I have no explanation for my whole-hearted enjoyment of the Steampunk, I can say that its art and its following both receive a gilded stamp of approval from my desk. But though I've held interest in the Steampunk culture, literary, visual and physical, I've never attempted to dedicate myself to any sort of writing of my own. This, as obviously dictated by this post, has changed, and I've begun steps toward a full-fledged Steampunk work. However, I will be commencing this with a series of daily shorter pieces, each following a specific character or two who resurface collectively in the final work. Thus, this piece is but one of many. A future, exclusive blog will also be created in the name of this work, so as not to crowd out this one, whose annuls should remain as varied and undedicated as possible. Enjoy.
The door creaked open and a lean form entered the room. Ivory melodies filled the air, spinning tales of wild adventure and exotic treasure. His father was a piano virtuoso, a product of countless hours of spare time. Such skills come quite liberally to those affluent fiscally and cognitively. Shelves, bursting, rose imperceptibly in to darkness, the sole source of light being a blazing heart. He didn’t see his father much, having his own activities to attend, but he always knew he could if he so fancied – fancied a trip to the study. At least, most of the time he could.
“Hey…Dad”
“Good afternoon, son!” His father continued his piece, unabated. “Or…perhaps it is the evening. Time is so fickle.”
“I just wanted to remind you, my graduation is coming up and I…” He trailed off, sensing disinterest. His father’s face tightened. The seated patriarch threw his fingers about sporadically, rounding up the remnants of the melody, and slowly brought the piece to a close.
His father rested his eyes on the keys for a few moments before speaking. “Two months and about…” There was a quick pause to count envisioned numerals. “14 days. Am I close?”
“You…you remembered.”
“I wouldn’t be a very good history student if I couldn’t remember a few important dates.” His lips curled in to an innocuous smirk, amused by his own turn of phrase before arriving at a sudden exigency. “And that date is why I have to leave now.”
“What?”
“I’ve found something, and it requires immediate attention. I’ll need to head to the outer rim.”
“Another book?” His father’s hand, reaching for a shelved text, paused, then quickly collected the object. Placing the tome on the desk, the man exhaled.
“Yes.” A probing pair of fingers opened the tome to a searched page. Four spheres, imbedded in the book’s corners, flickered on and a hologram lit up above the pages. Images of star systems, nebulous clouds, celestial bands and grand space ports zoomed past as the narration’s perspective whizzed through the ether.
“You remember that story I used to read to you?”
“You’re not going to tell me that Captain Henry Pierce is real?”
“Of course not, that would be ludicrous!” He rolled his eyes. “No, it is the planet that is real. The only hint of modern civilization it possesses is a mangy space port, but…” His father’s eyes widened and began to show that devious twinkle of obsession. “But its lands did once house an ancient civilization, millennia ahead of their time. Truly fascinating! And this book! Oh, yes! You see it-”
“Yes, yes. I understand.” He turned back toward the door.
“I know you don’t like what I do but-”
“That’s because ‘what you do’ isn’t even a job! You just leave for weeks at a time chasing comets and shadows!” He audibly sighed. “Maybe if you spent some time…” He trailed off again. “I’ll see you later, Dad”
He could hear him stand up and rummage around, but he counted stand to look back. He closed the door with a deep breath. It took a great fit of will not to succumb to catharsis. He didn’t consciously mind his father’s periodic absence, but his father’s undying zeal toward the sciences didn’t seem to leave much fervor for his accomplishments.
An unhappy lethargy followed him back to his room. As he passed through the entranceway, he gathered a textbook from the top of this stack as he trudged to his bed, though he held no intention to open it. For a time, he merely sat, staring at whatever small feature proved distracting, thinking slowly, mostly of subjects fleeting, some of his father, until, at length, he crept to horizontal, a state he was only fully aware of long after its onset.
"Knock knock.” His mother casually strolled up to his bedside, resting silently at the foot without disturbing even the slightest fold of the covers. “The wearied pose is quite artistic. Are you modeling Venus or the first law of thermodynamics?” She held up the unattended Chemistry textbook.
“He’s leaving again. Pretty soon, apparently.”
“It doesn’t usually bother you. What’s up?”
“I just wish he would take interest. See what I’ve done. See what I can do.”
“He does care, sweetie. He just can’t always show it.”
“And I suppose he can just blame his travel?”
“It doesn’t help, no.”
There was a pause. He pressed his hands to his face, groaning with dissatisfaction. “Stupid escapades! Foolish, child-like follies the lot of them! I hate them!”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Pierce”
“And what do you know?”
