Wrote you a love letter Then tore it up to bits Took the shredded pieces Threw them in a pit Setting it on fire Watched the passion glow Each piece flared from another The flames of nevermore Wrote you a love letter Knew I would not send Wrote you a love letter Sealed it with my blood Stood there with the ashes As they crumbled away The wind sent some flying Forever out of reach The seasons took the rest Let it slip away Walked away in silence Left behind a stain Wrote you a love letter Knew I would not send Wrote you a love letter Words etched in my head Wrote you love, and Sealed it with my blood
“Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them.” ~ ~ Dion Boucicault
And Khronos took notice. Once noticed it remains noticed, an open loop that takes in what was before/what is now/what will be to come. Keeper of Time. Lord of Time. A god at the same time beyond what (ZV) could ever conceive of. Though, they are close. Time, in their grasp. Time, pulling them. Time, the endless possibilities, reconstructions, revisions, creation, immortal. To be Khronos. To be gods. To be THE Titan.
(ZV) was reaching/was holding/HAD HELD…
So it was
(ZV) is not there.
Disassembled to elementary particles
Then disassembled again
Z careens off of time lines, beginnings, endings, middles.
V is spread like a schmear across parallel universes
They cross paths as they zig zag in and out of dimensions
Time has no meaning
Khronos notices the irony
Z is lost in the absolute infinity
Valentina trespasses in her wake
Val descends into Zehara, a Mobius strip
A thousand-thousands of their beings are obliterated
To get back to a lab
It is not precise this time
They float, together, in front of Karen.
This is the day (ZV) doesn’t die.
It was (ZV)’s thought to do so
But never the intention.
Comments are always welcome and appreciated.
TALES OF TALE SPINNING
The A to Z Epics, More or Less
I started Tale Spinning at the beginning of 2011 as an offshoot of BornStoryteller. The latter went more towards non-fiction, rants, comparisons, and observations. Tale Spinning: an experiment in creative writing was the space I needed.
Since then, I’ve gone through periods of both non-stop writing and those “dry” spells, where nothing inspired or motivated me.
Joining the A to Z Blogging Challenge in April 2011 was one of the smartest moves I’ve ever made. I’ve pushed my own boundaries over the ten years, always looking for that “challenge.” Taking risks is stimulating. A lot of what I write is expressing what is burning within me at the moment.
Which is probably why I have trouble continuing plunging into the worlds and characters I’ve built over the years. The roller-coaster upheaval of my life during these last ten years have jaggedly flowed from euphoric to complete and utter numbness. This isn’t a pity party. Just stating the facts, ma’am.
Many bloggers/writers I have “met along the way have become family. What is “Family is Chosen” for $2,000, Alex?” (Man, I miss Alex Trebek. Right now, I am Team Levar Burton to become the new host. Reading Jeopardy Rainbow!). It’d take me the rest of the day (it’s early here) to point you all out, but my thanks and love are hereby sent. I even met the woman I love writing these blog posts during that first A to Z. Present tense, even though we are not together anymore.
List Time. In case, you know, want to read past (and present) A to Z attempts. Each set starts with A on April 1st of that year. There might be a few preceding posts/teases over the years as I tried out the new voice I was shooting for.
A TO Z POSTS
- 2021: Liquid Time (Current Series)
- 2020: Nightmares from an Unbleached Soul (Lyrical Poetry, 25 posts)
- 2019: A Car In the Woods (Science Fiction/Horror/Thriller, 27 posts)
- 2018: The Abysmal Dollhouse (Serial Paranormal/Horror story, 26 posts)
- 2016: Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas (Serial Detective story, 26)
- 2014: Road Signs (Drabbles-100 words Exactly, 26)
- 2012: The Apartment Building: Swan Rise (Serial drama, 26)
- 2011: The Lesser of Two Evils (attempted SciFi satire, 23 posts)
Here’s something not A to Z that I’d love to get your feedback/comments. I keep getting drawn back to it on an emotional/mental level, but have not added a thing to it in quite a while. These were written during the summer of 2011.
“Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.” ~ Douglas Adam
FLOAT POD co
Z is keening.
The sound is crisply clear. The recessed wall mics in the FP are attuned to the lab speakers.
The keening spits out of the quadrasonic subwoofers.
“Whoa. What the hell? It’s never been this lo…”
“Hey, I know. I know. But…that sound. From that thing.”
“That “thing” inside the FP is a person. That “sound” is being recorded.”
“As are we.”
“I know. I know. I kinda meant the FP.”
“Shit. Really? Kind of?”
” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~”
“What are you mumbling about now?”
“Never mind. Forget I asked.”
“I said, Ms. Grammar Patrol…no. Fuck it.”
“When are we being relieved? We’re overdue.”
A hand slams the console.
“You know the when. Again and again. You’re worse than a child’s ad nauseam ‘Are we there yet?’ Enough.”
“I want out.”
“I mean it this time. I do. This is as stressful as it is boring. My yawns bore the other yawns.”
Counts to three.
“Look, we don’t know when that freak will go nuke, but we know it will happen. Aren’t you tired of this?”
Z’s keening elevates to 142 dB from a steady 50 dB.
“Shit shit shit!.”
Tries to mute the system. Fingers are grabbed; bent backwards.
Tears wiped away. Damaged hand nursed in the opposite axilla.
“Fuck. Why did you do that?”
The wail crossfades to 0 dB. No increase.
The control panels spark.
“Hey. Your ear. You’re dripping blood. No. The other ear.”
“You get what anybody gets. You get a lifetime.” ~ Neil Gaiman
Epoch: Liquid Time
Comments are always welcome.
WHO DO YOU WRITE FOR?
SOME A TO Z BIZ
In case you did not notice, I am taking a huge leap/risk in style, content, and formatting with LIQUID TIME. So, who am I writing for? Just for myself? Just for the audience? 50/50?
Most times it is for myself, to see how far I can stretch, hone my skills. How, on later rereads, does it hold up way past the due date of the emotions that pummeled me while writing. I take risks. Not every one of them pans out. Some lead me to different approaches, different research, different observations of life.
On the readers hand(s), I do do my crafting for the reader(s) as well. I look for commentary, what pleases, what doesn’t, the whys behind either stance one takes. Suggestions are taken in the (hopefully) intention’s delivery, as a “have you thought about…?” or “Would you consider…”; a way that I construe as just that: a suggestion from another’s POV.
Suggestions, for me to think about, to possibly add to, delete, or turn things around. They are given to support, encourage, and give the author a different POV lens to consider.
I do not take demands into consideration. Nor the comments that essentially read “If I was the author…” or “You should not…” Well, you aren’t the author, that’s in my hands. As to the “should not…?” Really? Really?
“No” hasn’t a place here in Tale Spinning. My cranky two cents, plus inflation.
LINKS LINKS LINKS
Liquid Time Postings
A to Z Main Link & Blogs to Follow
I will post more blog links I follow later in the week. Please visit & leave them a comment
“My past is everything I failed to be.” ~ Fernando Pessoa
Z writhed through bouts of slaughter.
An eternal splintering of that moment(s).
Here, the push. The electricized rail. The train.
Here, the backhand. The kick. The stairway. The neck.
Here, the rifle. The scope. The contract. The hit.
Here, the airlock. The depressurizing. The ejections.
Here, the bolt, the honed Bowie, the smile.
The neck. The liver. The heart
The blood. The blood. The bisection.
Trespassing under sea, through the stars, across the multiverse, homes, hovels, a maze of mazes.
There was no end.
Z slayed everywhere.
It was too much.
It was too much.
It was, too much.
body locked killing blows body locked ejected released hired passion hunted hunter poisoner stalker ripper strangler clown giggling gouger monster butcher mad-man/woman self-defense abuse insanity cold-stone drugged drunk protection protecting pro-active suicidal sadistic black widow peeping tom cowboy vampire torturer exsanguination executioner
Z’s hands dripped red.
