I'd like to extend my thanks to you - Whoever you are

; )

keep those 0 down votes comin'.

Your jealousy only strengthens my vibe, friend.

I love you : )

I hope your life is full of excellent reward, little downfall, and giant prospect.

Throwing Ink

Throwing Ink (Link 2)

Throwing Ink

Throwing Ink (Link 2)

[ The Beginning Reconstruction:

An extinguishing of the colony that is: mind:

The cataclysmic cycle of the circle and A hasty decision to break the permeable wall:

Enter the mainframe that is the great bacterial quorum sense. We are all controlled by a colony of single cells. Control the blot. ]

0:00-00:53 - Introduction to Mind: First Face, Silver:

It's beautiful yet, it's all wrong here. It's like you are watching yourself from far off. From the top of some tabled mountain somewhere. The thick haze of low clouds suppose everything. If you look closely with these floating eyes you form fatigued shapes and situations in the effortless plumes. The place and time doesn't really matter. Your eyes are imprisoned here. You cannot connect to your physical form. You're watching decisions from the third person. You are trying to motivate your arms and legs. You can not. It's like the feeling of being frozen with fear. It makes you race yet, you cant find reason to move. You are becoming an animal. You have been. You're searching for the real deal. You are viewing simplicity. You are all colors.

Enter: Mind

00:53-1:36 - First Core, Stripping I, meeting S. Face:

Something is awry. You're twisting in circles. You see: A figure. The figure is made of small, perfect, silver thorns that suppose human shape and physicality. It's face is smooth, much like the surface of a ball-bearing. Small etchings suppose eyes and mouth. They show no emotion. Luminescent etchings form spiral markings around its vague features; Incantation of another kind. It is a language of shape. Its not important yet.

An unmoving mouth trebles, "Welcome to the First Core".

The words, in many languages, resonate from no where and fill all space. It lofts through you like a most lucid dream. The words tease meaninglessly. You feel tired. You feel hopeless. The whimsical stripping falls and you eat an antiquated sleep.

1:36-2:26 - Release and amplification:

You are far away from yourself now. You are not anything solid however, light fixes your shape here. You are a permeable wall. You find yourself slowly being drained. Of what? You cant be too certain. You can't remember your placement here. Whatever you were is pulling itself from your spinal column in a silent display. Tendrils of white and grey. Your are floating in a suspended cube of metallic colored liquid - perhaps further sedation. All cells are seeking removal. Reconstruction.

2:26-3:14 - Remarks from Id:

A watery, misguided voice sent ripples through the metallic liquid...

"Your consciousness is sold and drained from you so you can trespass here. Welcome yourself to some kind of infernal atmosphere. Prepare for sedation. We are. I am Id. "

You couldn't speak. Not that it would matter. You were in the scripted flow.

The figure then raised an appendage, seemingly human. Its core was dark and empty and its fringe fluttered with a hazy matter. This stood for his place and it distorted all light that passed through. With the signal apprehended a further message from Id is brought to you in the cauldron of excitation. Gravity begs you to insert a hand. You oblige. You didn't bother to try and command your light based features to do anything otherwise. With that, Id, vanished in a quiet implosion.

3:14-4:19 - De-Recollection: The onward face

You cannot imagine there is any feinting from here. Your physical form is going to dry up somewhere far away from here - where ever it is you came from. You couldn't recall now. These ponderous cogs are setting in motion and you have to be rushed along. This was your onward face. A collection of confusion, excitement, and depression all coaxed your muscles. The cauldron was sucking you in - your entire spectrum. Around you the formation of dancing, glowing, animals faded in from shadow. They held blazing lanterns which they shook intensely. Embers spilled out magnificently. They were glowing for your eternal slumber - for your insignificance.

You began your decent through into excitation.