“Nothing that will change your mind, but if you’re so intent on his recognition, why don’t you join him on his child-like escapade?”
He sat up, blankly transfixed on his mother. “I cannot believe you just suggested that”
“You may be our blood, but you sure don’t know how to act it.”
“You’re!...You’re serious!?”
“Of course!” She snickered. “Why do you think your father married me?”
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
For the Sake of Entertainment...
My speech for Academic Decathlon. Max score was a meager 845/1000, but that's not so important, for they could not understand the gravity of this piece.
Morgan Butler I, my great grandfather and a former school board president once said “The innovative approach is the key to the answer, but, more importantly, understanding.” Hypothetical situation. Let’s say I was to give you a speech, using this innovative approach, on topic ‘x’. Perhaps you have given thought to topic ‘x’ or perhaps you haven’t. Perhaps you have your own biases associated with it, or perhaps you don’t. None the less, you feel you could listen to an exposition on the matter for the next say, 3-and-a-half minutes. Yes, let’s explore this topic.
I begin slowly at first, perhaps with an aphorism. “Read between the lines” “Go below the surface” A terse statement of theme that becomes cyclical during my conclusion. The deceptive simplicity of it and my strange interpretation intrigues you. You are drawn in by my captivating, sophisticated and mildly classy introduction and your curiosity demands that I continue. Perhaps now I have your attention.
I journey in to the heart of my subject weaving my way through facts, figures and statistics. If I am masterful, I may sprinkle words of wisdom here and there from exalted professionals, seconding my argument and adding a touch of humanity to my exposé. But as I lead you through this, hand gestures as graceful as my syntax, you find your own beliefs and biases conflicting with my words. You recall your own side of the story, and perhaps narrow your eyes at one of my more audacious comments. Not so quick to abandon your own mentalities, you stand ardent, an unwavering bastion in a sea of opposition. But still, you hear me out and continue to listen.
Suddenly, my tone changes. I have ushered you in to a new phase and the sudden change catches you off guard. I speak solemnly, perhaps of a mother who lost everything, of a child stricken with a crippling affliction. You find yourself surrounded by a heart wrenching tale. Your shield had stood firm against my logos, but the evocative emotions of my pathos might become too much. As my words inundate your senses, eloquent, heartfelt, emotional, you find tenacity failing you. The sincerity of it all, of my small narrative has caused you to lay down your protections, and has offered me a chance.
Still contemplating the implications of my anecdote, I lead you in to the latter half of our time together. You know that I could stick to my guns, tell you another story, bombard you with more facts; but you expect more from a well-constructed, impassioned piece – and for the sake of entertainment, let’s say I deliver. You are shocked as I summon your own words! I build up your arguments, your biases, your beliefs right before your eyes. Then, like a man brushes a fly from his knee to rid himself of inconvenience, I sweep away the very facts and figures you had supporting your side. You sit paralyzed by my counter-arguments, but strangely intrigued.
Perhaps it is now when I begin to connect the dots. I show you the bigger picture and unveil the final product. Hearkening back to the promised cyclicality of my intro, I recall for you the aphorism. Reading between lines, you begin to question was my topic really own? Was my purpose so shallow to be self-contained? Or perhaps, the whole ordeal was more a lens with which to examine every other – an innovative approach to the explication of their work. You question: was this fictional situation so fictional; or perhaps it is a universal reality embodied by every other speech. At length, you even begin to question: had any of this even occurred at all? After all, all of these ideas, these events, these revelations; its all hypothetical…isn’t it?
Morgan Butler I, my great grandfather and a former school board president once said “The innovative approach is the key to the answer, but, more importantly, understanding.” Hypothetical situation. Let’s say I was to give you a speech, using this innovative approach, on topic ‘x’. Perhaps you have given thought to topic ‘x’ or perhaps you haven’t. Perhaps you have your own biases associated with it, or perhaps you don’t. None the less, you feel you could listen to an exposition on the matter for the next say, 3-and-a-half minutes. Yes, let’s explore this topic.
I begin slowly at first, perhaps with an aphorism. “Read between the lines” “Go below the surface” A terse statement of theme that becomes cyclical during my conclusion. The deceptive simplicity of it and my strange interpretation intrigues you. You are drawn in by my captivating, sophisticated and mildly classy introduction and your curiosity demands that I continue. Perhaps now I have your attention.
I journey in to the heart of my subject weaving my way through facts, figures and statistics. If I am masterful, I may sprinkle words of wisdom here and there from exalted professionals, seconding my argument and adding a touch of humanity to my exposé. But as I lead you through this, hand gestures as graceful as my syntax, you find your own beliefs and biases conflicting with my words. You recall your own side of the story, and perhaps narrow your eyes at one of my more audacious comments. Not so quick to abandon your own mentalities, you stand ardent, an unwavering bastion in a sea of opposition. But still, you hear me out and continue to listen.
