it down and ripping it away from the sky so the driver walked back to the car.
Sat down and thought,eyes closed the driver flicked a switched one that failed time after time praying and sweating chilling tears from the skin the switch was slowly turned again.
This time not only did the engine growl and thunder against the unfriendly twilight but the headlights came on ...The driver gasped ...Crying shocked something had happened.
Something force him to carry on...To drive forward and refuse to turn the head back...To eat the road up with the vehicles tires.
The driver visualized a destination ...One with light,warmth and people.....And if the lights can be turned on so can the destination.
Would the road be leading anywhere or is it a strech of endless tarmac where the journey only ends when the car runs out of fuel.
Should the person turn around and go back to look for a turning he missed or is it impossible to do,Perhaps all they can remember was one straight road and only the illusion of alternative routes.
Could you even hear the engine it could be roaring like a pride of lions but would it be heard by a single living sole.
Just imagine this person gets out the car pulls up at the laybye and waits if his appointment was with bleak nothingness he would be early.
The driver sits down on the verge and looks...Examines tire tracks and barriers made filthy through fumes.
Listen and you too can hear the specters of the past the old traffic jams the bleating horns of angry vehicles. All gone now all away from here this driver has missed it all I think this driver whomever they may be couldn't take the struggle. They felt the rigid motorcade and furious jaw snapping people were too much to take.
However they are all somewhere finally in a place who knows where but you can be sure there is light there and warmth and company.
This driver swapped all this in preference for the cold dark night the lightless void too which he alone owned...Or did it own the driver.
The sun had set and died here the night pushing it down and ripping it away from the sky so the driver walked back to the car.
Sat down and thought,eyes closed the driver flicked a switched one that failed time after time praying and sweating chilling tears from the skin the switch was slowly turned again.
This time not only did the engine growl and thunder against the unfriendly twilight but the headlights came on ...The driver gasped ...Crying shocked something had happened.
Something force him to carry on...To drive forward and refuse to turn the head back...To eat the road up with the vehicles tires.
The driver visualized a destination ...One with light,warmth and people.....And if the lights can be turned on so can the destination.
Monday, 10 April 2006
Off the Cuff Blood...
Right down below is a straight off the cuff peice of writing that has no direction or real purpose other than to see where my thoughts go and to see how it turns out on text :)
Battling from the shore he fought off hordes of the armoued demons. The tide raging behind him the froth and foam the sea bit the shore with a toothless mouth but rabid bite.
The masked invaders feet sunk in the wet sands as he trudged to the mainlaand crushing the swarming demons like soo man tin cans.
Reacing soild his progress became labourd and slow striking his sword into the soil to gain balance and purchase into the vile land.
The demons slain he viewed his horizen the dark red skies hummed with malice and war the struggle had only just began and maybe he was too late.
Even with his might may not be enough to even the odds this clash of forces,this final pursuit of destiny may have already been lost yet still the warrior continued.
He must the people of this diseased soild had activated his exsistance tharwed him from his glacial rest.
Stood tall upon the hill side he noticed to the west the burning fortresses the smoke bellowed a smog of roasting flesh and crushed machinery.
East held little promise of hope the legions of skeletal buzzards massed upon any living and free thinking being and tore them to shreds,eating,ripping.
The warrior progressed north the great grey plains of dead grass lay ahead and so did the forces breed to stop him those three deadly creations that could only be made but not born due to thier diabolical darkness.
The warrior roared into the raw crimson heavens he cried for rain to aid him and it came hard and fast to quell the fires and aid the populas of this dying terrian.
This quest had only started and he must finish it NOW he must furfil the pact he made thousands of years ago, A pact sealed by spitirt and will....
Okay...that started off in my head as just a vision of something stroming a shore battling things...hehe...it turned into something else along the way :)..I don't have clue if it will ever be used.
Battling from the shore he fought off hordes of the armoued demons. The tide raging behind him the froth and foam the sea bit the shore with a toothless mouth but rabid bite.
