Rogues
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Smartest Man On The Cinder
Friday, May 13, 2011
"A Secret Between Friends" (Fibonacci Sequence Story)
"Don't.
"Please?"
"Why not?"
"Bad idea, man."
"I don't know…seems, possible."
Eleven stories just didn't seem high to me.
My favorite movie moment is Indiana Jones, stepping off into the nothingness.
"Is this how you want to celebrate your twenty-fifth birthday? Standing on a hotel rooftop with your closest friend, cradling a full-on Bronson?"
The stars were particularly inviting. Their twinkling, iridescent path paved an inviting direction for me to walk. A celestial runway poked into the indigo canopy of dusk. Missing, however, was the push I needed.
It came like a wind. If I recall the moment clearly, it was wind. A strong wind. It barreled over the building and took my legs from underneath me. Friends with gym memberships should be valued at times like these. As if to challenge my resolve, she held me at the building’s edge.
"So, I'll ask you again: what the fuck made you think this was a good idea? As a matter-of fact, while I've got your complete and undivided attention, why the fuck did I think this was a good idea? Oh, yeah, I didn't think it was a good idea. I am doing my best to understand what's going on with you right now, but you are not helping, and I'm considering leaving you here to sort it out yourself because this is freaking crazy. You know what? I'm out."
She pulled me up with an ease a witness could describe as herculean. Although I hung over the edge of certain death for about three minutes, it felt like forever. The hum of the city nightlife shook the air, the vibrations clearly reverberated in my bones. Thousands of orange light bulbs reflected off tinted windows and conglomerated as just two gleaming stars in her eyes. Halfway up onto the rough cement ledge, she looked at me, and smoothly pulled me up to my feet. When our eyes were level, I could see the well of tears clearly. She would keep them trapped on the precarious precipice of her eyelashes perpetually. The look on her face froze, like so much coffee stained porcelain poised to shake me from my task. Without saying a word, I asked her to stay. My best friend smiles, “Testing my ability? Not this dangerous.”
The rate of gravity is nine point eight meters per second per second. The average human terminal velocity in free-fall is one-hundred and twenty miler per hour. Diving in free-fall ramps the speed up, and the record is some unimaginable number that need not be stated. I realized early on that the room for error on this was minimal if not infinitesimal. Suicide was never in the plans, but it seemingly grew on me as inspiration for this dramatic act. This is where I'd make my stand.
I returned to my place at the building's edge. Closed my eyes, tasted the humid, late Fall air on my lips. Thought about what not waking up would feel like, chuckled, realized I wouldn't feel a thing. Her shaking hands, gentle on the small of my back. Keeping me tethered, but eager to propel me.
"I'm ready. And it's okay, really. I'll be fine. To be honest, I've never felt as comfortable as when I'm in places like these. On rollercoasters, in fast cars, airplanes…This feels right to me."
My life had been led up to this moment. An ironic thought to have had at the time. I stepped off.
I fell about maybe forty feet before I began to slow my descent.
I rose slowly to meet her gaze.
"How are you doing that?"
"...I can fly."
"You knew?"
"No."
"…Asshole!"
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Effects of Light (Departure)
Flash (~~~>)
The Earth is crumbling. Coming undone, like so much stitching, unravelling. Just bigger. I have no idea to why I am here, at the end of things. No clue how I'm able to be here while everyone else is gone. I cannot help it. It'll all be over soon. The oceans are boiling, the ground is thin and brittle as ice in Spring. There will never be another Spring. Gray's last words to me were, "Do what you gotta. I gotta do what I been doing, running. See ya…" He ran until his feet stopped touching the ground, the proximity of the sun vibrating his every cell into pure speed. He was smiling, and dissipating into a beautiful blurring nothing. Before the end of it all, he flew. He'll never know now, but that's what he always did, he was never just fast - in reality he projected a charge that decreased his friction with the smallest of molecules. I miss True. She did what she does, opened her mouth to the sky and sang, repelled an incoming solar flare. She screams my name, because of all the vowels, they force her to open her mouth wider. I am watching God write creation in reverse.
Flash (<~~~)
The Earth crumbles. It's really sand. I love the sandbox the day after it rains. Clumps of rough dirt that make funny grinding noises in my ears because somehow it gets in my mouth. Rays of sun peeking out from behind clouds and painting Gray in pastel blues while resting in his pastel baby purse, bjorn, sling, thingy…A car pulls into the playground parking lot, as soon as the passenger door opens, a screech shatters the calm of the day. A small brown girl pokes her body out of the door and walks angrily to the sandbox. "Hi. Want some sand?" I say, as altruistic as I can imagine. "No!!!!!!!" She says, as loud as possible. Mom picks me up, and says softly in my ear, "I hope you never turn out like that one." I looked back to the sandbox, shrinking in the distance, and thought I heard someone say, "Come back, I need someone to play with." The sun shone proud in the pale indigo of the sky. Gray shuffled uncomfortably in his carrier, as if to free himself from his bondage and run before he'd learned to walk.