Suddenly, my tone changes. I have ushered you in to a new phase and the sudden change catches you off guard. I speak solemnly, perhaps of a mother who lost everything, of a child stricken with a crippling affliction. You find yourself surrounded by a heart wrenching tale. Your shield had stood firm against my logos, but the evocative emotions of my pathos might become too much. As my words inundate your senses, eloquent, heartfelt, emotional, you find tenacity failing you. The sincerity of it all, of my small narrative has caused you to lay down your protections, and has offered me a chance.
Still contemplating the implications of my anecdote, I lead you in to the latter half of our time together. You know that I could stick to my guns, tell you another story, bombard you with more facts; but you expect more from a well-constructed, impassioned piece – and for the sake of entertainment, let’s say I deliver. You are shocked as I summon your own words! I build up your arguments, your biases, your beliefs right before your eyes. Then, like a man brushes a fly from his knee to rid himself of inconvenience, I sweep away the very facts and figures you had supporting your side. You sit paralyzed by my counter-arguments, but strangely intrigued.
Perhaps it is now when I begin to connect the dots. I show you the bigger picture and unveil the final product. Hearkening back to the promised cyclicality of my intro, I recall for you the aphorism. Reading between lines, you begin to question was my topic really own? Was my purpose so shallow to be self-contained? Or perhaps, the whole ordeal was more a lens with which to examine every other – an innovative approach to the explication of their work. You question: was this fictional situation so fictional; or perhaps it is a universal reality embodied by every other speech. At length, you even begin to question: had any of this even occurred at all? After all, all of these ideas, these events, these revelations; its all hypothetical…isn’t it?
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Part I of Some Beautiful Abomination
I don't know how I've written so much that I've forgotten about, but things keep surfacing from my sea of half-conceived material. Here's a narrative I found today sans editing, of course. I think I have a strange fixation with raw literary material. Bad habits.
“Impeccable form!”
“No one can quite pull off the princely look as you do.” Nikolas strained his muscles, contorting his body in to dramatic poses, reminiscent of Greek statuary. “Now you have a meeting at-”
“Jeeves, haven’t I told you not to bother me while I’m flaunting myself”
“Terribly sorry sir, it must’ve slipped my mind.” Jeeves paced about the room, opening the various draperies covering the windows.
“A meeting with my father?”
“Yes”
The skies darkened in a fashion that a frail, sentimental author would describe with a word such as ‘suddenly’. Thunder like the rumbling of drums boomed with deafening might. The ornate double doors of the room exploded open, revealing a hulking man-figure, but not an all together handsome one: just really muscular.
“Dude! You need to leave right now!”
“Holy shit what’s going on?!”
“Your brother’s trying to kill you!”
“What!?”
“With a GUN!”
“Fuck!”
“Let’s go!”
“Yeah!”
Nikolas, Jeeves and the hulking, muscular but not attractive dude fled the room with dramatic languidness, winding through the castle’s labyrinthine halls. (They’ve been in a castle, by the way.)
“We’ll take the rails” The three ended their dash in an ambiguous area, rendering the space incapable of reasonable description regarding size or form. Whether this was due to the character’s inability to discern their surroundings or if it was a certain author being struck with paralyzing flaccidness is up to the reader’s discretion, but there were definitely tools relating to the maintenance of rail ways.
“There he is! Get him!” A troupe of guards charged in to the ambiguous space, cantankerousness abound. The trio hauled a mine cart to a departing rail, hopped in and sped down the first incline, totally averting the troops, who happen to suck eggs.
“See ya later alligator!” Nikolas taunted jubilantly.
“A positively demeaning gesture, sir”
“Thank you, Jeeves”
But who is this mysterious hulking yet mildly unattractive character Nikolas and Jeeves are with? Why haven’t I told you his name? And what of this seemingly brother? And Nikolas is going to miss his meeting with his Pops! He’ll totally get grounded! All this and more answered! …Later
There was an uncomfortable pause. “We have the weirdest narrator” Nikolas pointed out plainly.
“Agreed”, added Jamison Von Hubenhach II who is actually the mysterious hulking figure of only average beauty.
“I hate to interrupt, sir, but we seem to have guests on the rail.” Ahead, Nikolas’ brother, vanguarding an entourage of soldiers, stood ready to intercept the two (plus Jamison).
“Jump?”
