Part End

As I was trying to continue "working" on the short story I'm writing I finished up the draft of my list of songs from the previous story. Life as we know it, is a musical. So heres my list of songs that I was either listening to or thinking while writing. The story part by part is re-linked:

Part 1

1. Mew - Repeaterbeater

2. Queens of the Stone Age - Auto Pilot

3. The Beatles - Got To Get You Into My Life

Part 2

1. Almond Hammond Jr. - Borrowed Time

2. The Beatles - A Hard Day's Night

3. Radiohead - We Suck Young Blood

Part 3

1. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Runaway

2. The Beta Band - Needles in My Eyes

3. Vampire Weekend - The Kids Don't Stand A Chance

Part 4

1. Rachael Yamagata - Worn Me Down

2. Florence and the Machines - Dog Days Are Over

3. Jimi hendrix - Spanish Castle Magic

Part 5

1. The Cribs - Shoot the Poets

2. Plastiscines - Camera

3. Jimi hendrix - Purple Haze

Part 6

1. Carla Bruni - I Went To Heaven

2. The Smiths - Last Night I Deamt That Somebody Loved Me

3. Mumford And Sons - Awake My Soul

Enjoy life while listening to music. If you guys want to hear the songs, again, youtube. Or hop on my ride when I'm hearing 'em. Ha ha ha. If theres any other suggestion of songs feel free to drop a comment.

Part 6: Caught in between

I tried to focus on what majestic beauty I just saw but my neurons heading towards my brain had a doughnut break because of the traffic. I scrubbed my eyes for awhile to try and stabilize any sense of gravity inside my head. When I finally managed to meet the horizontal line with the vertical I realized she was gone.

I was confused. Distraught. I searched around to see if I could find her. Or so I thought. I was actually just spinning my body at a 360 degree angle, the angle in which a multisource assessment is achieved. Hence my logic to have spun. Maybe it wasn't my day, I thought to myself or perhaps it was because of all those feel good complications I had before. Whatever it was I tried to let it go.

Snap! Flash! I was caught by Elm a few meters away from my dazed self. Elm a 6 foot 5 tall cat-loving man from a Swedish background was surprised that I didn't try to run. With striking blond hair, it should have even been caught by people who died in the titanic hundreds of feet under the sea. But not me. Not that day. I was still fixed on the girl I barely remember. Who barely smiled. Who barely said a word.

After everybody was caught, we headed to get something to eat. After running like a bunch of little children after eating all those Halloween candy, we perhaps lost as much as half our body weight in less than a day's time. Then again, perhaps that was the mushroom side effect talking. As we were eating our not so fresh manufactured pizza we bought at your not so local pizza place, I still couldn't get her out of my mind.

With ash brown hair flowing smoothly up to her shoulders and perfectly proportioned eyes and lips, her gentle smile made the world stop for awhile. I think. It was perhaps a faulty memory plagued by a sense of fantasy. I couldn't actually remember her exact features as I was dazed. Or if she wasn't actually a he. But for that brief second, the world, my world, stopped to enjoy beauty.

Part 5: Flash

One night of pure misadventures excitement led to a magnifying painful hangover the next day. Some of us were half nude from the night before. But that didn't bother us much because it was all in good fun. This type of hangover is not the ones you get after a bloody Thursday night at a bar watching a basketball game. This was more subtle somehow. Maybe its because we were by then half junkies.

On with the road trip. Next stop a metropolitan city with a park nearby. As each of us got out from the van, we were all ready with our digital cameras. The five of us had to split up around the park and tag each other with a picture. Running around with a camera trying to catch each others faces wasn't your typical hometown game but a futuristic-esque approach to a game we all knew too well.

The basic objective of the game was to capture everyone faces in the camera. So off we went. All to a particular part of the park trying to hide as well as have a good vantage view of the others. These were post "relaxed" people and running was not our main forte at the moment. Some stumbled into bushes, others zig-zagged their way behind trees. The game started by mutual consent of counting to 90, 50 or whatever other numerical that Liebniz fellow made up for the world.

With my slow digital camera in hand I tried to go for the spectacular. I rushed towards my first few targets, Greg and Basel. Yeah I know, Basel! Who wouldn't want to get his picture. Running at full speed, which was equivalent to a elementary schoolgirl walk, I headed for the two. Flipping and rolling along the way as to avoid getting my picture taken myself. Finally after a couple of minutes or so, I reached a close enough point to capture Basel. I ran towards him but in the midst of the adrenaline rush, I tripped on a radicle root of a tree and subsequently stumbled rolling to the ground. To be counter productive to the mishap I started clicking endlessly on my digital camera.

