Cricklewood Personified

Cricklewood is a town, and a family.  There is the general store, who is the mother that provides for her children.  She gives them food, and clothes, and medicine.  She doesn’t turn them away, even when she should.  That’s a mother for you, but the father, he is the law of the house.  He is the court, the judge, and the jury; passing judgment upon his brood sternly and without emotion.  He towers above the town reminding the children to obey his rules.  His sternness is only tempered by an uncle, a “brother” in fact.  He is the Church and believes in the goodness of people and their temperance.  He looks through rose colored glasses and sees untainted people.  But only one person sees the people truly.  An old man, the jail, he has sat in that square since Cricklewood was founded.  He has seen good men come and bad men go, both with the passing of years.  They all stand in the square looking in at the children, wondering what will happen next. Personified

Be Nice to Babies!

The other day I turned in a short story called "The Changeling," and today it was returned to me(I will post it at a later date).  Looking at the comments I noticed a large amount of red ink on the last page.  Well it was an interesting comment, " This is too creepy... I'm mad at you... >:( Be nice to babies!" 
I must say I burst out laughing, and called over my teacher to have him explain.  Well it turns out he likes my story and thinks it was well written, but he just happens to have two babies at home.  I don't think I will end up baby sitting for that teacher anytime soon.

Edits

Edit... Edit...Edit.  Sometimes I have the unfortunate displeasure of editing my own or a friends writing.  I despise editing, I am an atrocious speller and am bad at written grammar, well I can write my own stories well, but I can't find others mistakes.
Editing shows what a person thinks of your piece as well and can feel like a personal attack on your writing.  Someone may say that they dislike how my character speaks, or they dislike my topics.  Intellectually I know they are just trying to help, but emotionally I feel as though they dislike my piece.  This is why I am generally reluctant to show my writing to people.  I wish editing wasn't such a pain.  I wish it wasn't a pain from both sides of the paper.

The Purpose of Art

Art is one of the most debated subjects in our society.  Many people postulate that art has an innate purpose.  I do not perceive a purpose, and I am an artist.  When I create a piece of art I do it because it fulfills a need.  Some may say that it's fulfillment, is it's purpose, but I just enjoy it, somethings can just be done.  It is existential, meaning it exists simply to exist.  When I make a piece of art to express an idea, it is not to express it to someone else, but to help myself understand an abstract concept.
Many people will argue on what is art?  Is Mein Kampf art, it is a work of literature, and literature is art?  I believe that if one person anywhere in the world considers it art, then it becomes art.  Our perception changes the nature of the thing.  Our perception make it art.  A thing by itself cannot be art without someone to see it.  Art, rather the object itself is purposeless and in the words of Oscar Wilde "useless."

"Life is a Cold Black Stone"

Life is a black falling stone,
That move through the cold air,
And hits the ground only to be forgotten,
The hungry Earth swallows the stone,
Mixing it with all the lifeless stones,
That have fallen before it.

Haiku's of a Random Nature

Small dancing creatures,
Butterfly's fall from tree,
Earth swallows whole.

Skin like silken sheets,
Powerful and yet tender
Flash and it is gone.

Shut your mouth and kiss,
Open your body to me,
Open your heart, love.

Cut the meat and cook,
Customer wants medium,
Tell them we do rare!!

Falling like a stone,
Pieces of glass fall with me,
Defenestration.

Monk waters tree,
Metal death cuts down beauty,
Now tears water tree.

"A Creepers and Creeped Sonnet"

I smelt your nice soft hair as you slept,
Oh Jesus Christ where did you get a key,
I was watching and found where it was kept,
Oh my, a stalker you must really be.

Stalker is a word keeping us apart,
A restraining order will do that too,
Nothing will keep me from feeling your heart,
Hello police? Help he's got a pool cue!

I'm coming for you, you beautiful doll,
I see him now he is cutting the phone,
I know where you sleep, 3rd door on the hall,
Help someone help I hear his dreadful poem.

Now I have found you, now I'm, really bored,
Really? Really? that's it, bugger you lord.

"An Anal Retentive Language"

The English language is anal retentive,
the whole thing seems somewhat inventive,
I try and I try,
but it just makes me cry,
it seem I must be more attentive.