Information
Earthshine is the phenomenon of sunlight reflecting off of the Earth and shining on the Moon. That's what we are being called now, The Earthshine. We are a reflection of the connection the sun has with the planet. UV rays are broken into three types: UVA, UVB, AND UVC. UVA is a long wavelength transmitted from the sun, it gives us our brown skin and tightly curled hair. It is the natural form of energy. UVB and UVC are shorter, more kinetic wavelengths. The ones that burn us if out in the sun too long. We don't burn, we metabolize the shorter wavelengths, turning the heat into something else entirely. I call them 'expressions'. We express the sun's light in our different ways, but we still don't know why. I express via higher brain functionality, Gray expresses a frictionless molecular existence, and True expresses a psychokinetic relationship to sonic frequency modulation. We shine in the daylight, and glow a bit at night.
Waves and Particles
The others we've been traveling with have each exhibited some form of 'expression'. None as far advanced as True, Gray, and I, but noticeable physiological differences. The change in flora and fauna led us to believe we'd crossed into Canada a few days ago. We've picked up some nomads along the way from L.A. Two cousins, a gym teacher, three Washington police officers, two guys (Scott and Steve), and a slew of other folks met on the long road to where we are now. I haven't spoken to Gray in a day or so, he scouts so far ahead of us recently I wonder if he'll up and run off the face of the planet someday. True has kept excellent company however. She says things to me that I don't understand, although I know what she is going to say before she's done thinking it. Why is it no matter how smart we are or aspire to be, we never understand the opposite sex? When she sleeps at night, I look in her direction just to see her glow bronze against the purple of the night sky. She is Aurora Borealis to me. We kiss when no one is paying attention. It makes a sound, a faint humming. A steady bass line, in tune with the resonance of the Earth, Moon, Sun, and stars. We vibrate. We can feel it when our teeth touch by accident. We are so scared out in the wilderness, without our parents or societal markers. When we're near each other we forget the situation we're dealing with, and become entangled in one another. On a really sunny day, we made love for the first time. She was loud, and I was quiet. I could feel her every living process. Then we didn't speak for a while after. It's like this feeling comes and goes in waves. When she's walking ahead of me, I stand downwind, anxious for her particles to ride the wind and find me ready.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Echoes
were casted as the background's understudy. Again in the foreground,
the bastard child of four fathers, now scorned by our fore-fathers for
disrespecting our single mothers in public. The revolution done
changed, Black man changed shades, Black girl turned blonde, I thought
I heard echoes of victory - turned around and the sorrow in this
song... Can you hear it?
~~~>Listen, my people speaking, spilling blood in these streets/
It takes a toll on my soul, everyday I feel like leaving/
I hear my people crying, and them tears keep streaming/
Everytime I try I try to leave...they start to scream like/
From forefathers, to martyrs, folk don't seem to regard us/
But they seen waters walked on, seen brothers auctioned/
Topics that talk on, people see and walk on/
Get tripped up, on what i spit up - now they sidewalks is chalked on/
I'm locked on - focused on the heat that make the beat dope/
I blow the winds of change just to ventilate the weed smoke/
You speak frail, what I spit you can feel, son I speak braille/
I spit fire, that's why you kill dragons when they inhale/
Two niggas foght under orange lamps,
Such a sorry sight forced me to cast away hope.
Being one observer, long I watch and thought,
"How redundant the term 'project growth'".
You see I, I speak the word less spoken by,
And all my people show me is disinterest...Can you hear it?
~~~>Listen, my people speaking, spilling blood in these streets/
It takes a toll on my soul, everyday I feel like leaving/
I hear my people crying, and them tears keep streaming/
Everytime I try I try to leave...they start to scream like/
Good Evening my people. I say 'evening' because I see the sun setting
on our culture, our very way of living. I see the decades and
centuries cascade past skyscrapers; the struggle, the
progress...chasing the fleeting sunlight. I say 'good evening', 'cause
I'm afraid we just missed twilight.
How To Make A Slave"
They shake us, break us, make us... hate us.
Separate us, negate us, give us...take us.
Reshape us, tie us up to change us, mold us ,controlled us...bought us, sold us.
Or so Lynch told us...
and now we're just files in folders, denying our culture, relying on quotas, and
lying on sofas, and dying much slower, complying with vultures. A
taste of death is what you get, when dining with vultures. Now these
bloods and crips cry on my shoulders. I control my fears, hold my
tears so I can see the source, and of course it's this work force.
They force work on this work horse. From nine to five it's their
house, let one of us in the play 'house', then it's "our house".
Descention in our ranks, we walk our own planks, but master produced
them, seduced them, subterfuge us to reuse us, used the dead to feed
the living, we're not born we're grown into this. Then by those who
love us shown to this: Be slaves to this U.S.
~~~>Step up, step up. Step up to this auction block,
Take a look around, you still on the block.