4:19-5:22 - Waltz of Id

It all came to halt as you hit bottom. You were surrounded by distant dark trees and sitting in a field of bent illuminated grass. More animals joined. They spilled in from every direction. Distorted foxes, rats, mice, owls, among many others, some indecipherable and hosting contorted human faces and expressions. Your every aching dish was handed to you. The creatures danced all the while shooting fire into the air in beautiful displays and flying all around, hooting and howling. All your needs where presented to. You couldn't help but place a pulsing hand upon whatever was brought. This was all for you. You filled up with any taboo. You couldn't waver any of them.

5:22-5:57 - Forcing faces: Turning into Stupor:

The waltzing continued and you descended into delirium and assumed Stupor with each pleasure cast aside and used up. They all just kept dancing faster and faster. Stamina, cause or reason was of no issue. Their pace was inducing sickness. The most demeaning and caustic sickness. Your insides (if you even had them) where burning foul discomfort. They felt as if they would slip through your skin.

The waltz continued. They slipped.

5:57-7:43 - Stupor:

You could not keep up with the animals dancing anymore. Nothing was stopping them and they all began to blend into a giant sphere of glowing embers and ill formed faces. It all began to look much like a giant ball of burning hydrogen. You grew tired. Your head was spinning and some kind of viral pressure from this place was making you ill. You weren't sure how you could feel sick, this light-based form of yours but, you did. You began to vomit up all sorts of internal organs and fell head first into the remnants of your used pleasures. A heap of dead men and women dragged you down inside them. Each cold hand grabbed at whatever they could and pulled you under. Taboo had you.

Suddenly, a quickening, as if something else had taken hold of you. No longer did you feel a mass of digging fingers but, one strong clutch. Out you shot through this terrain of decaying flesh into a living blue sky.

This sky shook you free.

7:43-8:26 - Second Core: Second Face, Gold:

Far below you was some sort of sea. It was racing up to you at a phenomenal pace. Someone had you. Its hands where crafted of a smooth, reflective gold. You couldn't make much out with the roaring of winds and explosions of dense clouds. Solar flares were still trying to lick you from afar.

8:26-10:02 - Facial Collision: On the wings of Reconstruction: A jet through the synapse.

Impact.

Metal against metal was heard and made the most distinct ringing. You felt release instantly. Your form was sent into a head-over-heel spin. You were coming in and out of clouds. Frozen crystals streaming from your body. You listened to the ringing fade out as you dropped further away.

S. Face and G. Face where engaged in a raging fight with no regard for personal well-being.

10:02-10:24 - Balancing Act: A conversation with S. Face and G. Face.

Before you could muster much else on the side of critical thinking you where consumed, back first, into a most viscous and gelatinous substance. A sort of sea. It was not much like water. You sunk slowly, wide-eyed. Pieces and fragments of glittering silver and gold pierced through the surface of the liquid and into you. Quickly, more heated and distinct metallic body parts glittered through. Until finally both heads where sinking slowly besides you, staring.

"A Death; a decay." Said one fragment of silver head

"Remodel. A misunderstanding." Informed, or rather, rebuttled a fragment of gold head.

Their last words fit simultaneously, "Follow Sparrow. It will find you. You must find Thanatos".

The two heads then exploded and sent a tremendous shock wave through the sea. You where jettisoned far and deep down. They both applied themselves to you. You sunk into anonymity.

10:24-11:28 - Sparrow maps you:

You are not understanding sides and allegiance. If these things even exist.

Inconstantly, your vision is brought to you. A storm is brewing. You are surround by tall, thin, trees. The canopy of this place mixes with the thunder clouds over brain. The distant call of a small bird somewhere finds you. You feel the need to run. What direction? You try desperately to see this small form. In the distance you believe in fire and force continuation. Sparrow, made of liquid collides with your chest. It adjusts itself through you and out your back, then, off again, chirping all the while. You note this melodic contrast. You saw it glinting in the distance as if it took some of you with it - it took some of them. Everything is shaking and throwing you off balance. You can not continue. A cancerous dilemma works through your nerves; down your long railway. You imagine its all you've got left. To your knees you go. You note the sound of the mud as you fall shut.