I had bumped my head on the ground. A bit woozy. Dazed. I tried to regain focus on my vision. I looked up and there was perhaps the most stunningly beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. I tried to get my head together to mutter a witty remark on the untimely stupid situation she just witnessed but the best I could do was "ergh-archs-fioziasti". She smiled. I think. I still haven't got my mind in tack as of yet.

Part 4 : Time Travel

It was another droning day at the office but it was different somehow. I just couldn't put my finger on it. Perhaps it was because today was a Friday and the weekend was about to start. Ah, the weekend. Two and a half days of deflecting work. Two and a half days of pure satisfaction whatever it is your doing. Or perhaps it was because we finally made plans for the weekend. All of us. The housemates that is. Its such a rarity that we plan to spend time together as we rarely see one another at home.

The work day didn't feel at all an awe inspiring uplifting experience. Running around to far too many places. Having to deliver things before the holidays is such a pain in the ass. Everyone is already in their festive mood and would like to send all their works at the same time just to annoy people like me. Luckily I had enough Advils to numb any emotions towards the workload.

The clock ticking ever so closely to 5 o'clock. Everybody is packing up their stuff to finally make use of them. I on the other hand have already packed. Not much to pack anyway. Light is the way to go in this town, especially when my preferred transportation is my old bike. As I got home, the guys were already there waiting with their bags on the floor ready to go. We weren't going far away though. Most of the stuff inside their bags were food. For you see, this trip needed lots of food.

Hoped on Steve's, my housemate, 63' Corvair. Okay so it wasn't your adventurous vintage 85' GMC Vendura the A team used or the magic mystery bus that were the center of Scooby Doo and the gang but it still had the charm and character to it. The five of us inside a van that had only 3 seats at the back because of one ingenious night we all had after some frolicking around. Guys with huge testosterone high after watching a basketball game. Luckily for us there was just the five of us this time. Usually in this kind of circumstance we would have had at least five more friends that came along and most of us had to sit down on the floor of the van. Off we went. It was getting dark so Steve turned on the headlights which we all know was slightly just more powerful than a double A battery operated flashlight. Just. It wasn't such a long ride but it seemed that way because of the speed the van was going. It was to be another one of Steve's pet project. To fix his van. One of millions.

We finally arrived to nowhere. Nothing insight for miles except the big flat terrain and a few hard hills. Sand filled the sky as the air drizzles. It was for some the desert. Than one of my housemates, George, took out his stash. It wasn't much but it was enough for the five of us. This dark plant that has an umbrella for a head has magical powers they say. Everyone took one but later added a few more. Henry wasn't one who could digest it that well so he put it in a sandwich to nullify the pungent taste. These magical plants took us to places we've never been before. People cope differently when consuming such mystical plants. Henry was the quiet one after such a trip while Greg would be the overtly paranoid one. It didn't mean much anyway since we all had one thing in mind. Food. Hunger strikes best when your high. With backpacks full of any junk food we get a hold on, it was to be one hell of a night.

So we were there in the middle of nowhere while being everywhere at the same time.

Part 3: Lesson Learned

This home, though it has been only 5 years since we rented it, has changed a lot over that period of time. Once full of color now has become what the surrounding world was, colorless. There were 4 of us living in this apartment, one of which was me. I knew Greg the longest since we were in the same orphanage together.

I knew at an early age that I wasn't perceive as normal to the outside world. I had no parents. I didn't know my biological parents. Fuck it, I didn't want to. My fellow orphans became my family but later on I didn't care much as many of them were sent to foster families. I watch as kid after kid waved goodbye. I too was sent many times to live with foster families but none of which ever worked out.

Even though I masterminded a lot of devilish acts as a kid, especially to get out of the foster parent's home, I was always the one who got bullied. I was little in physique and grew slower than the other boys at the orphanage. I was tormented by this one deaf boy almost everyday. Each day I force myself to learn sign language so that one day, at least for one day, I could beat him up. I knew if I learned sign language it won't be much of a case in sympathy and that then, we were even. Him with his hearing impairment and me with my scrawny physique.

That day came and I went to confront him. Needless to say, he didn't at all looked happy. His size twice as big as mine and with hands as big as king kong's he ran to me with anger. If this was a movie, he'd be running in slow motion. Unfortunately this was more a slapstick comedy than a full on action drama. I was a bit surprise that for one he could move that fast, and secondly why he's even beating me up in the first place. Okay, I might have lied, maybe it was because of my endless cussing. Okay, I might have lied about that too, it was more of a one finger hand gesture than a poetic line of cussing.