“Sounds good” The trio leapt from the mine cart, plummeting to the city below because the rail track was actually suspended above the city. Why isn’t this type of plan done more often? It’s a totally fantastic idea! The cart continued on, crashing in to the cavalcade before EXPLODING (oh my goodness why did that happen), unleashing an INTENSE FIERY PLUME OF SCORCHING MISERY.
“Why the hell did that explode?”
“Sorry bout that. Left my stash of TNT in there”
Nikolas glared at Jamison with disgust as profound as life itself, shaming the humorous reality with eyes piercing enough to maul Jamison a new one.
The three totally pulled off epic rolls down the tapered roofs of the city’s residential district, landing in the streets without even minor disturbances to their exquisite hair-dos or their lavishly luxurious laundry.
“You never know when your cinematic-style espionage classes will pay off”
“Impeccable form!”
“No one can quite pull off the princely look as you do.” Nikolas strained his muscles, contorting his body in to dramatic poses, reminiscent of Greek statuary. “Now you have a meeting at-”
“Jeeves, haven’t I told you not to bother me while I’m flaunting myself”
“Terribly sorry sir, it must’ve slipped my mind.” Jeeves paced about the room, opening the various draperies covering the windows.
“A meeting with my father?”
“Yes”
The skies darkened in a fashion that a frail, sentimental author would describe with a word such as ‘suddenly’. Thunder like the rumbling of drums boomed with deafening might. The ornate double doors of the room exploded open, revealing a hulking man-figure, but not an all together handsome one: just really muscular.
“Dude! You need to leave right now!”
“Holy shit what’s going on?!”
“Your brother’s trying to kill you!”
“What!?”
“With a GUN!”
“Fuck!”
“Let’s go!”
“Yeah!”
Nikolas, Jeeves and the hulking, muscular but not attractive dude fled the room with dramatic languidness, winding through the castle’s labyrinthine halls. (They’ve been in a castle, by the way.)
“We’ll take the rails” The three ended their dash in an ambiguous area, rendering the space incapable of reasonable description regarding size or form. Whether this was due to the character’s inability to discern their surroundings or if it was a certain author being struck with paralyzing flaccidness is up to the reader’s discretion, but there were definitely tools relating to the maintenance of rail ways.
“There he is! Get him!” A troupe of guards charged in to the ambiguous space, cantankerousness abound. The trio hauled a mine cart to a departing rail, hopped in and sped down the first incline, totally averting the troops, who happen to suck eggs.
“See ya later alligator!” Nikolas taunted jubilantly.
“A positively demeaning gesture, sir”
“Thank you, Jeeves”
But who is this mysterious hulking yet mildly unattractive character Nikolas and Jeeves are with? Why haven’t I told you his name? And what of this seemingly brother? And Nikolas is going to miss his meeting with his Pops! He’ll totally get grounded! All this and more answered! …Later
There was an uncomfortable pause. “We have the weirdest narrator” Nikolas pointed out plainly.
“Agreed”, added Jamison Von Hubenhach II who is actually the mysterious hulking figure of only average beauty.
“I hate to interrupt, sir, but we seem to have guests on the rail.” Ahead, Nikolas’ brother, vanguarding an entourage of soldiers, stood ready to intercept the two (plus Jamison).
“Jump?”
“Sounds good” The trio leapt from the mine cart, plummeting to the city below because the rail track was actually suspended above the city. Why isn’t this type of plan done more often? It’s a totally fantastic idea! The cart continued on, crashing in to the cavalcade before EXPLODING (oh my goodness why did that happen), unleashing an INTENSE FIERY PLUME OF SCORCHING MISERY.
“Why the hell did that explode?”
“Sorry bout that. Left my stash of TNT in there”
Nikolas glared at Jamison with disgust as profound as life itself, shaming the humorous reality with eyes piercing enough to maul Jamison a new one.
The three totally pulled off epic rolls down the tapered roofs of the city’s residential district, landing in the streets without even minor disturbances to their exquisite hair-dos or their lavishly luxurious laundry.
“You never know when your cinematic-style espionage classes will pay off”
Friday, February 4, 2011
Contemplations on the Force
A piece I found on my hard drive from the past.
The Force; its’ power binds together the universe and everything within it. It is an omniscient, omnipresent energy that envelops, surrounds and is contained in everything. Its’ power can and is used for the upholding of justice and peace in the universe and it is one of the most potent tools in the arsenal of a knight of righteousness. Its’ power can be used both as a weapon against evil and as a healing agent. It has taught the ways of self improvement and purity of mind and body. It has stood along side the warriors of the light as a steadfast ally in the war against tyranny, darkness and evil.