(11:28-11:43 - Loosing Sparrow: Defining:)

11:43-12:35 - Self separation, duplication.

Unaware, you are heading to the Crows temple.

You find yourself floating effortlessly, inches above the muddy topsoil. Your vacant orbs are staring at the dark cloudy canopy watching wings retreat. Various birds are reeling and fleeing. However, the sound of crows beckon their dilution. One crow flies to you and perches on your chest. Staring at your shined pupils. It calls out a horrendous cry and you can feel your voice stripped from you. Then, all crows cry out. They are duplications, you surmise. Not one have a distinguishing demarcation. They are Thanatos. They are release.

12:35-13:24 - Face Three: Separation Waltz

This is your facial release. The crows begin to swarm, dancing in one finely executed swoop. They move forming a massive being. You no longer feel connection with anything. It is all filing out of your finger tips; long roads of nerve. You are twisted upright and a horrible spasm of thumping drives your form into an insane rage of movement. You have no regard for your limbs. They connect with whatever is around. You rip yourself to shreds on these trees; against their skin. All the while he and you dance.

Catatonic. Wordlessly.

13:24-13:42 - Time Template:

From no where in particular. From no one in particular:

The faint reconciliation before this trace dries up.
"You are not here anymore, y'know. Your time template has been tracked and cracked till all nothingness. Your previous self is unaccounted for. Your consciousness is to be used somewhere else, y'know. I might as well say: you will never know how, or when. You made us a promise. We made you no promise. I'm not sure if I am sorry or not. You commanded this, yes. I hope this choice is photosynthetic, alright?"

13:42-15:06 - Absolute Silence:

Discarding First Face. Disregard everything. You shouldn't need to remember this

lapse music

My Single entitled "Pillow" can be purchased for $ .70 online. When you purchase you will help me and a charity of my choice. The download is in the highest quality - 320 Kbps - it is also my favorite and best work.

Its a sort of ambient selection of glitch and breaks with a melody driven by guitar and piano work. Its a moment in my subconscious.

"Pillow was produced for a friend. She asked me to make her something to sleep to. I inspired myself with the slow and sometimes sudden transition into the subconscious dream state. We are all great travelers and our pillows are our vessels."

Download:
Indmill

[ More music planned for purchasable download soon ]

More here:

http://www.groundzeroprojects.com/prof ile/AloysiusRexford

Previous Entry:

http://aloysiusrexford.newgrounds.com/
news/post/237117

Continued:

The phone still rang out when you slammed it down. You tried your hardest to cancel the sound out. The man stared at you. He had the utmost patience in his stature as if he could wait forever. This reinforced your ideas that time didn't exist here. You thought that if time didn't exist here it surely must exist outside of here. This simple thought almost threw you into a state of panic. Outside of this place there surely must have been a cause for alarm. Then again, perhaps not. You didn't have much of a family to look after. You knew the few friends you had would surely be alright for a while. After so many missed calls they would surely check into things. At last, if a long amount of time outside of this place was passing, your landlord would surely look into your disappearance. You hoped this. Then again, what good would it really do? You, yourself had no idea how you got here. They surely would not. This upset you. You didn't show it but, it did. You tried not to feel alarmed. You tried to welcome this vacation of sorts. Unaware of how long you had been thinking you looked up from what you speculated could only be ground. You couldn't find your shadow in this place, it was hard to assess what you were even standing on, if you were standing on anything. You had the feeling of standing and that was all. You picked up the telephone and it made a hollow clunking sound when lifted from its handles.

