Friday, November 18, 2005

Tactile Guile

The voices become more boisterous as the night goes on as if the sheer volume of their verbosity will convince their audience, themselves, and anyone else in earshot of their brilliance. Or perhaps cause us to overlook the fallacies in their arguements. Whether it be a philisophical debate over the effects of a full moon on their favorite sports team or the best flavour for chicken wings - they speak out loud and proud. They disgorge the dogma quickly, allowing no opportunity for rebuttle. Through strength of will alone they intend to force feed you falsehoods and egotistical exaggeration. Picayune posturing that is rapidly ignored by the crowd.

They haven't learned yet the proper methods of persuasion or deception.

Lean in close and speak in hushed tones that gives the illusion of a conspiracy. Reticently spoken and revealing little, yet hinting at something more. Allow the listeners mind to fill in the gaps. Gently guide them in the right direction, but refrain from forcing them. Give them enough information to form the desired conclusion, but permit yourself the luxury of plausible deniability. People, for the most part, love a secret. Thrive on thinking themselves clever enough to have figured it out, relish feeling a part of it, and desperately seek out others to display their genius.

Governments have been perfecting the techniques for years. When the wish for a story to die a quick and painless death they flood the media with direct and forcefull statements that soon fall on deaf, uncaring ears. When they desire for it to spread rapidly and linger for months in trivial conversations around the water cooler? An unsubstantiated leak to an unknown source that strikes up debate and controversy.

I feel truly dismayed to observe some loud mouth behemoth obnoxiously spouting on about his own overwhelming skills and virtues to a crowd of people who simply roll their eyes and return to their drinks.

Far more can be accomplished with a wink, a smile, and a few carefully whispered words.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

In Accordance With The Prophecy.

Her dance is a carefully choreographed chaos that defies explanation. She assaults your senses with a vengeance - Unceasing and relentless. Irresistable. Surrender or be destroyed.

Seductively tempting, yet hinting at danger. You can struggle to avoid it, desperately try to drown in all
out, but eventually will look up into her eyes.

And you will be lost.


And feel no shame in defeat.

It is inevitable.

Whatever your deepest desire - She offers to fulfill it.
Whatever your greatest fear - She forces you to face it.
Whatever your darkest secret - She reveals it.

A catalcysmic meeting that leaves you stripped naked, powerless, and

Yet Aware. Of something more; of something greater; of something different.

And you will love her for it.

And you will say "She is mine."

And be mistaken. A living, breathing creature of such complexity, vitality, energy, with so much to explore will never belong to one person.

Except, perhaps, me.

Her name?

New York City

Suffice to say that the five day birthday celebration in the big city went well. So fabulous and mesmerizing, in fact, that it turned into a ten day tour - another testament to just how pathetically inept at avoiding temptation.One of those unforgettable occasions that makes it painfully difficult to leave and seems to leave you wanting more.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Hyde... Meet Dr. Jekyll.

Life is a magical elixir. A fantastic combination of taste, texture, and scent with a fabulous colour and clarity best served with fine music after it has been allowed awhile to breathe. Like a fine wine it should be slowly savoured with a careful attention to detail lest you miss some subtle nuance that adds to the character. The flavour is best experienced by a clean palate, one that is untainted. Occasionally it is consumed too quickly by the untrained. They fail to fully appreciate the hint of pepper and tobacco and understand the complex aroma that can be coaxed when gently swirled.

Yes, life is a feast for the senses. A wondrous sensation to be enjoyed by all. Of course it is usually best when consumed in conjunction with a proper meal. A little something to fill the stomach and fend off the intoxicating side effects that can occur from an overindulgence in living. A little something to temper the euphoria and keep you somewhat grounded rather than flying off to new dizzying heights only to crash back down.

Yes, a banquet for the soul. A gift to be celebrated. A true miracle of which we are all a part. Each of us only adds to the elaborate design. Together, my friends, we are marvelous blend forming an exquisite phenomenon that is so much greater than the individual parts. A lone we are nothing but a small portion of something that is so much more. Only together is the true splendor made clear and we can finally perceive the vast perfection and beauty of it.

Margaret Wolfe Hungerford once said "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

And I believe for each of us to see the beauty we need but to open our eyes and behold all of the glory around us. I have cast the blinders from my eyes and caught but a glimpse of the fantastic nature of life and living it. I am reminded of the immortal words of Edgar Allen Poe:

Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.

Listen, my friends, to the sound of my soul weeping.

And let there be much rejoicing.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

The Demons

They come out mostly at night.

They haunt you.
They taunt.
They torment.

Though to what end; for what nefarious purpose, I can't imagine. To simply deprive of much needed slumber seems foolish. There must be a deeper, darker, meaning behind it. These minions of the night must have some goal. An underlying purpose they keep carefully masked. A fiendish plot deviously designed and painstakingly performed.

I think perhaps they want my soul.

So stong is their desire and their need they don't seem to realize I don't have a soul. I traded it long ago for one night in the arms of an angel. A poor trade I came to realize later. Once I even begged to get it back, but the bitch told me it was forbidden - Souls, unlike hearts, cannot be freely given. A flaw in the system, I decided, yet my complaints fell upon deaf ears. It seems no one wants to address the problems while they think they are ending up ahead. Why repair a glitch when you can gain from it?

So you are left with the universal question "How can I best exploit the system to work for me?"

A question best asked when you have nothing. Once the emptiness within becomes unbearable and you notice that all around people seem happy and you realize, in that one moment of clarity, that the World owes you something. And it owes you now.

Or when you realize you have everything and that the World owes you more.

So, All you half-dressed harlots in your fish-net stockings, trailer trash trollops in your satan red sequins, and voluptuous vamps in your long black cloaks...

Bring it on.

I'll heed the warning of the fortune cookie - "The finest structure can house the worst evil."

And I will prevail.

I must.

I need a soul.
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