jayhat

Archive for the ‘Ancillarious’ Category

Two thoughts:

In Ancillarious, physics-nature-etc., What people are on October 5, 2010 at 9:23 pm

When stuck outside in a rainstorm and without an umbrella, the safest place to be is wherever you are, accepting of the circumstances that, yes, it is raining, and, yes, you will be getting wet. There is no point in fighting the elements you do not control, and there is no point in regretting that you had not foreseen unforeseen circumstances.

You will get wet and you might even get cold.

***

Something I’ve been thinking about:

Power is directly proportional to the leverage one entity has over another.

Force of will and manipulation can encourage people to act, but ultimately, if one does not have the means to act on their threat, then they have no one to threaten. Conversely, if one has nothing to be threatened, then he or she is at the mercy of no one.

Yes—this applies to work and life and relationships. Yes—this applies to larger entities like countries and corporations and law.

…however, defining “it” might be troublesome…

In Ancillarious, What people are on September 27, 2010 at 7:57 pm

It wasn’t about love or affection or caring or respect—it was about sanity. It was about knowing what was going on, in his life, in her life, in life in general. About knowing what to expect—or rather, knowing what not to expect. Or rather, ruling out possibilities. Or rather, shifting things from grey to maybe or mayhaps. It was about being able to organize thought, to plan ahead—if only by a half-step, and not even knowing for certain if it was forward or backward—about trying to make the best choice in the now, in what is said, in what is done, in what is had. Ambivalence isn’t apathy, isn’t indecision, isn’t agnosticism, not atheism. Ambivalence is active, it’s caring about not caring.

A bit about Rudd

In Ancillarious, novelish, physics-nature-etc., What people are on September 20, 2010 at 9:30 pm

There were a number of times, in particular, when Rudd seriously considered killing himself.

Most recently, he stood 65 floors above the empty sidewalk, looking out over a balcony that’s railing eyed, flirted, teased, seduced him. He wasn’t depressed or angry or even annoyed. He wasn’t worried or tense or stressed or numb. Moreover, he was curious what it would be like to fall, to let go, to be bound only by gravity, and to know that, for once, one’s fate is truly, utterly, determined.

Perhaps, then, in this sense, the act of jumping to his death was less about the end as it was about the means. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t considering killing himself as much as he was considering the act of jumping.

Or falling.

That it would end with a splatter was ancillary.

He wasn’t scared, and that’s what made him—on a wholly different level, a far more self-aware, less-instinctual level—a bit nervous. His brain, fighting instinct against instinct grew tired, and the prospect of jumping became less interesting and more terrifying, if only slightly so. He decided that the best thing to do might be to go back inside.

He wondered how people could survive living so high above the ground, always tempted by the sense that destiny was just a lift and a kick away.

CHAPTER TITLE — “Number 16″

In Ancillarious, Kilgore Trout, novelish, What people are on September 15, 2010 at 6:32 pm

Shortly before everything went up in a ball of fiery molten hell, a poll was conducted by the Census and Statistics Authority that, ostensibly, was intended to find out how the government might better spend intranational defense funds.

At least insofar as the public eye was concerned.

In a poll distributed to nearly 3,500 consenting adults, auditors asked a number of preliminary questions ranging from socioeconomic status to education to knowledge of current events.

They even asked what brand of bud they wore.

Then, they were given a list of fifteen potential ways that the world might end. Number 16 was “Other.” Below that was the question “How?” and a few blank lines for free response, at the bottom of which was a small line of text reading “If more space is required for response, please write on another sheet and attach.”

Respondents were then asked to rank the cataclysms in terms of perceived likelihood.

The results of the poll and the implications therein were disputed within media for weeks. Many respondents failed to rank “Other,” while others ranked “other” without giving explanation of what “other” might be. Others misunderstood the intent of the “How?” and wrote, instead, explanations of why they ranked such and such wherever or discussed what they were thinking about or feeling or, simply, “Because.”

Many people in media pointed to the vagueness of the poll, discussing it as just another failure of a malarkey administration, another failure of a corrupt government entity, an indication of a broader public ignorance or a general disregard for testing in the schools, another reason the CSA is unreliable, etc.

The results became a punchline. Extra terrestrial alien invasion was third. God was fifth.

Incidentally, media called the poll “The End Day Survey.” Its actual name: “Public Poll A039281-29: Requested By The Department Of Defense At The Urging Of The Secretary Of Intranational Defense.”

Hmm…

In Ancillarious, Uncategorized on July 9, 2010 at 2:31 am

Maybe I should start writing posts again.

Quick Haiku:

breathe free kind donkey
tomorrow you brush your teeth
for now, your gums rot

The Fall

In Ancillarious, novelish, Writing on September 17, 2009 at 7:54 pm

Something happened and then the midnight sky bled with the embers of a burning city.

Below, a stale crimson fog lavished and hung. The sewers flooded through broken pipes, a viscous water that stank of dog and rot and sweat, an earthy dew that salted the seas of crumbled grain.

Within minutes, they grey remains of death covered the streets, inches deep in a mid-summer blizzard, each unique flake a piece of something that used to be. Leaves, stone, people, birds, glass, metal, wood, rubber, plastic, tile, bugs and worms and grubs. All soot and ash. Crosses, apses, domes, pillars and pews and pulpits. All soot and ash.

Within hours, waves washed the streets. Mildew corpses moldered in fish stew, a fecund boil that begat a fine green salt that dried in clumps and lined the rubble with undulating stencils that parodied the tide…

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.