Random Stuff

The chameleon enters stage right and takes a bow "Well you have had Flea, with his inimitable style, and wonderful pictures, then lets see what you make of me... so, just a place for Random Stuff, if you can't find the right thread for it, stick it in here, we will be here, with a few jokes, some tales, a smattering of poetry and philosophy....".




" ... just random see, and where anything is possible"

A repost from elsewhere then, to start things off when one or two were complaining about the "youth of today"

"And that is as it should be, when you are young, little thought of tomorrow, meagre consequence of next, just now, living for today, and yes, I could have been much more secure, perhaps, financially, if as a consequence, of staying in my own town, with the school yard friends, that I visit now and again, in their same routine, yet when I do, I know that I have seen things with these eyes that they would never believe, done things that they could not comprehend, for some of us have to burn brighter, even though it quickens the end, brings it closer, so, a different contentment for me then, for when it's time to die, perhaps, I am more ready then, no if only's, things left to try, but, still, not just yet" 

Although that was usually it, to start with, the chameleon had poked around a little more and This site is dead caught the eye "Well" he thought "...that's up to you then" and "...perhaps no more"

Another repost from elsewhere

"Well this thread has taken on a morbid bent..." says the chameleon raising an eyebrow "... but I have thought about it and looked into it, how I want to be disposed of, and seeing as the possibility of my body lying under a shield on the deck of a viking ship floating out to sea as archers fire torched arrows from the cliffs to set me ablaze on my journey to Valhalla is out of the question (I did enquire, however the local council objected, something about health & safety on canal highways)... I am going for a simpler approach then, at a burial field, by chance, not far from me, a simple ceremony where I will be buried under a tree, in a carboard box. An Ash I think, no cold headstone or plaque for me, just Dad's Tree and if they wish, they can come and give it a hug, or sit beneath it for a while, as I feed it from below, so, perhaps then, in some way I will live for a hundred years more, before I fall once more, and then I hope I burn just as bright".

"ok then one more, even though it is late an I am weary, in case it is required"

Quote :

...is it just me, or are your posts getting easier to read now...

"It's just you" he answers unusually succinctly, only to prattle on and ruin it "...although my favourate reposnse to a Random post is still "Are you sponsored by the comma?" and you have answered this question yourself, previously, how it takes a while with some writers, paricularly the classics, to get into their prose, not that in any way I would compare myself, but it's like the great Bard himself, that if you read it with your normal voice it often doesn't make any sense at all, yet if you read it with an English west country accent, suddenly it becomes clear, like if you say "beer can" in an English accent you are saying "Bacon" in a Jamaican accent...try it, there is a rhythm to it, a beat, so finally Baggy, you are getting it, as it was for me with yours, often having to read a post several times, even needing stimulants on occasion, to see it with a different perspective, and then it became second nature, often clarified when reading them with someone else who would protest "what the hell is he on about?", where to me, by then, it had become automatic... although both styles can be restrictive, dangerously addictive and instantly abhorrent, the latter I sometimes enjoy the most, particularly ones with twee sensibilities" the chameleon chuckles remembering a few verbal battles "...either way then, it stands out from the rest, and women always love a rogue and a poet, furthermore, if you have read this for the second or third time..." smiles the chameleon "...you might have seen how it changed before your very eyes, just one more clue to live writing then".

The spirit moved through cracks in the walls and appeared in her misted form. her seemingly fake hands came together in a dust spewing clap of silence. she moved around without much meaning, just watching, with nothing quite to say yet.

The chameleon felt a shiver, as if someone, or something had entered the room, he checked for any signs "No nothing, must have been just wind"

Another random repost from elsewhere then...

"We never say the good things enough do we, it's a human trait, why enthuse, when derision, or even better, nothing, will do, that stony criticism of silence, the best one, oh some are really good at that, why is it we can't encourage, praise, appreciate, applaud what someone can do, especially if it's something they are better at than you, surely no one, in this day and age, treats children otherwise, yet find it harder to do the same in "real life" with the grown ups, especially the family, so, we stick with the sarcasm, the put down, and then are perplexed, shaking our heads in resignation, at what we have created".


