Six Weeks and an EternityHe’s going to finish his degree. In six weeks, he’s going to have his final recital and jury. No more touchy Yamaha in a tiny practice room, no more living off Mr Noodle and too-little sleep. In six weeks, he’s not going to be Malorie-Miles’-promising-student. In six weeks, he’s going to be Arthur-Fucking-Goldberg-Like-The-Variations, capitals and profanity present and necessary. Because in six weeks he’s going to perform in front of half the conservatorium. In six weeks, he’s going to be handed offers left and right. He’s going to hammer Mendelssohn, nail Haydn, flawlessly execute Schubert, turn Rachmaninoff from beautiful sound to liquid gold for the ears and effortlessly make Mozart something worth playing. Six weeks.
Mozart hadn’t been his idea, of course. It had been Mal’s.
“Arthur, mon beau, you will play Mozart for your recital.” He recalls the conversation clearly.
“Mal, I’m not going to
The BreadmakerEdith knelt before the bread ovens, pushing limp, sweat-soaked hair back from her forehead to better look through the tiny window at the tiger loaves cracking in the heat. She heard Flavia scolding another cook for burning a loaf, her usually kind voice cracking out under the stress of the incoming orders. Every time the far steel door opened to release the loaves, Edith caught the sound of loud voices and something too happy to exist in her world.
France was celebrating. What, Edith knew not, but that they were was obvious. She imagined the wine connoisseurs were having and even worse time of it. She’d worked in (been sold into) the wine trade once, but they soon found her to be all but useless as a connoisseur, as unable to read the swirling script on the bottles as she was to read the unadorned black letters Flavia read out to the cooks.
The loaves were done. Smoothly, Edit pulled open the oven, feeling the hairs on her arms all but curl from the heat before she managed to rem
The Penrose Girl and the Caspian SeaThe fire licks at her body and he wants to scream, because she can’t. Not anymore. His hands are held loosely in his pockets, one turning a red poker chip over and over. She’d been a gambler, he remembers. Of course he remembers. It was how they’d met. She was a terrible gambler. She made a living from spinning lies, but couldn’t hold a poker face for shit.
A tiny, fond smile pulls at a corner of his mouth as the rest of his face is swallowed with melancholy. His Penrose Girl.
She’d never liked fire, but cremation had been her idea. She loved he sea, but was scared of the creatures in it. A woman of paradoxes. He loves her for it.
A switch is flicked and the flames die away. She is gone. Nothing but ash is left. He wonders numbly how it can happen like that. She was there, but now she’s not. It’s a sudden thing and it makes his old hands tremble as they clutch his walking stick.
Later, when standing on the beach near their home, he wonders when
They Have to be WrongAudio: http://pmcde7.tumblr.com/post/100300139659/they-have-to-be-wrong-by-paulette-mcde-music
They Have to be Wrong
By Paulette McDe
Music: Olafur Arnalds - 3055
Inspired by: Shane Koyczan’s ‘To This Day’
Do you ever take a moment and just
To hear the air flowing smoothly down your throat, feel the quickening of your heart as you exhale. Inhale. Exhale. And each breath is a moment to be proud of. A success. Because you did it. You beat them again, proved them wrong. Everyone who ever cut you down or made you hurt. Made you cry. Made you bleed. Made you hate every moment that beautiful muscle beating in your chest continued to carry on, seemingly unhearing of their cruel words. But it hears. Of course it does.
It hears and feels a thousand tiny cuts break across its walls, each insult sinking deeper, wearing down the defences and it knows it’s only a matter of time before they cut through. Before the hairline fr
EnigmaThe mathematician breathed. He wouldn’t have called a deep breath, because it wasn’t one. But he made a conscious effort to draw the air into his lungs, imagining it swirling, drifting across his bronchioles before he let it flood out, releasing it back to the world. Why? Because he was human. He was flesh and blood and bone. He wasn’t extremely strong, though his was adequately fit. He was intelligent – he had to be, for his profession. But he was still human. Just human. Why should he be cursed to carry every drifting life in this damned war? Why should one man be burdened with saving them? He was only human. But he was getting ahead of himself. The politician sitting sternly across the large, wooden desk from him hadn’t posed the question. Or, come to think of it, the subsequent threat. He was sure the two would go hand-in-hand.
“Do you know how many have died because of Enigma, Mr Turing?” He had a cold, closed-off face. He didn’t car
Merlock 2Five o’clock came slowly. John was laying on his side, watching the dots on his digital clock blink at him mockingly for four hours, waiting for his alarm to go off. It was no longer a call to wake him up, so much as a reminder that if he didn’t get ready for the day soon, he wouldn’t be ready for it when it came. Somehow, his meeting with Sherlock had convinced him he wouldn’t dream. As the dots on his digital clock read 4:58am, he wondered if he had been a dream. Because yesterday hadn’t been so terrible. He’d laughed. He’d joked. He’d forgotten, for a second. John regretted leaving his cane down by the jetty. The walk would be painful without it.
