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Archives November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
September 2006

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Farewell

Farwell to my fallen comrades in arms. We weren't fighting a war for justice, peace or freedom – we were fighting just to live – to survive. We feel too deeply, love too hard, walk with the sorrow of one thousand sunsets and look mournfully upon it’s daily rising armed with knowledge that one thousand more will pass and still we will carry our swords and our scars. We fight our battle based on intellect and empathy against an amorphous entity. It grows and changes, turning youth into soldiers – leaving behind it a wake of bodies without souls. Souls that were too wounded to go on winning – wasted by the burden of their plight. Wealthy deserters and conscientious defectors they call us. We abandoned them, they scream. We took our talents and our skill and hid them away and in that they are right but it was not for deprivations sake – it was for survival for it is only our talents and our skills that are of interest. They care not for how deeply we feel or how intimately we understand. They cannot comprehend and refuse to try the impact of 10,000 screams. The mind is a miraculous entity. It heals – it carries – it builds walls and war zones. It contains memories and holds hostage that pain that only a truly powerful mind can know and when it can no longer sustain the blows, there is no outcry – only the adage that it is a fine line between genius and insanity. Where we know that in truth, there is no line. Genius breeds insanity in a world where our talents are demanded of us as payment for oxygen and our protests are heard as condescension. And so I make another tribute to my fallen comrades – another shot glass on the mantle - and I unsheathe my sword for the sake, not of myself, but of the little boy who carries their legacy.

“I don’t think you trust in my self-righteous suicide.
I cry when angels deserve to die.”

For the record, death has not cleaned up your reputation any. You’re still a piece of shit, King. Moreso, now that you left the rest of us to do your dirty work and clean up your mess.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Welcome to Soul Fragments

Several months ago, HPFF opened an Original Fiction archive that I admin. As it stands, I still haven't posted a single thing there.

So after much pestering from a lot of people who are more than used to kicking my ass into writing, this project was begun.

Welcome, in short, to Soul Fragments. The project is a mess of sorts - a combination of things I wrote on purpose and things I rambled into existence. The intention, in the end, is to use all fo these bits to devleop a cohesive piece - without losing the rawness of "in the moment."