The Flying Ship

The Flying Ship

Sunday, October 30, 2011

A Gift That Cannot Be Returned

In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king.

But is he? Can he really see? Can he really understand? What is colour without words to express it?

Would he not simply just pretend he is also blind? Would he not be confused, depressed, alone?

Would he not be a freak, reviled by those who envy him, decreed as mad, as bad, as disturbed?

Gifts from our creator are complex. A man I knew once told me that what God gave him was a gift that he must take whole heartedly, without either fear or regret. He said I must do the same with my gifts, as must we all.

He died of that tumor. But I think he may have been right.



Saturday, October 29, 2011

Plaster Caster.

And so it was that I discovered that I must change, or I must die. I also knew that I had gone so far, and changed so much.

And if I were to still live, I would become a thing I would find unrecognizable from the glassy pane of my morning cast of light. A thing that while not necessarily worse, certainly alien and disheartening.

This is why death exists. It comes for us when change is no longer possible. For the world will change without us, and we adore and loathe it for such cruel wonder.

Die, And Please Stay Dead.




"I could say that I will not be fooled,
(not by you, not again) but all the world knows that is a lie"

- Bartholomew Dutch.

I paid good money to watch you die,
I paid my full, fair share. 
I sold my watch so I could see you die,
But you just didn't care. 

You lived anyway, you insult me with life.
You dwelt where I knew you would, 
You sung and played your bamboo fife, 
Because you knew you could. 

I hated you, I staked you alive,
Over and over again. 
On your face, such a look of surprise,
Over and over to spend. 

I stood in the crowd, or at your side, 
I looked on from above, beneath,
But each and every time you died,
You crawled back with your nails and teeth. 

Have we not fought long enough? 
Have we not seen and felt so much? 
Die now, die now, state my final thirst.
It is either you or I, and I will not go first.


Friday, October 14, 2011

How To Become A Werewolf.

The idea that a human being could transform into an animal is a myth that has resisted extinction for thousands of years.  Even today there persists in some cultures the belief that werewolves and other such supernatural creatures could exist. Although, it is the writer's humble opinion they are nutters.

The Frog Princess, A typical and well known example of non-voluntary animal transmogrification in folk tales. 
While there are many different types of shape shifters, werewolves and other such things, they are generally divided into two types, Voluntary and Forced (or Non-voluntary). 

The forced transformation can be induced by being cursed with evil magic, drinking water from a werewolf's paw mark in the earth, or being bitten by a werewolf. After this happens, depending on the tale, you will transform into a werewolf every full moon for the rest of eternity until your curse is broken. You will have no power to control yourself while in animal form, and you will seek the blood of innocents (Children, maidens and men of God) to devour and kill. Seemingly sluts and jerks get off scott free. Awesome! 

However while there is forced animal transformation, there is also voluntary transformation. In some stories the werewolves or shape changers are given cloaks or 'Girdles' of animal skin from their masters in hell, when they clothe themselves in these garments they will transform into a wolf or other animal. At other times, there are families of people that can elect to change into animals, and many mythical users of magic have been able to transmogrify, at will, into various animals, a common theme being that they each have a particular personality trait(s) that corresponds to the animal they morph into. 

The forced animal transformation, particularly under the light of a full moon, is a metaphor for the wild, deranged animal we keep buried within us, and when the luna rise occurs, the lunatic is free. This curse is an imprisonment, and was a reaction to people being confused that a kind, good individual could become a madman or a animal in other circumstances.  It is representative of the bestial traits we hate and abborre: Ferocity, stupidity, lust, hunger for violence and weakness of body and mind. 

Conversely, the voluntary animal transformation is one of freedom and letting go of stuffy human limitation. The practice is enjoyed by the practitioners, it is representative of the bestial traits we admire: Strength, nobility, sexual prowess and above all, freedom. 

Animals have always transfixed humans, they have revolted and awed us with their abilities, it is not surprising that we have both longed to become like them and shuddered at the thought of losing our humanity to the ways of the beast. 


Being A Person


People are complex, there is no one thing we are. And people are simple, we are all the same.

Many people struggle with their multi-nature. How can a kind man hit his wife? How can a malevolent dictator be a vegetarian? How can a smiling school-girl be a closet slut? How can a drug abusing athlete be a caring mother? How can charismatic leader of peace be a terrible father?

Being a 'man' is something that is generally considered to be important. Particularly 'your own man'.