The masked invaders feet sunk in the wet sands as he trudged to the mainlaand crushing the swarming demons like soo man tin cans.
Reacing soild his progress became labourd and slow striking his sword into the soil to gain balance and purchase into the vile land.
The demons slain he viewed his horizen the dark red skies hummed with malice and war the struggle had only just began and maybe he was too late.
Even with his might may not be enough to even the odds this clash of forces,this final pursuit of destiny may have already been lost yet still the warrior continued.
He must the people of this diseased soild had activated his exsistance tharwed him from his glacial rest.
Stood tall upon the hill side he noticed to the west the burning fortresses the smoke bellowed a smog of roasting flesh and crushed machinery.
East held little promise of hope the legions of skeletal buzzards massed upon any living and free thinking being and tore them to shreds,eating,ripping.
The warrior progressed north the great grey plains of dead grass lay ahead and so did the forces breed to stop him those three deadly creations that could only be made but not born due to thier diabolical darkness.
The warrior roared into the raw crimson heavens he cried for rain to aid him and it came hard and fast to quell the fires and aid the populas of this dying terrian.
This quest had only started and he must finish it NOW he must furfil the pact he made thousands of years ago, A pact sealed by spitirt and will....
Okay...that started off in my head as just a vision of something stroming a shore battling things...hehe...it turned into something else along the way :)..I don't have clue if it will ever be used.
Thursday, 6 April 2006
A bloody pulp
Before I was born...well the early 1970's there was a writer called James Herbet he written a book called The Rats which is now infamous it's abilty to make the skin crawl and has probably made a lot of money for rent-o-kill.
James Herbet's book was a massive succsess world wide selling millons of copies and it still sell strong to this very day.
Now he started out writing a type of horror called Pulp horror the kind of stuff that many fans of the U.S comic E.C would recognise.
Pulp horror is basicly for entertainmentit plenty of ghastly deeds,a troff full of gore and some dirty sex.
It's view as the most low brow form of horror litriture around people often disregaurd it as badly written and horribly concived.
I freely admit that after The Rats had been set upon the public there were many hack writers scribbling out paper backs with the promise of a quick few quid.
The problem is that amongst the slew of hacks and wittles scribes there were writers with obvious talent and love for the genre.
My foavourite pulp horror writer of all time is Guy N.Smith a man who never pretneded he wasn't in it for the money but he was also a writer with tremendious indsutry and knowledge of what the pblic wanted to read.
His most famous books were and still are his Crab nasties the basic premise being that humans are being attacked by a legion of well orginised and blood thirsty giant crabs.
...with a plot like that how can you not have fun reading his stuff since then Guy N.Smith has championed the pulp genre by writing over 80 titles that contain a host of grisley monstrousities and diabolical jernoys.
It has been said that one of his more famous works The Sucking Pit is THE ultimate pulp horror paperback even Stephen King himself endorse the work.
I have almost all of Guy N.Smiths books(they take up a lot of shelf space I can tell you) but I haven't got around to reading this one yet(currently reading Doomflight) so maybe I should.
So what I would say to anyone who wants to read the trashy horror books in todays supposedly high-brow world is that do it it's fun and you will find some extremely well written peices.
Also just like any diet reading is no different as long as you balance pulp horror with other works like Lord of The Flies,The Wasp Factory,I Am Legend e.t.c...you won't go far wrong.
James Herbet's book was a massive succsess world wide selling millons of copies and it still sell strong to this very day.
Now he started out writing a type of horror called Pulp horror the kind of stuff that many fans of the U.S comic E.C would recognise.
Pulp horror is basicly for entertainmentit plenty of ghastly deeds,a troff full of gore and some dirty sex.
It's view as the most low brow form of horror litriture around people often disregaurd it as badly written and horribly concived.
I freely admit that after The Rats had been set upon the public there were many hack writers scribbling out paper backs with the promise of a quick few quid.
The problem is that amongst the slew of hacks and wittles scribes there were writers with obvious talent and love for the genre.
