The other day, I saw a black squirrel. Like a dream, it came and went and I couldn't be sure if it was real. The shadow flit across the grass as if to escape the sun. Rapt with curiosity, my eyes followed the furred black body scamper up an oak and disappear to the other side. I wanted to follow it further along the branches of the oak but there were things I needed to get done. My mind stayed squirrel and the rest of my day passed uneventfully. As I returned to the oak on my way back, my eyes followed the branches from the twigs to the trunk and the trunk to the twigs, slightly hoping I would catch a glimpse of the black squirrel, but knowing that I would not. Perhaps one day we would cross paths again.
What has the world come to when nobody has posted in one of Gantic's AMW threads in this time frame? Anyway, as with the other thread you posted in my time being here, and with everything else in the AMW, I'll, uh, go back to my lurking, and reading this whenever you post another piece.
I went for a walk along the seashore and stopped to look over the waters from a parking lot along the beach. It was a Saturday. There were only two cars and ten empty slots. Some ways north, by the water's edge, on the rocks, barely perceptible, curled upon itself, lay a dragon. Dragons were a rare but unmistakeable. I dared not disturb its magnificence for the tranquility of the ambiance, but part of me wished I had the grit to approach it. Perhaps, I would gauge its reaction and play it off as an accident if it responded negatively. Dragons, in all their majesty, were still dragons and they had reputations. Yet, they were still quite a sight to behold. Nothing seemed more bewitching amongst the lapping of the waves and the absence of gulls.
The pen fell off the edge of the paper, leaving a trail of futility. Indescribable. A burst of clarity left nothing but a sense of helplessness at the thought of finding words that did not exist. The page was no longer pristine, its corners were curling slightly and the what words there were became nebulous.
I have a question for everyone. I'll leave this question open until the next entry, which will probably be in a week or so.
What is your favorite thread of mine? Why?
I'm not limiting this to writings threads, but I am limiting it to Art, Music, and Writing.
I honestly can't figure out why anyone reads through entire threads even if it's just linked to from my profile, but people do. I might just bring back a thread, in essence, with sufficient reasons. There are also a few unfinished stories. If anyone would like for me to finish them, then by all means, request it.
I liked Reaching Out and Touching No One... not because I really understood it, but because I wanted to. Today, I write ROaTNO as a relic of the past... a commentary of an AG I was only tangibly part of. But some of the prose, specifically regarding the Stranger, stick with me. Gantic, you are far from my sole inspiration, but your writing, particularly that thread, shapes my imagery to this day. It's no coincidence that my avatar in the WoM appeared in the Leon vs. Bullman entry, and was visually similar to the Stranger.
I also liked Lore. Why? Because I was involved with Lore. Sure, not super involved... just a commenter... like the commenters on ROaTNO. But hey, it was my turn to step up to the plate and do whatever it was you and Strop and other people did on that thread. It didn't go far, but I felt a vague and largely misplaced sense of failure.
But that's not my favorite. My favorite is My User Name is X. It appeals to my poetic waxings about self-discovery and art and meaning and stuff. I liked it because it helped me understand the question. I liked it because now, I don't even know how long later, I might have something close to an answer.
If anyone would like for me to finish them, then by all means, request it.
The Way of Moderation: Round 8.
An Introduction
That made me quite sad. I tried to shake the melancholy as I wrote this post, but it never really goes away.
Half of ROaTNO is nonsense, just like Lore. Lore fizzled. It took me a year to go nowhere because I didn't have the time to keep it up. I'd rather start writing '461bisHbK72l3mQpEAdsfGb'.
It was a dark and foggy night. The lights outside each wore a smear of an orb. A night sprite, a small spot of bright yellow glow like a firefly, drifted beneath the lights. I could not remember the last time I saw one, but then I could not remember the last time I took a look outside at night. It is not something I care to remember. The sprite circled around one lamppost a few times before moving onto the next lamppost and then weaving in between the two. It was impossible to tell why it was out there. Unlike insects, sprites were not attracted to lights. I do not know where it went after. The game came back from commercials.
I want to see Creativity! Inspiration! Possibility! and Chance! The Marriage of Freedom and Constraint. Gusto, a Splash of Life. Panache and Passion. A Flourish of Invention. Intention to inspire, conspire with Heart and Mind to intrigue in kind. A Find, a Flash, and Flurry of Furor and Fury. Delirium! A Morsel, an Ort of Muse. The Hypotenuse to Discovery and Truth. The Lifeblood of Life. The vital Force that demands a Cry to the Heavens, "Listen to Me! I am here!"
The Book of Yesterday and Tomorrow is not a Book of Destiny held by the Wayfarers. It is the book of the Dreamwalkers. Yesterday contains regrets and revelry and Tomorrow the unwritten possibilities. Destiny has not a place here for Destiny is not within the ideology of Dreamwalkers.
Trading city lights for candles, he hoped that she would for once appreciate something he did. The lilies were freshly cut, as was the mint on the chicken.
Wishing she still held her breath, she hoped it was for once more than a mere gesture. She did not need him to validate her existence with trivialities.
The dimensions are bothering me. Might fix it, but eh, need to find better ways of doing things. The last time I did one of these was for the Moderators theme in the ASC before the Way of Moderation started, if I remember correctly. That puts it at over three years.