With the phone pressed hard against the auricle of your ear you closed your eyes. You wished for a sort of 'higher knowledge' to grace your brain. You knew it wouldn't come. However, you thought that anything in this place just might be possible. 'Time' passed and you had nothing. Harder yet, you pressed the phone into your ear. It hurt. You wanted to be sucked inside the little holes that allowed sound to pass through. You wanted to be a sound wave and pass through to his phone and tell him the right answer. You licked your lips carefully and began,

"May i ask you a question before i answer?" you spoke out in a hopeful tone.

He blinked once and raised his head a bit in his upper class air.

"I will allow that. Continue. What is your question?" He wasted no air (assuming there was air here).

"How am i supposed to fill you with knowledge when i don't know what you know and how many tries do i get?"

He didn't quite answer right away, but nonetheless he answered rather quickly. His speed was more so masked at the interval at which his first couple of words where ran together, yet pronounced clearly.

"You pose a good point. Since i cannot transfer all my knowledge to you it is seemingly unfair. Things are not fair sometimes. You know that i have a fairly vast knowledge. I explained: it is nothing great, but i know things about a few subjects. To put it all rather vaguely. I will tell you this, though. You will have a few tries. If you tire me out then you will not win. I will let you know when I have had enough." He blinked once, his lids releasing slightly at different times, much like reptile. You couldn't see that though.

You almost stuttered a quick response back, but withheld your voice. A number of expletives formed in your head.

"Can we talk more before i tell you?" you asked.

He looked at you, almost cautiously, but you could be quite certain.

"Hm." he paused, "Yes."

You let out a breath of air.

"Where am I? What is this?" you asked in a fevered manner.

"This is everything and nothing." he responded quickly and vaguely.

A furrow scurried across your brow "OK. Then, does this place change?"

"Why, yes. Changes here can be subtle or brash. Really, its up to you."

"Can I make it change? I think it might help me if it was something different."

"What would you like to see?"

"Sky? Maybe some sun."

For a second you thought you saw him cringe with distaste. You weren't sure though. A twitch again? He was so still. You couldn't be sure. A silence continued as he seemingly thought about what he should do. Finally, after sorting it out, he agreed.

"Yes, as long as it helps you answer. I am in this as much as you are, you see. If you think of something too concrete this will not work. Try not to think of were you previously came from necessarily. It will not work otherwise and when you open your eyes you will still be standing here as we are. Focus on the simple details of what you want to see. You said 'sky'. You also said..." and a slight sneer pulled at his nostril as if the very word caused a pungent bacterial rot bellow his nose, "sun". He gave himself a nod as if to place the final period on his sentence. It was as if it was all very hard to say. "Whenever you are ready close your eyes tightly and think about your..." and he cleared his throat a bit "...sky".

Before he ended his sentence you had your eyes tightly shut. Shut so hard that the dark static produced from your tightly pulled muscles slowly formed a brilliant blue space. Etched here in this blue canvas were giant bubbling clouds. Their edges in sharp contrast with their background. They hung on the sky like fresh white linens. Below you a two inch mirror of water formed around your ankles and stretched as far as the horizon. When all color came to, you weren't sure if you had opened your eyes or if you still had them clasped closed. This was disorientating for a moment. it was like little theatrical puppet show of your dream. You would wake up but, only to find that you were still dreaming. You would wake up again, only to find yourself dreaming again. You're dreaming about dreaming about dreaming. This whole episode being played out in a mirror box and reflecting infinitely in compass directions.

You blinked your eyes once over. It felt real. You still couldn't manage to prove that to yourself though. With your eyes closed, you seemingly created the most tangible place of all. So real, that even upon opening them you weren't sure if they were really open. Like you submitted your mind elsewhere.

You went with it.

You didn't notice before - but now - the man from before was sitting in front of you in a white leather chair. It looked new. He was dressed in a full black tuxedo and a top hat for his crown. He had on his shoulder a small monkey holding a white umbrella that blended into the scenery behind. You thought to snicker at his tenacious luxury but, held it in. A stark shadow crossed his face from his hat and the position of the sun filtering through that umbrella. From behind his thick shadow he spoke to you, and you saw one corner of his mouth writhing around.