Flash Fiction "Open Chest Chester"

"Chester why is your chest open?"
This question echoed through the  room and in the empty chest cavity.  Organs in jars on the wall and a needle and thread in hand.
"Well I got bored stuffing animals..."
His words trailed off as the idea reentered his brain.  The gears began turning, and the light bulb in his head went on.  His face was filled with the kind of hilarity that you get when you realize you forgot to turn the computer on, and you've been on the line with tech support for two hours.  Then his face froze with the same realization that you've just broken your 20,000 dollar computer.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time..."

College

College searching is one of the more stressful things to do. First you look at the common GPA of students attending that school.  Your soul begins to cry as you see that 75% of the freshman had GPA's of 3.5 or higher.  Then you move on to tuition, this makes your brain bleed as look at the 25,000$ tuition fee for one year.  This is one of the lower tuition's for colleges I'm looking at.  Simply put college searching is a task not for the faint of heart.  I myself am a smart person, I love to read wright and research.  But my school career has been hindered by various medical problems, so I am behind on credits, and have a low GPA, I estimate 2.5. Hopefully my essays and SAT scores will save my application.  I know that I will most likely go to my state school which accepts most people and has a good scholarship program.  But I want to know that I tried to go somewhere new, although a nearly free state school does give me time to figure out what I want to do.

Veritas

Veritas is Latin for truth.  Truth, unmitigated truth is something most of us desire, we would like to know what people actually think, or at least, I would.  Anyway the truth although coveted, is something that can hurt you.  Learning nick names like "whiny bitch" and that some of your closest friend dislike you.  Personally I would like to hear the truth from my friends not from a third party, but sadly I was not so lucky  If you think that someone is lying to you it is very likely that they are.  For months I was paranoid that my friends were intentionally avoiding me, now I think I was right.  I read people well, their body language, their faces, the way they speak it all tells me things.  It tells me bad things, people rarely hide nice thoughts, it is something that just doesn't happen.  Think about it, all those fake smiles, those eyes turned down and away, those feet pointed towards the door, and those arm crossed.  All these things tell the truth, they tell more truth than I have ever heard from anyone's mouth.  The tongue can lie, but the body, the body cannot.

Adolfo

Whilst drinking my English breakfast tea in the back of The Flying Star cafe, I motioned for a buser to taker my plate. I asked him to please take my plate then thanked him for it.  He was placing the dishes in the tub when I asked him how his evening was going.  He stopped and looked at me for a second, I am guessing no one had ever asked him that before, I think I am the only one to tell him please or thank you as well.  I am not surprised no one had asked him before because this cafe is a bit posh and expensive, I just get tea or a pastry so they don't kick me out.  Any way he told me that it was really slow for a Friday night and that he wished it was faster, because that made the time go by quicker.  Tonight they are open till 12 am and then he stays an hour after to clean.  Then when he leave around 1 am he goes to his second job down the road at a local tavern working in the kitchen.  I was feeling bad for the guy and then I felt more so when I heard he had five children.  Three boys and two girls ranging from 17 to 3. His wife is working all the time and he is working just as much if not more.  But he is happy to be here in Albuquerque, he has been here for nine years and it is a big Improvement from his home town of Delicias, Chihuahua Mexico.  After a few more pleasantries he asked my name and I asked his, his name is Adolfo and he buses tables and cooks food for those more fortunate than he.  I am glad to have met him and hope to talk to him more at a later date.  But think, I probably wouldn't have talked to him if it wasn't a slow night and I hadn't ordered a cup of tea that he cleared away.  Most of us just look right through these people, but we shouldn't, so here's to you Adolfo

1984 by George Orwell

The year 1984 has long since past, yet the message of the book will last far into the future.  Free thought is the power which rulers fear, and Orwell explains that perfectly.  Although the writing style can be hard to come to terms with, it is rather effective in conveying it's message.  Orwell's use of powerful imagery paints a picture in the mind of a totalitarian community manipulated by a faceless dictator "Big Brother."  "War is peace slavery is freedom ignorance is strength," this iconic aphorism expresses a fundamental truth about life as a human being. When the country is united against a common enemy is country is at piece. If your choices are made for you then your mind is unburdened, it believes it is free.  Those who are dumb are strong because they believe in what they do and fallow it blindly.  Truth is powerful and sad, humans can be manipulated to the point of domestication.  One must keep and free mind, and think for one's self.  This is what furthers society and makes the world a enjoyable place to live.  1984 is a joy to read despite being a tad creepy, I recomend it to anyone interested in free thought and the power of the human mind. This book changed my life in that I became aware of myself and what the world is.

