Absence makes the heart cry murder...

For lack of a better one - and therein lack of a proper rhyme! - the above is the title to today's post.

I've been absent from my blogs for a while now. Not that anyone really cares, for that matter, but I always return. What that says about my character, I'd rather not ponder.

These are six word stories. In a trend (I guess?) started by Mr. Hemingway himself at someone else's request, I have stolen these 6 word stories from several different spots (WIRED) and hand picked the one's that I found to be particularly appealing to me.

Will I indulge myself and attemp such a feat as managing to ecompass a story with a mere 6 words? I doubt it. After all, Hemingway did call his personal confection his "best work ever". Surely, from all the mini-stories below, you'll find his to be the most striking of all.

"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."
- Ernest Hemingway

We went solar; sun went nova.
- Ken MacLeod

Lie detector eyeglasses perfected: Civilization collapses.
- Richard Powers

I’m dead. I’ve missed you. Kiss … ?
- Neil Gaiman

I’m your future, child. Don’t cry.
- Stephen Baxter

It cost too much, staying human.
- Bruce Sterling

Epitaph: Foolish humans, never escaped Earth.
- Vernor Vinge

Wasted day. Wasted life. Dessert, please.
- Steven Meretzky


Vacuum collision. Orbits diverge. Farewell, love.
- David Brin

Longed for him. Got him. Shit.
- Margaret Atwood

His penis snapped off; he’s pregnant!
- Rudy Rucker

From torched skyscrapers, men grew wings.
- Gregory Maguire

New genes demand expression -- third eye.
- Greg Bear

Batman Sues Batsignal: Demands Trademark Royalties.
- Cory Doctorow

Heaven falls. Details at eleven.
- Robert Jordan

God to Earth: “Cry more, noobs!”
- Marc Laidlaw

I saw, darling, but do lie.
- Orson Scott Card

Weeping, Bush misheard Cheney’s deathbed advice.
- Gregory Maguire

Dorothy: "Fuck it, I'll stay here."
- Steven Meretzky


Have at you, fargnaglets!

Nice things....

All Things Pointless

All things pointless
All things stale
All things rotten, moldy and pale

All things poignant
All things fresh
All things great and magnificent

All things pointless
All things wail
All things whine and bruise and grow cold

All things wither
All things brittle
All things fade and wash away

Friends

They all deride
They all erode
They all debase me

Paranoia is a reflection of reality
Depression a byproduct of banality
Obsession a sparkle of insanity
Schizoid-ness a staple of triviality

They all plot and slander
They all cackle and scheme
They all smell of the grave
As they suckle their dream

I am bleeding profusely
Myriad gashes and wounds
A mosaic of flagellation
To whet the stone

Looping process of tedium
As the prophets of gloom ensue
They let me build up slowly
To swiftly bring me down anew

Do I, too, fall to the sway of this rhythm
That makes us all bastards and finks?


Song of the post

Title: Mosquito Song

Album: Songs for the Deaf

Artist: Queens of the Stone Age



I know, I know the sun is hot
Mosquitos come suck your blood
Leave you there
All alone just skin and bone
When you walk among the trees
Listening to the leaves
The further I go the less I know
The less I know

Where will you run?
Where will you hide?
Lullabies
To paralyze

Fat and soft, pink and weak
Foot and thigh, tongue and cheek
You know I'm told they swallow you whole
Skin and bone
Cutting boards and hanging hooks
Bloody knives, cooking books
Promising you won't feel a thing
At all

Swallow and chew
Eat you alive
All of us food that hasn't died
And the light says

Somehow they pick and pluck
Tenderize bone to dust
The sweetest grease, finest meat you'll ever taste
Taste, taste
So you scream, whine, and yell
Supple sounds of dinner bells
We all will feed the worms and trees So don't be shy

Swallow and chew
Eat you alive
All of us food that hasn't died

Listless Grey Ensues

Listening to Dispossession by Katatonia… the first chords evoke memories of my first days at the old room in my mum’s house. Heartbroken and seemingly in love with my miserable state; positively intoxicated with the lingering gloom that made those days – in hindsight – ever so significant.

How different, the sadness that plagued me then, and yet so similar. Tired of feeling, tired of caring, tired of having little choice but to live through my emotions. Tired of myself. The same yet not, for seemingly different reasons, of the same nature.

I feel broken and disheartened. Reasons for joy marred by irrational idiocy of those I have – perhaps feebly – deemed worthy of my love.

Trying not to turn into self-hatred, as I would back then. I’m not that stupid anymore. No. I’m just unbelievably tired. Drained. Dead.

I’m in a vicious cycle of my own devising; the gears of this mechanism rusting into a prison of contempt.

Linger as the dead do, I wish I could. Linger as a brown, withered leaf adrift on running water, at the mercy of the currents and content to go swiftly to my compost heap.

Holographic?

Am I now becoming awake?
Am I now picking from out the air
The very essence of the divine?
The hidden is revealed, I sense,
In finding center in my self
Within, without, withal
To see and not see
Be and not be
Be alive.

What senses avail me mean all
Yet nothing
What imagination avails me…
That is questionable at best
But wherefore do I sense this now?
Is it the need for peace,
That need for balance,
That propels me ever forward in the same place?
Perhaps in all directions at once
Never leaving on point in the universe.
In one, all is found.

Dare I dream?
Or is dreaming counterproductive?
Be at peace
Be at ease
Be as nothing

I'm a Liger!?

Incoherence Thurz

Worming through the icy ground
Fertile infertile; gagged and bound
Evening crawls like so many scarabs
On the skin of the vestal scab
Taste it on your lips anon
Like the sentient soma
Abridging the aether in the act
Of hiding in the open forgotten facts
Soothsayer, clairvoyant
Can you read my mind from lofty heights?
Can you see my soul without fright?
Dare you?

Infantile
Facsimile
Asinine
Florid
Break me off a piece of lurid
Hoard it in the small of your back
Let it fester in the dark
Bring out for joyous occasions
Bring it out, for dark liaisons

Resolve
Obstinate
Obdurate
Opportune
Play on me another tune

Sleepless

Sleepless
No whispers, no noises, no pain
No anger, no sadness, no strain

Pointless
This rising each morning to
Become but a speck in the blue

Sleepless
Dreaming the dreary dreams
Pulling at the tattered seams