Love Song - January 1, 2011If you would be my carpet
They'd never get my blood out of you
And the only thanks you'd get is
For being the quarter of an inch
Between me and rock bottom
Quantum AnthropodynamicsWhen particles were particles
And waves were waves
We adhered to the pavement with every step
Spread like butter from work to home and
But we were there.
While I am here:
Everywhere, not anywhere
But still entangled
The MissionaryIt is my father's work
When I hammer through the floor
And break the earth, and breathe the dust
That others would ignore
It is a holy task
When I find myself undone
And confusion, pain and weakness shine
In front of everyone
It is salvation's song
When I stumble off the road
And in fear I just look forward, for
My comfort's the unknown
Diluvium, Part VIt took a man of uncommon sense to keep a human skeleton and 55 pounds of pork in his freezer for a rainy day. As for the measure of Damien's common sense, it was precisely enough to think to close his blinds before removing these contents from his freezer, and not quite enough to think to close them any sooner.
Damien was acutely aware and moderately resentful that it was possible to question his intelligence. The words "city engineer" did not denote any degree of intellect so much as an incapacity for the rigours of physical labour. An engineer was not a jack of all trades, an engineer was not a genius; an engineer was a jack of one trade, a mere assembly-line worker in a factory that produced genius.
The corpse Damien handled might have been described as "fully decayed", but the bones were far from bleached, and enough dessicated flesh remained to give the skeleton substantial integrity; although the occasional bone and limb became
Diluvium, Part IVCause and effect is a beautiful thing. Consider the glory in a child's realization that fire, the great enemy, the destroyer, can be overcome simply by depriving it of air. And how, returning year after year to the same park, one can witness the power of a single insect to distort the growth of an entire tree. And how, when the length of a day falls below twelve hours, one can know it's only a matter of time before the force holding up that tree's leaves is somehow overwhelmed by the force turning them red. On any day, no matter how bad, one can surely take comfort in such things as the simple, rock-solid faith that an object cast from their window will still inevitably hit the ground.
Cause and effect is a bitch. Here's cause and effect: if you don't work, you don't eat. And how about how one social misstep can snowball and change the course of your life for years to come? And how being 24 means that one has
Diluvium, Part IIIBelladonna Crescent was a crescent. It comprised a semicircle of ten complexes each complex had ten buildings; each building, ten units; each unit, ten floors; each floor, nine apartments. That an engineer should have a ground-floor apartment suggested that Damien was not a stranger to blackmail.
When Charles found the address from the business card and knocked on the door, the first sound he heard in reply was a prolonged scraping of metal coming from within. After half a minute the door was finally unlatched and opened, revealing that Damien had somehow installed a second door a blast door behind it.
"Took you long enough. Retirement was starting to get boring," said Damien with strained good humour. There were circles under his eyes.
In spite of its prime location and peculiar retrofit, Damien's apartment was smaller than Charles's. It radiated a sense of disarray without containing any sub
Diluvium, Part IICharles sat cross-legged on his bed and murmured to himself, "Yesterday was a bad day."
Today might have been a good day. For all Charles knew, today could still be a good day. It certainly could have been a worse day. If the sun had only risen in hopes of casting its diffuse rays on a changed world, this world wasn't doing much to give it the satisfaction. Charles had not awoken in the middle of a blizzard or choking on poisoned air; outside, the birds still sang and the busses still ran. That Damien fellow, Charles thought, distracting himself from his meditation, was clearly being overdramatic.
"Yup, a bad day," he said with some force, attempting to regain his focus.
Charles's particular brand of spirituality did not fit the profile of any established religion so well as it did a profile of paranoia. He very well may have been diagnosed with schizophrenia if he had ever visited a psychiatrist who
Diluvium, Part IIt was no coincidence that Damien thought Charles Oldenburg was Death the first time they met.
The evening was aperiodic and ominous. The maroon sky was strangely choosy as it aperiodically spat on those below; a landing suborbital plane cut an unnatural swath through the sanguine glow, revealing the aperiodic sparkle of yellow stars beyond. Several blocks away, dance clubs churned out an aperiodic and madly popular beat, which apart from the tempo was indistinguishable from the aperiodic ebb and flow of activity in the alley where Damien stood. The alley was at this moment deserted, but for one other man.
It was no coincidence that Damien thought Charles Oldenburg was Death the first time they met. This was in part because Damien had long since stopped questioning the impossible. In an age gone by, he was told, rational consideration of nature's rules had dispelled superstition. But in an age when humans made the rules?