Z became another moment.
Z’s eyes closed, teeth clenched, long exhalation.
Z collapsed into Fetal Prime.
This is the day Z doesn’t die
Z was/is/will be
Sunday, April 2, 2021: A list!
Monday, April 5, 2021: D
Comments/feedback are always welcome.
“Shard by shard we are released from the tyranny of so-called time.” Patti Smith
FLOAT POD c
Z is not in a raster format.
Yet, pixelated within the FP (Float Pod), Z is obscured. There are no filters, graininess, or fuzziness. Z is not enlarged in the chamber; more the reverse. In the perverse total dark, floating on chemical laden liquid, Z contemplates a linear spiral.
It began once the Pod door was shut, blocking out the lights of the room, a total eclipse of fluorescent tube bulbs.
Awareness fades with ease. Z has/is/will experience(d)(ing) the mindful disassociation gift that the FP offers. Not a womb as others had/have/will deride(d) it. Z dives freely, embracing the dissolution, not surrendering to it. Z does not know where the absolute certainty in the purity of the Float Pod comes from. Yet, it is there.
Z vibrates from a pure, righteous (without the trappings), hole in Z’s soul. It is all encompassing.
Unintentionally, Z synch’s into the O². The plunge causes
z to fracture
every muscle seized trembling to an unheard beat z’s middle twisted into a double fisher man’s knot numbness came taking control z slipped away from z in any tense a full force centrifuge bodily liquids separated density versus density the shell splintering no control no control z found every zeptosecond of z’s life if z hadn’t been in synch there might have have been, is a, or will be a z no warning that
Z fell into a moment. One Z had been able to walk away from. The next moment was just as bad as the preceding one. Z knew the pattern. Z’s fists clenched.
Schrödinger’s Float Pod sat in it’s birth.
This is the day Z doesn’t die
Z was/is/will be
So the journey begins. Backwards, like the Ghost of Christmas Past.
I want to give thanks to MAXIME LAGACÉ of Wisdom Quotes.
Yes, the internet is full of links to a plethora of quote sites. I’ve cherry picked the specific ones that have wound up on past posts. This time, Wisdom Quotes made it easy with one stop shopping. Uh, I mean copying. Yeah. That. There’s a powerful story behind the Wisdom Quotes site. More power to Maxime Lagacé.
Special note: If you are seeing a Kurt Vonnegut “Slaughterhouse 5” feel to this, it’s a semi-conscious choice. Z is by no means Billy Pilgrim, and I am not trying to plagiarize Mr. Vonnegut’s amazing book in any way. A beginning homage? I’ll plead the fifth on that one. With Continuance (April 3rd), Z begins the tread to elsewhere.
Please leave any comments &/or feedback below. It is always much appreciated.
C you tomorrow.
LIQUID TIME PATH
YOU ARE THERE
There isn’t a map that points to where you are. There isn’t a Mall, Zoo, Amusement Park, Tactical Training Range, whatever. Do you need to know the exact spot you occupy? The exact moment in time? You’ve asked yourself, or others, “Why am I here?” It’s an unanswerable question. This isn’t peace during wartime. You are there, but you are not aware of that.
Z is not fixed.
Buoyed at 33.8889° C. The heptahydrate MgSO4·7H2O balances the interior gravity at approximately of 1.26. The FP (Float Pod) is sound proof, light proof, but not air proof. The Air Circulation System (ACS) brings in more air. Humidity often reaches 100%; there is alignment in the darkness. The temperature of the water is constant. The humidity levels off as eyes close.
Z fades into transcendental breathing.
The pod door shuts with a clang; the noise reverberates around the chamber. Z, already afloat, hands along sides. Both palms open, the backs of the hands are resting on top of the chemically infused water. The earplugs are NRR rated at 12dB.