I was out of breath by the time he was finish beating me up, and by the looks of things so did he. So what it was only because of the energy needed to do the beating up, I still managed to make him sweat in my books. A mental win I thought. I did however learned that I could still think to myself while getting beaten up. It was another mental win. Even though I was thinking of why I learned sign language instead of self defense, I still prefer it to be rationalized as a mental win. Eat that deaf boy as I said to him in my mind.

I grew up knowing one thing from that encounter, don't fight those who are bigger physically than you. The other thing that I got from all of the beatings was a best friend in Greg. He was beside me throughout all the beating. Even though he was getting beaten himself, I did feel we would stick together for a long time. A combat brother. The kinds where you hear from veteran soldiers who was at 'nam and Korea but on a smaller scale.

Part 2: Time slows down

It took what seemed forever to have made my decision but finally I said no and he said "your lost." If I were to get some more I'd be lying about where I had been to my boss the next day. I put on my Ipod and helmet and went my way. The city buzzing in excitement all the way to the bank I worked for. No, I wasn't your executive calling all the shots at this so called big bank nor was I even the bank teller. I had more liberté working at the back. The glue to every organization I would always imagine. The office boy.

Everything seemed grey. Life was more symmetric than I would have hoped for. Almost every people I meet inside the bank are DOA. This seemed weird considering the huge amounts of money they make each year. Every cliche you could have ever imagined was evident right smack in the middle of this high paced monetary center. Every phone never stops ringing, every keyboard never stopped clicking, and yet the people who are in the middle of everything looked like zombies. No, not your Hollywood big block buster movie zombies, they were more B movie zombies who were too slow for even considering eating peoples brains for livelihood. I didn't want to be stuck doing that for the rest of my life. Hence my past working experience of 5 different jobs all of which that slowly shred any soul left in me. I have worked for the head honchos of the business lines but gained nothing other than an imaginary cancer. I was still waiting for my appointment at an imaginary hospital about that.

My day consisted of mainly sitting around doing other people's chores. "Send this to this department," they would say or "pick up this and that". It wasn't your normal 8 to 5 job but it does get me a little wee self time on my own. I could be lazying around the office drinking coffee or having a snack outside the building. Plus I get to go home earlier than the others especially when there is anything left to do which for the most part a usual occasion. When I do go back late, my ride back home is like the game Frogger. A balancing act if one could have imagined. The impatient honking cars, the speeding motorcycles weaving around the conjunctions and fast walking zombie like creature heading to the nearest tube. I head back home to do it all over again the next day.

Part 1: The clock starts here

Puff. One hit. I was in. It wasn't my first nor was it my last. I was hooked. Finally it seemed clearer. The world showed it's beautiful colors. As orange as an orange could be. Bright lights of neon surrounding this dark city. This was early in the morning. The mist was still here waiting for the sunrise to squall them away.

I stood silence looking up to which I thought was the sky but in reality it was the white ceiling. The color of blue hidden in between the whiteness of the wall. My stomach growling, begging for someone to fill it with anything. It was at a time where you don't care what the hell is there to eat as long as it fulfills its natural needs. I took a box of cereal out from the food cupboard. Got out my bowl and filled it up till the cereal overflowed. Milk was then poured. It looked like if the Niagara falls upside down. It wasn't that pretty of a sight when I gorged upon these colorful rings of sweet wheat covered in the natural white color of the milk. It was like a marathon I had to finish. A dash to the finish line trying to beat the time. This was it. I was going for the world record of over excessive gorging. A gorge-a-thon. My friends became time as it slowed down for me. It stopped for me. Me.

After I gobbled up every few bits I sat down on the floor. There was this young guy sitting the opposite of me smoking some light cigeratte. It was George Harrison. With his liverpudlian accent he asked me if I wanted some. I shook my head. It was somehow a different George. His accent didn't sound scousers at all. I didn't care at the time. Why would I? I was sitting chatting with one of the fab four. We later chatted about their works and how he was never liked by the others. Their public image taking a toll on their apperception and psyche. He then said he had to go to work and left me there just sitting, waiting for something but couldn't get my mind around it.

I looked at the clock, it seemed crooked. What looked to be 3 o'clock was actually 6. "My hand was bigger" I thought to myself. It took awhile for me to see myself but when it did, it hit me that I had to go to work. Stumbling down towards the showers hitting everything in sight. Luckily we were a bunch of guys who didn't use a lot of money to buy furnitures. I showered and got changed. Got my bicycle out, protected myself with all of the pads and helmet. On the way to the door, my house mate stopped me and said, "one for the ride".


With my bicycle in hand, I looked to the door, turn to see the rumpled piece of paper stuffed with magical plantation and stood in silence.