Tea Fixes Everything

Some day's as you sit in your house you just look at the world, and think, what's the point.  I know this feeling well, today I was knitting and nothing was going right.  I dropped a stitch, I knit when I should have purled, and my favorite slacks got ripped as I mounted my bike.  But after I got through the cold and the sweaty pain I reached The Yarn Store.  I made myself a cup of tea and my body just relaxed.  The world seemed to melt away and all I knew was the taste of black tea with milk and sugar hitting my tongue.  Some how things just seemed to look up.  My knitting is doing well I am feeling strong and I am looking forward to the rest of the day. I know that tea will always make my life a little bit better.

My Pen

This is an object narrative I wrote for class about my pen.

Being a pen I know what people think and write at all times.  Now I know at this moment you are contemplating the irony of a pen typing a story, well sometimes one wants to change it up a little.  Anyway you may be wondering how a pen knows this man’s name.  Well, I see it every day.  I see him write his name Chev and Chevalier.  When he writes his name Chevalier I know this document is official so I try to do my best to make his writing look pretty.  Sometimes though I enjoy making his hand writing look like scribbles, I do this to punish him for dropping me.  I love my job and Chev helps me to do that job, I have learned much from being in his company.

            We pens learn Language very quickly from the persons who use us, and through language we learn many different Ideas.  For instance Chev will sometimes use me in the middle of the night to jot down some note for a story or poetry.  On one occasion, late at night, I learned about the Romani.  Chev was writing a story which included the Romani, he included facts about their culture and even his experiences with Rom.  I so enjoy helping Chev write stories, but some days we must write school work, this is very boring I can tell by the way Chev holds me.  He doesn’t write as passionately as he does when he is writing stories.  Although stories aren’t the only thing Chev likes to write, he also enjoys writing philosophy.  For instance just the other day I was reading his ideas on Good and Evil.  Apparently he was reading the bible, I could tell this because he has never mentioned details about it this much in a paper before.  I learned about the Old Testament and how the idea of punishment and reward are very different then New Testament ideas of punishment and reward.  I learn so much reading his work. 

            When I read Chev’s work I sometimes try to help edit it.  If I notice he has spelled something wrong, which he does often, I may blot ink over his misspellings.  Chev gets rather cross with me when I blot ink on his work.  I don’t blame him, but sometimes it must be done. Take for instance when he writes thank you notes.  Chev always tries to write thank you notes to people, but sometimes I find that he hasn’t expressed himself well so I may slip or drip on the note.  He then proceeds to start over, I am sure if he knew I was doing this he would be very grateful.  Maybe he might send me a thank you note, one of his with the wax seal on the front, I see those when I write the address on the note.

            All in all I am fond of Chev Quispiam, he allows me to do what I love.  He keeps me clean and in perfect working order.  I would tell you more about what he writes, but I feel he may be cross if I tell you, so I suppose you will just have to see for yourself, I imagine he will use me a lot to write for you class.

The Death of Books

Reading, reading is one of the most joyous things  on this planet.  It allows you to escape into a world of fantasy and wonder.  But alas, in this modern era many people, especially younger persons, tend not to read books.  Instead they read facebook statuses, and curtailed news articles.  Is reading a book still important in this modern era, or is the age of books dying? I myself find it impossible to let go of books, there is nothing like feeling the coarse pages of a well written book, while you are snuggled into a chair on a cold winters night.  Of course few of us do that on a regular basis, but the point is the same, books give a very different experience than the computer does.  Books need no power source and can be read near anywhere. So I ask you my non-existent audience, are books still important to you?