4:59am. The dots blinked at him. Coffee and tea. He’d put them in a couple of thermoses, take them down to the jetty. He wondered if Sherlock would turn up. He wondered if Sherlock existed. Maybe he was finally going mad. Though, what caused him to dream him up, he’d
An Old Flame's SmellToday was a day unlike no other
I was so scared
I was distracted by many thoughts
For some reason, at work today, a smell was gathered in my senses and all throughout my body structure. A smell of that of my ex boyfriend. My first love. My oh my his smell, I thought, had remained in the inner trash compactor of my mind. It was that smell I missed so much.
The smell was that of a home. A home filled with 2 dogs, a brother, a mom and stepdad. Maybe it wasn't the smell of having pets in the house. It had to have been a detergent of some kind. Whenever I saw him in school, he always brought that wonderful aroma with him. I was addicted to this particular aroma for what seemed like many years. The two of us were photogenic together. People would say that we -did- look like boyfriend and girlfriend. I had hoped we would live to see each other walking to the aisle to get married. I wondered what my life would have been like had I chosen to put up with the emotional unavailability he so obviou
...There's always going to be that one,
Who says you cant.
From the time your 5,
They ask what you want to grow up to be,
We gave answers like
I never answered..
Something always bothered my mind when they did ask.
At 13 They asked again and again.. Wondering why you haven't answered.
I finally gave it..
The others said,Things like Doctor,News reporter,Owner of a business,Cop.
But this was their second answer...
Their first answers, was their dreams calling to them..
We originally said things like, photographer,Gamer,Traveler,Director,Dreamer,Artist,Cook.
But the second they said it,They were shot down...
Told That, They had to pick something realistic..
That you couldn't chase dreams forever.
That They would fail.
And let me tell you,To others... They were judged for being dreamers.
To them, They were judged for being themselves...
They hoped,and wished,and dreamed so hard, That there was a fire in there hearts filled with those passions.
Forsaken Longing For Warmth...
I feel like I'm in a foggy place. There's not much light in sight. I'm entranced by the romantic music I like to listen to every now and then. Anime men, for whom I gazed upon so easily, are seen through this mystical fog. I love the idea of being around something real. But these men are unfortunately not real.
I want someone to touch and hold hands with, not a parallel who can only be seen and heard through a mirror. I don't want to be left out in the cold when I could easily be inside with the warmth a building and hot coffee could easily provide me.
Two anime guys are fighting for my attention. One has the ability to really entrance me and make me feel naughty. The other has the ability for Prince-like abilities, whisking me away to a romantic fantasy so I don't have to focus on the stress that's compatible with this new job I have.
For once, I'd like to be in a Starbucks cafe with someone by my side and not sigh in discontent when I see young couples. Valentine's is the WORST.
Unsere SchuldWas bedeutet diese Welt für mich?
Und das ist keine Frage nach dem Sinn des Lebens.
Vielmehr ist es die Frage nach meiner Schuld in diesem Leben.
Ich bin angekommen und darf die Sonne fühlen. Ich darf atmen. Ich darf wachsen.
Ich bin hier und das ohne mich je bedankt zu haben.
Mir wurde nie etwas Größeres abverlangt, als die Verantwortung für mich selbst. Ich wurde nie gelehrt größer zu denken, das bisschen Potenzial, das ich habe zu teilen und es mit dem der anderen zusammenzusetzen. Ich habe nichts bewirkt, was die Menschheit voranbringen könnte, habe einfach nicht die Kapazität dazu.
Ich bin nur ein Mensch. Ich bin nur Ich.
Also wie hoch ist meine Schuld?
Wie viel war mein Leben bisher wert und was muss ich noch leisten, um für das aufzukommen, was mir so bereitwillig geschenkt wurde?
Ich möchte nicht nur nach einem Sinn streben, möchte ihn nicht erzwingen, denn ich bin hier und ist das nicht fürs Erste genug? Vielleic
Who are we Thanking on Thanksgiving Day?Of course we thank everyone sitting around the Turkey dinner as well as the Butcher, the Baker and the Pie maker. We thank the waitress if we eat out and the say "Happy Thanksgiving" to everyone we meet, but really is this the meaning of Thanksgiving. President Lincoln set up the National Holiday of Thanksgiving to give thanks to God for the Blessings given to our Country as well as our families and friends. The Pilgrims gave Thanks to God for their new home in a new land as well as new friends that helped them survive. Today some will give a little prayer before everyone digs in but we should be sending an e-mail to Heaven with every mouthful as well as every time we look into the faces of the ones we love. Every day should be thanksgiving as we thank God for the Gift of Life and a new day. Also, we should be thanking every Police, Fire or Military member for all they do and pray and Thank God for them.