Z is ready. Now. Always present in the Now. It never mattered when the Now came before, or after, the Now Z is part of. Or was, as Z slipped into the next Now. The next. Again.
Z lives each zeptosecond of existence. The why of here, there, now, folds into each other.
Z is approaching Transition. Z’s word for it. Not ours.
It will suffice.
The door to the FP remains closed.
Z was/is/will be.
“Time is liquid. One moment is no more important than any other and all moments quickly run away.”
B continues on April 2nd, 2021
Comments are always appreciated
Starting tomorrow, April 1st, 2021, the A to Z Blogging Challenge begins anew. Arlee Bird
created this challenge in 2009. Twelve (now) years of a wide assortment of bloggers do their
best to publish 26 posts during the month of April. We start with the letter A (i.e. Apple
Cobbler) and end with the letter Z. No posts on Sundays. There is still time to sign up. Just click
on the link above for all the information you will need.
One thing: you do need a Blog. Plenty of sites that offer free services for their basic models.
Creative Writing. Non-Fiction. Poetry. Erotica. Creative Non-Fiction. Memoirs. Mythology.
Children’s Tales. Recipes. Photographs. Sayings/Quotes. DIY & How To. Reviews.
Recommendations. Paintings/Fine Arts. Sketches. etc.
The list goes on.
If you Blog, this is a great way to discover new blogs & bloggers. You will make connections.
Best of all, you will prove to yourself that you can master the challenge and post nearly every
As to Tale Spinning, my theme this year is
What is “Liquid Time?”
“Liquid Modernity is sociologist Zygmunt Bauman’s term for the present condition of the world as contrasted with the “solid” modernity that preceded it. According to Bauman, the passage from “solid” to “liquid” modernity created a new and unprecedented setting for individual life pursuits, confronting individuals with a series of challenges never before encountered. Social forms and institutions no longer have enough time to solidify and cannot serve as frames of reference for human actions and long-term life plans, so individuals have to find other ways to organize their lives.”
So: Liquid Modernity + Time + Existentialism + Escapism + Humanity + Transcendentalism = LIQUID TIME
Or something along those lines.
Let’s discover Liquid Time together.
Click on the link if you missed my THEME REVEAL
Click on the link if you missed LIQUID TIME: A PORTEND
Good Luck Everyone!!
Comments &/or Feedback is always appreciated.
The number 300,
Where did it come from, you ask?
Come sit, dear child.
I will do my best
To describe 300
It’ll put your mind at rest.
Once upon a time, One became known
To all across the world
Yet no One knew then
That One had a twin; of sorts
One was delighted
Thinking that “!” was by One’s side
Yet a rude awakening quickly followed,
That Exclamation Point always trailed behind.
One drifted along,
A fraction of fear, for
One wanted an addition
Of this, it was clear,
Alone One felt relatively null.
A need to multiply, One felt,
Was its right summation
Was One the final destination?
One terrible shaking shook the world
So unexpected and irrational
When the shuddering settled
One felt naturally at ease
Not knowing the quiet
Was but a tease.
Yet One was but a start,
Another One came calling,
Abstract and complex
People were swept off their feet
Heads all awhirl,
Some stomachs, too, truth to tell.
Trees fell, waves rose up in the air
Then all was quiet on the front
Staying right and stable.
‘One happened, then once again?’
One following another One did not compute.
A wise woman named Venn asked
“We should all come together,
A gathering circle.”
They joined as a group
They overlapped in a fury
Theories were thrown about,
Until One shouted, “Eureka!”
Twa claimed its name.
Ideas and events added more to the mix
Tres followed Twa
Then came the rest.
One hundred came,
Followed by Twa hundred in a row.
Last year it was 299,
Then we added One,
And 300 was born.
So, dear child,
300 is here! This equation is solved.”
“But Grandpa,” she said,
Rubbing her eyes,
“Why will next year
Be 300 and One?”