Saturday, February 28, 2009

interpreting

She was outside listening to music and absorbing what the earth was showing her. Her mind drew many thoughts, she was drenched with them, and yet here she sits, unable to conjure up a thing. She had felt alive. The music made her thoughts alive.

Speaking of music, she listened to this one song over and over again, giving her the following images:


The untamed wilderness lay before her. The sun drew a blanket round her shoulders. She heard the music flood the area, and the land drank its fill of it. She closed her eyes.

Enter.

Open. She gazed up the mountain's winding trial. Life's mountain. Gathering a breath, she began the climb. Step. This was just the intro. Step. A continuous beat. Step. Reaching. Step. Climbing. Step. Determined. Step. Empowered. Step. Nothing can hold her back.

There.

Panoramic view. The wind congratulated her, music suddenly lit up, the scene below her swirled. It was alive. Adrenaline. Colors, music, feeling...

Night. Quiet. Smiling.

Back. The sunlight greeted her warmly, and laughter was her companion. She was stronger than ever.

Flying? Skimming the water's edge and feeling the sea breeze whip her. Nothing was faster...

She stood still, and the world revolved around her. Have you felt that way?

End.

-Tryouts by Jerry Goldsmith from the Rudy soundtrack.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

inner child

The child opened his eyes. He rolled over on his straw mat, shivering under the patched sheet. Shelves were everywhere, mostly holding things he didn’t understand. He stared, unblinkingly, at them, his little mind trying to find their purpose. After a while he gave up, deciding that he wanted to go outside. He stood, dusted himself off, and peered around the room. There was no door. A jolt of panic lurched through him. No outside? He must go outside. He needed to play hunter in the forests, needed freckles to pop onto his skin, needed to get grass stains, needed the wind to stroke his chubby face, needed...

He bolted. His tiny body slammed against the wall, having no effect against the barrier. The child spent his energy on pointless punches, and tears began to stream down his face. He wanted out... Just to see the sun.... Why couldn’t he see the sun?

For seven years he had been trapped in the room, for short intervals at first, but then he gradually spent longer sentences in the room. He grew bored very quickly, and as he had nothing better to do, he slept.

But one little boy can hold energy for so long, and now he was ready to greet the world again. Only he couldn’t. Because the walls wouldn’t let him. The mind wouldn’t let him. The body wouldn’t let him. He was trapped until summoned in the mind, trapped until the body needed to be a kid again. Briefly he could shine when the body played a sport, but other than that the body kept a padlock on the mind, the boy’s prison.

Was the body afraid that the child would expose him as incompetent? That he would be immature? Unsuccessful? Loser? Say nonsensical things? At least the boy knew how to be happy.

He should be able to see the sun.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

a new day

Click here.
^Directed par moi.

Her old layout was getting, well, old. The black was too depressing, so why not white? A blank canvas...

She dipped her pen in a dream, and was about to attempt a small story, but the tv just cranked up its volume, which shatters every thought:
story? gone.
a girl? gone.
the news? here.
commercials? here.

Her thoughts, disgusted with tv, confirmed to leave her and take a train to someone else's head. She can't even describe the train, or the station, as they're already gone and NBC News with Brian Williams is talking to her instead.

Lovely.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

think in music

What does it mean to think in music?

Does it mean with every sight, a sound is channeled with it?

Does it mean moods are like passionate songs?

Does it mean withe every person, a melody floats around them?

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Blog #2

The previous story has planted an idea in her mind, and you can find the idea here.

If, that is, she has time.

If life were a color for her at the moment, it would be a dull yellow. Nothing out of the ordinary is happening, but everything is fine. Cruising a long...

She's wondering how different people imagine things. For her, when you drifts off to daydream, a movie starts. It features the same two characters over and over again, but the plot changes with her mood. When she has to stop day dreaming, she bookmarks her spot, and picks up where she left off later. If she doesn't like a scene, she'll rewind and start again. Is it like this for other people?

She hopes her story will work. It's not everyday one's garden starts anew.