"Is this better?" He said into the telephone from before. They had not moved. The only change was that you could see one long system of telephone poles stretching for miles until your eyes couldn't grab. these poles were incidentally enough hooked up to the two white rotary phones. You had no idea if that's how it worked. You didn't really bother with logical, working, physical objects anymore.

You nodded but, you didn't really affirm 'thanks' in your mind. It was just something you expected should happen.

"Yeah. I guess." you said almost nonchalantly while peering out at nothing in the symmetrical horizon. As much as you wished it were real. This place. You kept repeating through your mind the various inconsistencies. You could hardly feel any weather here. You couldn't feel the intensity of the sun or the cool feeling of the water. It felt off. It was like everything was wrapped up in a cotton ball. It was this all muffled. It was sort of like the feeling you got when you watched film. You would repeat over and over: This is all supposed and fake. You never really suspended your belief and soon you could see through most acting. Or rather, you didn't trust it. Real or acted.

Finally, you spoke,"You said it would be fatal if i didn't answer to your unknown standards. How?"

With no wasted effort his lips parted slowly, "Perhaps a friend? Or Relative? Maybe even yourself?"

You heaved out air like some tempered fourteen year old with nothing better to reply with. Time lapsed and the clouds still didn't seem to even thinking about moving across the sky.
"Really? What if i told you that I honestly could care less? As far as I'm concerned I could be dead right now. None of this makes any sense y'know. Why should i care to appeal to your search for some random knowledge? I really don't care what happens. If i answer wrong. Or if i answer right. In the end, what does it even matter? Why should you care about any of this? Why is this happening to me?"

The man seemed to have cleared some hair from his forehead. Maybe sweat? No, you doubted that. You watched him adjust his hat like it'd be the last time he'd be wearing it. Slow, subtle movements as if the sun was setting muscle atrophy in motion.
"Hm. That was quite the sequence of questions. Almost morbid. You speak objectively, yes? I would hope you do not actually mean those things. I can assure you that you are not 'dead right now'. This is no sort of purgatory, heaven, or hell. It all makes perfect sense. I am here in your infrastructure. I never told you that you had to appeal to anything. The choices is up to you. However, you and myself are far more linked then you might imagine. 'In the end, what does it even matter'? You pose a familiar question, there." He raised his voice now, as if miming my words out exaggeratedly in segments, to the clouds, "In the end! What!? Does it even matter...It is hard to say. I don't think any one person really knows. Yet, inside themselves they hold onto their own simple philosophy. Do you want to 'make the world a better place'? Live for humanity? Be blessed with all the riches you can imagine? Find a God? See the world? Fix the atrocities of this world? Follow your passion even if it rewards little but your simplistic happiness." He stopped a moment as if to let me take in what he said or, maybe he was waiting for my interjection.

You decided to speak.
"Yeah, the world is your oyster m'boy! But, what is outside of the oyster, hm?" You spoke with a theatrical flair.

He thought about that for a while, most likely with a raised brow, then started, "We always want more. Like a dog chasing a car. What would we do or think if we got to the theoretical 'end'?" and he stopped for an answer, if you had one.

"I don't know what would happen if we got to 'the end'. Everything else around us has 'ends'. Books, movies, games, life and death. You ever try and wonder about the life the people portrayed in a movie would lead after the movie rolls its credits - back to normality? Especially in one of those flicks that 'leave you hanging' at the end' - then again, those movies are probably more like life. You mocked the people behind the movie, "Ah, maybe we'll come back to it, but'ah, no big deal, really. Let'em use their imagination!" You saw the man in the black top hat reach for words, but you came back with more.
"You know, i hate it when you say 'i just want something normal' and then the other person goes 'yeah, well, what is normal?' Is normal what we've seen through various media? Is that what we all strive for? Pre-conceived notions on life? You think creativity has an end? Do you think everything ends at some point?" You spoke sporadically, as if hit with some process of divine thought. You weren't quite sure what you meant at some point. You had a meaning, but you felt like you jumbled it up far too much to really decipher.