 

("...glad to see you here then JATS..." said the goblin, pressed for time to reply fully but he would reply tonight, adding "...good luck with this one then, the girls are very bright...")

I am not bright but since you said random things I have a reply!

:3 do you eat cereal with fruit?

Elder_Zanaya wrote:

I am not bright but since you said random things I have a reply!

:3 do you eat cereal with fruit?

"Or do I eat fruit with my cereal?" pondering this dilemma the chameleon wonders in which direction to go with this "... and yes Flea I have noticed, or I wouldn't be here otherwise, way above "duh" "WTF" and smiley's, in fact I suspect, indeed expect, wondrous things... and bright to post here? Hardly, post anything, it's random, just be a writer"

repost from elsewhere...

"I have met some remarkable people in my time and have to agree with Aristotle's claim that "there is no great genius without a mixture of madness". Many of his contemporaries as well as psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, and psychologists today agree with his statement and have argued that genius and madness are indeed linked to underlying degenerative neurological disorders. Amongst other notable studies, researchers at the Stanford University Medical Centre in 2002, ran a series of personality, temperament, and creativity tests to students studying creative or fine arts, design, and mechanical engineering. The test results showed that individuals in this group, were more likely to be moody and neurotic than a healthy control group. Moodiness and neuroticism were part of a group of characteristics these researchers used to identify mild, non-clinical forms of depression and bipolar disorder. So..." concludes the chameleon "... is there a danger of being too smart for your own good?" Meanwhile, The jatsman is happily passing on his inferior wisdom, in the shadow and  relative ignorance of such higher things, and has just again, showed the boys that little trick of gathering some toilet paper, wiping around the bowl, after they have been for a shite, then washing their hands, and so, women will love them forever".

"no repost from elsewhere here, just a respost from my mind." she silently thought to her self. "And as for being a writer is quit random but it is duely panned, for every writer truth or fiction, writes their tale in the stories they tell. Why it may seem quit confusing, but wait theres more," takes a pause to wonder what the world would think. "A writers tale is never done not even when you lay frozen to never be distrubed. This may come a surprise you say that even far after your mortal death what you leave behind takes on a life its own. Am i crazy or am i sane? That is the question people ask when they say your name. For i thought i saw his face just the other day, but it cant be but it is." stops again to ponder and listen to the keys, the sound of pen on paper or they sound of technology. Is it such a hard thing to comprehend? Now one must learn to learn to be wiser then the most wise. so i bid you god-day and a pleasant afternoon. As you go on your journey and remmeber the words.....
if one returns to another then light is to light and thought is to thought

("...I like that one a lot..." said the goblin, going back to read it a second time)

Quote :

in fact I suspect, indeed expect, wondrous things... and bright to post here? Hardly, post anything, it's random, just be a writer"

the goblin loved that line, made his day he felt, saying "...so true, so much so that sometimes one shocks oneself even, it's like those long moments late at night where the mind is in "deep think" mode, and one picks through a pile of thoughts again, till one finds something that seems to go somewhere, following it, typing it down, rubbing it half out, retyping, editing again, and on it flows in the slot, like so many advancing waves of an incoming tide, written/rubbed out partly, repeated and finished..." continuing "...only that it's not finished at all, it just been born now, oh yes it needs it's picture, but more importantly, it needs reposting, and all that editing that that entails, maybe dozens of times too...", this then was what "live writing" was about, the cutting and polishing of ones posts, keeping them alive then

"Lovely post Jes, the writers are emerging then" smiles the chameleon, as he returns from the window where he was looking out at the gentle fall of the fresh snow glistening in the light of the new moon, a little smugly with the warmth of his home made log burner on his back, and exhausted from being JATS, not from the labours of the day, but from the stress of preventing my lot from killing themselves, and those around them with exhuberent stupidity, "still it could be worse, they could be trying to do it on purpose" he thinks, with a calmer perspective now, as he picks a repost for Jes "not through sheer laziness, oh, no as Flea states, and as you will discover should you too one day decide to go on tour, instead of confining yourselves to this comfort zone, that live writing requires contstant changing and acceptance of self"

the repost then

"How many times do we see that term Normal bandied about, "I'm normal me" and "Why can't I find someone normal, just like me", it just rings alarm bells with me, anyone proclaiming to be "normal" ..."he seemed so normal" says the neighbour, to the reporter, "a lovely man" as she talks about the arrest of the latest lunatic... give me quirky, the abnormal, someone with similar idiosyncrasies, everybody trying to be normal, to fit in with society, filled with angst, despair, at not quite being there, just be "almost normal", be you, that will do".