I am not my own man, and I never will be. Or perhaps, I am my own man and I always have been. It is my opinion that I am both. But quite honestly, it doesn't even matter, not to me, not to anyone.

The only people it matters to are the people who ask, 'Am I what I should be? Why am I these other things?'.

We have many sides as people. Sometimes we are mature, sometimes we aren't. Sometimes we are good, (whatever that means) sometimes otherwise.

All we need to do, is try, and if you are the kind to do so, hope, that you be whatever you need to be, when you need to be.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

There Isn't Really A Reason For It.



It's just easy. And I like the colour. And it makes me feel cool. 

Monday, October 10, 2011

Dimensions And Their Mystery.



Tonight I am going to tell you about dimensions.

Important
When I say 'dimension' you may think of something else which is an 'Alternate reality'.
Example: A world like this one, but for that traffic lights are purple, the people who are cool use a Mango computer, and the people who care about computers use a Doors computer. I have short hair and Dave wants to be a submariner. THAT is an alternate reality, not an alternate dimension (which as a term in of itself is slightly nonsensical). Also that concept is highly theoretical (In layman’s terms, it's not real).

A dimension is (more or less) the reality we exist in, divided into parts. Crazy scientist guys think that there may be over ten dimensions, but humans can perceive (and therefore name) only about three and a half.

Those are:

Length:

A line has length. It exists from point A to point B. It exists in one dimension.

Width:

A square has length and width. It exists in two dimensions.

Height:

A cube has length, width and height. It exists in three dimensions.

Now this is all probably quite familiar to you. This next part probably isn't though.

Time:
A tesseract has length, width, height, and a presence in time. It is the third wacky do-dad in the image above. It is to cube as cube is to square.

Time is the last dimension that humans can perceive, and with special training understand almost wholly.

The ultimate point of this is the question, what does the fifth dimension contain? We must exist in it, but we cannot see, feel, or think it up.

What else exists we cannot know? What mysteries float around us, unknown and unknowable? What strangeness do we breathe in daily?

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Green Like Sadness.

There is no colour sadder than green.

The green of diminishing.
The diminishing of green?

The green of the summer lake,
The green of an envious friend,
The green of a sick complexion.
The green of dying, not yet death.
The green of the butterfly I dream I am.
The green of my Dad's old chair.
The green of a distant friend, never met, never touched, never loved.


And the green of a rainforest before it becomes an office block's worth of shitty furniture.

Green, today, is my colour for sadness. For green is the colour of life.


Slavery in its ease.

Imagine you had a little tiny person in your pocket that performed small tasks for you, including:

Ferrying messages from you to your friends/co-workers/family very quickly,

Learning and remembering useful information you are too busy to remember, such as the exact digits of pi, the weather for tomorrow, or what order your classes/shifts/meetings/etc are in and the times they are on.

Amusing you when you grow bored with small games and songs it remembers.

Calculation of numbers and measurements, including currency differences and change.

You need to purchase this slave, but otherwise you need only feed it and pay for postage on the messages you send.

This is how I think of my phone. It does all those things and more.
It never complains (except where such information is of some benefit to me) and only through my poor treatment will it cease to function. Buying a new one and simply throwing my old one away would not be a particularly odd thing to do, and only insofar as it being a waste of money, rather than it being a cruel thing to do to the phone. I frequently berate my phone mildly for not performing tasks fast enough or correctly, such as "stupid thing send already I have four bars of reception!" or perhaps "turn on faster!" or "shut up I'm in class!" when I know it is only doing what I commanded of it to the best of it's ability.
We don't treat our slaves very well. When they die we don't morn them, but the service they performed. I have known some people to deliberately try to harm their phone so they might have the excuse to buy another. Perhaps some care for them. But not too much I wager.




I want a new electronic pocket slave now. The Siri features on the iPhone 4s look so cool (and I already use voice control a lot) and the Galaxy S II has some pretty amzing hardware.

I might just wait for the iPhone five though. Not because I'm a fanboy, well, I am a bit of a fanboy. Well, I like apple. They make things that are smart, look good, and make sense. Everything I value in a woman. WOAH SEXIST. Not really. I value that in men too. May as well objectify people, while I personify objects.

But really. I've said this before. People personify. It's one of the ways we deal with a confusing reality. I'm just taking a logical step: admitting I personify and amusing myself with my blatant fiction.

I leave you with this question: What slaves do you keep? What is it in your life that serves you, never speaks, and you don't think about very much.

Minus a billion points if you immediately answered 'Mum*'

*'mom' if American/strange.