The pistol is shot. The runners jolt up. Their minds are set on milliseconds - on an end. Towards a triumph, a victory. The billions of physical responses from all the tiny cells in their bodies working in unison. Each and every human being is a giant infrastructure for the working eukaryotes to move a whole object. Like the plates of earth we all smash into each other causing various results.

"That's going to be my first try." you said the last few words carefully, still collecting your thoughts. "Everything has to end sometime, right?" The more you repeated it to the man in the top hat the more you wanted to withdraw it. you added the saying of, "matter can neither be destroyed or created. If that was the case", and you thought, then said, "maybe there isn't a phenomenal end. Perhaps the things that don't really matter - end. Like the little 'God parts' written inside of us we create little worlds with creativity. In a piece of music. In a film. A book. As the bible suggests 'we were created in his image' or however the line goes, i don't know it exactly, I'm not into all that, really. We create. We end. We control. Even the bible has plenty of interpretations by other people, rewrites of sorts. A 'translation'. Perhaps our world is a reflection of what we all really want? A definitive end? I mean, even if we were to find out that everything is infinite, that is an end, yes? The Bible ends. The Sun ends. The earth will end, eventually. Do we want to talk to ourselves? Take a book for example. Its one author writing out parts for everyone. Essentially, a conversation with himself? Everything perfectly executed even if its in an imperfect situation. How quaint it all happens with such passion and meaning. In our heads we want that 'perfect girl', right? Isn't that generally a basis on who we are as people? Its all rather selfish isn't it?" By now you weren't even sure what you said or if it had any valid importance. You just carried on. You just realized why.

You packed your questions tightly together and they melted like some canned fish. For some reason everything suddenly felt insignificant. Your bones too, felt like mush as you stood there in the sky. You felt like the final thoughts a whale had before it dried up on some sand somewhere.

[ Stop. I'll add more again. Perhaps. I don't know how i feel about this segment, i'll probably add changes to it - mainly to what the character says at the end. . I don't know how i feel about my writing in general. This is pretty unedited. Its a flow. The picture is Salar De Uyuni, Bolivia, the most beautiful place i have ever seen, wet or dry - in pixels.]

I'm going to stand as myself and you're going to stand as yourself. Beside either of us are simple rotary telephones. These phones seem sessile and give no indication to how long they've been here or if they've ever decided to collect and do away with dust. They don't ring out to us. They wait atop their simple, opaque, dark stain.

For the standard sake of background mechanics everything is watercolor in a palette of gradient brown and recedes into very dark brown shadows where physical space cannot be detected. The only change in shade, warmth or tone is the lean of feathered light that seems to come from no particular source but what seems to represent a 'wall' - which seems to hold a 'window' - that is if walls or windows are even a part of 'here'.

With no memory of how you got 'here' you could only assume you simply materialized in this space. All your atoms and their apprehended and yet undiscovered features collected here beside this table - this phone. Your carbon-based form simply is and you don't really bother stumbling over the semantics.

Ahead of you, or what you perceive as 'ahead of you' through simple differences in 'light' and 'dark' shades another form stands. He is presumably standing as far as you can tell. He certainly doesn't look as if he's falling, or stumbling or really moving at all. He is still, all but the delicate blink of eyelids. From this distance you can hear the light teary mucus 'click' once the eyes snap back towards the individual's brow.

Or, maybe its your own lids. Sound here was difficult to perceive. Far off, as if bouncing from grey, dry walls that were set against an almost equally grey winter cloud scape. Each being angled in various directions while hovering over light ocean waves. Waves which didn't have very much character to them...It was much like the philosophy behind fun house mirrors.