Slavery never changed, slavery never stopped,
We used to throw stones, now we shoot glocks,
The chains they use to bind us are the chains that we rock...
Listen, to the strained voice of an estranged youth: we can't afford
to hang loose, we're already strange fruit. With no knowledge of self,
and thus, strained roots. Tims or name brand ankle shackles, same
boots. Them cats on the block who yell "Ma!!", they got blame too, but
master destroyed the male image and frame too. It's still no excuse to
slave trade our own, name game our own, gang bang our own, then
"Bang-Bang!!" our own. Front hard like this land is home, when post
forty and a mule we ain't got land to own, except the piece of earth
the we standing on. Truth is, someone in Knot's Landing owns the house
you're planning to build your family on. These silent weapons eat away
at your shelter like Homer Simpson in a candy home. I'm here to make
your situations gladly known, cats is making slaves right out your
family's homes.
~~~>Step up, step up. Step up to this auction block,
Take a look around, you still on the block.
Slavery never changed, slavery never stopped,
We used to throw stones, now we shoot glocks,
The chains they use to bind us are the chains that we rock...
Monday, March 21, 2011
Mulberry Bridges
Saturday, March 12, 2011
"The Effects of Light" (Arrival)
We’d been walking for two weeks already, only resting at night. We were asked to clear the large cities as soon as possible. No one asked any questions, it seemed pretty serious. I didn’t know California had a desert. I didn’t know it was so big.
My little brother Grey walks so fast. I know it’s because he’s got shorter legs and takes smaller strides, but he says the sun makes him faster. One day, as the sun set behind a mountain, Grey sought to race its shadow in the waning light of the sun. He ran so fast…but the inevitable is resolute. When the shade caught up with Grey, his stride slowed, and shortened, then lengthened, then stopped.
The next morning, Grey ran ahead of the entire group, all day, without stopping. There was no shade to speak of.
Reflection
We couldn’t tell if we were going south or north, or any direction in particular. The announcements to evacuate L.A. were really sudden, and really organized. The P.A. system at my high school told us absolutely nothing. All students: please leave the building in an orderly fashion. There is a state of emergency being issued by the President of the United States for the state of California. Please go home.
As we were packing our bookbags, I met a pair of worried eyes. True. True Holiday. If you’re going to fall for someone, they should at least have an awesome name. I’ve had a crush on her since middle school, I think she knows my name.
The desert is starting to give way to woods or something, small plants poke through the grains of sand like snakes. One bites me, and I realize the desert isn’t giving way at all, there are a lot of snakes here. As the medic of the group comes to my aid, his panicked tone and sweaty palms inform me of the seriousness of the bite. His apprentice has the most beautiful bronze skin. She meets my eye, and says that everything will be fine. Then she says my name. True. In the distance, I see a shimmer, it looks like Mom.
Gleam
Surrounded by giant Sequoias, casting long vestiges of their profile against the uneven and escalating terrain, the group can safely ascertain that we’ve been traveling north since leaving L.A. The last month blew right by us, and now we know what Lewis and Clark have dealt with. After looking back at my own journal entries, I am noticing a pattern in my language. It’s an odd feeling. I feel it often. Yesterday, a tree fell in the woods. A really big tree. Grey moved two people twenty feet away before it fell. He’s getting faster. I..I pushed True into the path of the falling tree, tripped Grey, and pushed a flat slate of boulder toward the tree. All within seconds of one another. True hit the ground hard, behind the flat rock, which propped up the tree. True’s left leg tripped Grey, who was trying in vain to save a third person from the tree’s fall, also behind the flat rock. It was amazingly fast, but somehow I knew it would happen that way. True was pretty pissed at me.
Refraction
Now we are moving into Washington. The Space Needle is threading in and out of the horizon. We haven’t decided whether we should avoid cities or not, we still don’t know what’s happened. We came across a radio a few days back, I’ve been following a radiowave pattern I can hear without telling the others.
True spoke to me yesterday. I knew what she was going to say before she spoke, I could read her body language. I said, “You’re welcome.” I said it before she had taken a breath in to say ‘thank you’. Then I said, “I don’t know how, I just see and hear, and feel patterns. It’s getting more intense by the day.” Then she stopped trying to talk and just stared at me. Then she kissed me quickly, and whispered, “You did not see that coming. Did you?” Then her eyes grew inches in diameter, her blood started rushing, I could see her pulse quicken, saw what her mouth started to say, and spun to meet four people with guns.
As these strangers were delivering an intimidating diatribe, I could hear True muttering prayers, just barely audible. She was standing four feet away from me, but I could hear her clearly. I thought the fear was making my hearing clearer, but then I recognized the sonic wave patterns in her speech, they were amplifying. I nodded to Grey, and he became a blur. Dashing behind True, grabbing her around the waist and squeezing, True screamed. I yelled, “Down!” The group followed my lead. The sound was deafening, and the wind caused by True’s sonic assault blew all four assailants at least forty yards away and knocked down two trees. All this sun must be good for us.