Yet, even though it is omnipresent, only a select few can feel its existence and can utilize its’ power. Even though it is the greatest tool of righteousness, its’ strength is employed as a weapon of evil and malice. Despite its’ capacity as a healing force, its’ power has been used to spread pain, frailty and plague. Its’ venerable teachings have bettered many persons of good nature, but many great individuals and groups have succumbed to its darkness and malevolence, learning only the teachings of selfishness and greed. In spite of its’ alliance with the powers of the light and its adamant beacon against the darkness of the universe, it remains the greatest weapon of the powers of evil, and death.
The Force has played a duplicitous role since the initial discovery of its existence. It has been the spearhead of attacks from both good and evil. It has lead two polar teachings and has represented both sides of an age old conflict. It is pure evil and holy light simultaneously.
It is embodied by both good and evil, but the Force, at its very purest form is neither good nor evil. The illusion of the dark side and the light side are mere perspectives and represent two parts of one whole. The temptations characterized by the dark side of the force exist within one self, and exist as one’s own greed and power hunger. The greatest evils of the dark side exist only in a lack of willpower and the inability to control one’s own evils. Commanders of the dark side are not restricted to the abilities classified as powers of the dark side and can be utilized by any skilled practitioner of the light side. Likewise, the powers and teachings of the light side can be employed by any wielder of the dark side. This is because the Force is not consisted of two parts but merely one whole unit. The only reason for the restriction of one self from the powers classified as powers of the dark side is the fear that one will become seduced by the aggressive nature and the potential for self-gain and domination that powers of the dark side hold; but this can be easily averted by the complete understanding and control of one’s emotions and fears.
Even though the dark side and light side only exist as illusions when speaking of the Force in its purest forms, the two exist as separate sides of both a galactic conflict and in the life of each individual. To fall under the sway of one’s own evils is a travesty of self and can only lead to one’s own destruction, whether it is at the blade of a lightsaber or at the hands of your own deeds. Walking the path of the light and fully understanding and controlling one’s self is the greatest favor one can do for their self.
The Force; its’ power binds together the universe and everything within it. It is an omniscient, omnipresent energy that envelops, surrounds and is contained in everything. Its’ power can and is used for the upholding of justice and peace in the universe and it is one of the most potent tools in the arsenal of a knight of righteousness. Its’ power can be used both as a weapon against evil and as a healing agent. It has taught the ways of self improvement and purity of mind and body. It has stood along side the warriors of the light as a steadfast ally in the war against tyranny, darkness and evil.
Yet, even though it is omnipresent, only a select few can feel its existence and can utilize its’ power. Even though it is the greatest tool of righteousness, its’ strength is employed as a weapon of evil and malice. Despite its’ capacity as a healing force, its’ power has been used to spread pain, frailty and plague. Its’ venerable teachings have bettered many persons of good nature, but many great individuals and groups have succumbed to its darkness and malevolence, learning only the teachings of selfishness and greed. In spite of its’ alliance with the powers of the light and its adamant beacon against the darkness of the universe, it remains the greatest weapon of the powers of evil, and death.
The Force has played a duplicitous role since the initial discovery of its existence. It has been the spearhead of attacks from both good and evil. It has lead two polar teachings and has represented both sides of an age old conflict. It is pure evil and holy light simultaneously.
It is embodied by both good and evil, but the Force, at its very purest form is neither good nor evil. The illusion of the dark side and the light side are mere perspectives and represent two parts of one whole. The temptations characterized by the dark side of the force exist within one self, and exist as one’s own greed and power hunger. The greatest evils of the dark side exist only in a lack of willpower and the inability to control one’s own evils. Commanders of the dark side are not restricted to the abilities classified as powers of the dark side and can be utilized by any skilled practitioner of the light side. Likewise, the powers and teachings of the light side can be employed by any wielder of the dark side. This is because the Force is not consisted of two parts but merely one whole unit. The only reason for the restriction of one self from the powers classified as powers of the dark side is the fear that one will become seduced by the aggressive nature and the potential for self-gain and domination that powers of the dark side hold; but this can be easily averted by the complete understanding and control of one’s emotions and fears.
Even though the dark side and light side only exist as illusions when speaking of the Force in its purest forms, the two exist as separate sides of both a galactic conflict and in the life of each individual. To fall under the sway of one’s own evils is a travesty of self and can only lead to one’s own destruction, whether it is at the blade of a lightsaber or at the hands of your own deeds. Walking the path of the light and fully understanding and controlling one’s self is the greatest favor one can do for their self.
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