In such a stillness you were susceptible to mental fill-ins. You almost ached to see movement and couldn't be sure if a such a twitch was filled in. There! It had to have happened. Somewhere his index finger was thoughtfully tied to a marionette's string. It tugged ever so gently as if it was calling out to you. You were a fish and you put this thought in the front of your mind to form an edge over your 'fill-ins'. The blinking no longer satisfied you and you almost took a step forward before a distant 'RING...RING...RING" was heard as the bell was stirred awake but the initial thought of stepping forward. The mechanism rattled in its steady distant pulse.

You couldn't tell who's creme colored telephone had been disturbed. The person across from you wasn't showing even the slightest effort to construct the thoughts needed to guide his hand to the receiver. So you shifted your posture a bit towards the table and lifted the receiver from its metal handles. When you looked back up to the individual across the seeming immeasurable distance his phone was ready at his ear.

"Why?"

The question was formed in a parched voice like wind and sand pressed against limestone. You licked over the 'greeting' in your temporal lobe like a bad cut. Yet, thats as far as it reached. You simply heard. There was no further mental processing that began after that, even though you tried. It stuck with you like a deep sea anemone - Its arms outstretched and searching to fill you with neurotoxins.

Your voice, finally retched forth like some abominable stench and slipped into the little holes in the mouthpiece. The only sample of yourself you could hear was it being played out of the other end of his telephones earpiece. You weren't even quite sure what came out and more likely than not it was probably some assorted grunt or whisper and in your own ears you could hear it. Not in the traditional sense, though, more like feel the vibrations as whatever was opened from your trachea reverberated through your skull.

There was a pause on the other end. It was one you could hear and feel - maybe 10 seconds. With one blink and an almost vacant stare he simply stated again as if his previous voice in all its intonations and sound was simple played back on replay:

"Why?"

This time you didn't process it. You wanted to snap back in physical response. Yet, you couldn't.

"Why what?" you say into the mouthpiece with a hint of annoyance trailing behind...

This time he didn't take time to respond, but almost as in the same annoyed tone as yours. Almost as if it was your voice he states a clearer answer to your question as if he was expecting himself to have to say it back to you. Much like a child reiterating "why" to each solution to each problem and answer given.

"I want you to fill me with a certain knowledge." His lips fit into every syllable. A clear pronunciation of each letter. " I am a man of knowledge, sure. However, it is nothing grand or elegant to speak of and rather simple with certain topics i may prevail in. I want your words to be interesting and I would rather not hear something cheeky such as 'one plus one equals two'. I don't want to know your name or your age. In fact, i really don't want to know anything about you unless its staggeringly interesting in every since of the word. I don't want you to tell me the nominal truth behind Iceland and Greenland. I want to hear something thought provoking. I want to hang up this telephone and not know how to respond to you. Just like the feeling you got when i initially asked 'why?'. I might also add that failure to accumulate something of worth may be fatal. Do you understand this request?"

As soon as sharp edges of air formed the 'st' of his last word, the synapses of your brain fired off a response. You thought to say "No, i don't understand this request" and in your mind you had mocked it in your own voice exactly as he said. Like a sweet cherry candy you rolled around the word "fatal". Time seemed to have lapsed, but you couldn't really tell and what pushed forth was:

" ... "

[ I don't feel like writing anymore and i probably kept switching to present / past tense because i always do that when i write in present tense - anyone want to contribute? Or rather. If you want. I want you to respond to the man. Or rather, me. I want you to tell me something interesting. Some form of knowledge you hold inside your long term memory. I want you to 'fill me in' on something i might not know anything about. Something maybe your pretty familiar with. Or maybe even just some random 'factoid' you came across. I don't even care if you look something interesting up after reading this. Enlighten me. loosely put - teach me. What do you say? What would you say? ]

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Ametsub : Linear Cryptics

Recommend tracks:

All of them

"Iceberg In Fog" - Brian Kosoff - Check him out. Inspiration for the song: "Letters from an Iceberg"