My foavourite pulp horror writer of all time is Guy N.Smith a man who never pretneded he wasn't in it for the money but he was also a writer with tremendious indsutry and knowledge of what the pblic wanted to read.
His most famous books were and still are his Crab nasties the basic premise being that humans are being attacked by a legion of well orginised and blood thirsty giant crabs.
...with a plot like that how can you not have fun reading his stuff since then Guy N.Smith has championed the pulp genre by writing over 80 titles that contain a host of grisley monstrousities and diabolical jernoys.
It has been said that one of his more famous works The Sucking Pit is THE ultimate pulp horror paperback even Stephen King himself endorse the work.
I have almost all of Guy N.Smiths books(they take up a lot of shelf space I can tell you) but I haven't got around to reading this one yet(currently reading Doomflight) so maybe I should.
So what I would say to anyone who wants to read the trashy horror books in todays supposedly high-brow world is that do it it's fun and you will find some extremely well written peices.
Also just like any diet reading is no different as long as you balance pulp horror with other works like Lord of The Flies,The Wasp Factory,I Am Legend e.t.c...you won't go far wrong.
Wednesday, 5 April 2006
Money spiders or Ants?
Have you ever been in the kitchen or bathroom and see that little black crawling speck pass your eyes?
The chances are it was from the corner of your eye and you didn't get to see it properly. So you recheck because you thought you saw a money spider and we all know the folklore behind a money spider.
You gently pick it up betwein finger and thumb and rotate it around your head three times. If you do this it is said fourtune comes your way in the finacial sense I try not to be trapped by superstition but I afford to pass up magik ;)
I find that when I find a money spider or someone else does it brings a smile and a giggle to thier faces and a sense that it was lucky to find such a darling little spider.
However sometimes when you do look again from the corner of your eye it turns out just to be a normal black ant and you snear or sigh in dissapointment.
I mean there are thousands,Millions,Billons of ants thier not special ...thier all the same not magical like the money spider.
They don't offer the possiblity of unearned riches ants arn't omens they don't even weave webs to eat the flies that land on your dinner.
The ant is ignored becuase it's just like all the other mindless drones of other worker ants mindlessly working it's life away for it's queen.
One of ten..one of one-hundred...of a thousand..a million...legion!
When you look at the world and you see the queens and kings infront of the flash of cameras courted by the many who ethier admire them or in hope that being in proxy with them some of the queens/kings magik may rub off on them.
When you think and look in the mirror you can't help but feel like the ant you passed by in the kitchen.
It's a cliche but with out the black ant The Queen would starve and perish and you may be a black ant but you hold much more power than you will ever know.
The chances are it was from the corner of your eye and you didn't get to see it properly. So you recheck because you thought you saw a money spider and we all know the folklore behind a money spider.
You gently pick it up betwein finger and thumb and rotate it around your head three times. If you do this it is said fourtune comes your way in the finacial sense I try not to be trapped by superstition but I afford to pass up magik ;)
I find that when I find a money spider or someone else does it brings a smile and a giggle to thier faces and a sense that it was lucky to find such a darling little spider.
However sometimes when you do look again from the corner of your eye it turns out just to be a normal black ant and you snear or sigh in dissapointment.
I mean there are thousands,Millions,Billons of ants thier not special ...thier all the same not magical like the money spider.
They don't offer the possiblity of unearned riches ants arn't omens they don't even weave webs to eat the flies that land on your dinner.
The ant is ignored becuase it's just like all the other mindless drones of other worker ants mindlessly working it's life away for it's queen.
One of ten..one of one-hundred...of a thousand..a million...legion!
When you look at the world and you see the queens and kings infront of the flash of cameras courted by the many who ethier admire them or in hope that being in proxy with them some of the queens/kings magik may rub off on them.
When you think and look in the mirror you can't help but feel like the ant you passed by in the kitchen.
It's a cliche but with out the black ant The Queen would starve and perish and you may be a black ant but you hold much more power than you will ever know.
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