Normalcy doesn't exist..." whispers the spirit so softly it sounds like a light breeze. "yet it is what is craved...by fearing people...who so hauntingly wish to be normal, to live normally, to be like everyone else..."

"Ah now I see you" smiles the chameleon as the spirit starts to take on form "... you shouldn't hide in the shadows so much, no, not you, most of all " ...although he knows too well the handy trick of blending into the background once in a while, but some just go too far and completely disappear"

"Oh take that again Hussain, I blinked"

"Oh but to disappear is lovely!" the spirit mused, sitting within a crack of the wall. "And I, aye me, love to disappear. To see how simple it is for one to no longer exist, how quickly the beings around that person, that thing, that being, simply...move on. Its a morbid sadtality that i love more than anything else upon watching. it is sad, yet it is true, and yet the truth is not the truth for things that are known were made up at one time. it is so very interesting."

"To try and be normal is not to be yourself" she said while starring out the bedroom window at two birds upon a wire. "If everyone was normal their would be no creativity, you ask how I have an answer. If everyone was to be the same and to be like one another and have the same thoughts, then when one picks up a very good looking book would know excactly where it goes and how it ends." She says and turns to pace the old tathered floor. "It is the difference between everyone of us all that can make the world such a unique place to be. You cannnot be afraid to take risk"

(short, subtle, sweet, but that was JATS's posts for you)

"Oh I can be Flea, and annoyingly verbose" that's the trouble with chameleons though, you never know who they will be next "... so back to business then, and yes Jes, "You cannnot be afraid to take risk", and I do like to encourage my little ones, another reminder of the "Litany of Fear" then, which I have used at 2,000 feet above ground, at 400 foot under the sea, on the edge of many a precipice, hanging on by my fingertips, and any other time I felt the fear flow... "

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

"... If you can't remember it at the time, just use the first two lines over and over again"

"Fear is only as existent as you make it so. Just as all things truly are. if you create a math equation, and then on create your own numbers, you can create your answer. You'll always be correct. but only to you. Fear is the same. You can show no fear yet fear all, or show all fear and truly fear nothing. the only way to know is not just to look fear in the eye, but in the mirror and to see how you interact with and without said fear." the spirit mused almost silently, hiding behind the stage curtains with a simple glide.

"Exquisitely put" already suspecting he will have to find new superlatives here "... a question then, a riddle perhaps, if you are allowed one KILL in your life, you don't have to do it yourself, there would be paid assassins for it, which would help check the rise in unemployment, a handy by product, unless of course you insist..." the chameleon pauses, for effect "... you only get one, in a lifetime, a free hit, anyone you like, who has pissed you off, that would be it, curtains, gone from the planet, but only one, with no comebacks, would make you think, wouldn't it, would it make people more careful who they upset, would the world be a better place, with this sword of Damocles hanging over peoples heads?"

"Answer me, dear being, how there could be such? If only aloud one kill upon a life assassins would have none but one job upon their life! and in that they would loose their very own kill for kill for another, who though destroying a 'paper' trail, could keep their 'one' kill. so said sword would shatter under circumstance." the spirit smiled as she mused the thought upon her mind. "but alas, i have seen all i wish to disappear disappear for death brings that to all one at a time."

Fear,,,boredom....that strange rationalites from the curse of the normal..


how bland and tasteless. being normal is a curse, your passion, the anti-venon.

"but sage! it is a curse that is not even possible to gather!"

need to gather not, only feel. it is a little reminder that tags your heart's rythm.
you will know its sign...with every sign...a gentle sigh.

^_^

creativeness cannot exist without this standard.though bland, it needs to be there.