Tommy. Gates. Lives.

A dream. Christmas eve/morning. My family was staying at my aunt and uncle's house for the holidays.

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I was standing at a check-out register (at the library? grocery store?) At another register across from me, there was another kid. His looks reminded me of a kid I knew back in second grade, Stephen Sweten. The kid had pale, olive-greenish skin, like he was really sick. Someone whose face I couldn't see (the register-operator?) was talking to him, or, at least talking in his direction. His face occasionally changed, from something like a pitiful puppy-dog face to beaming, to puzzled, each change happening in an instant. He reminds me of the kid I knew, Stephen from second grade, in that he seems somewhat of a class clown, making insincere faces and gestures just to get attention. The kid in my dream had pale brown, slightly larger than normal eyes that bulged just a little. His hair was messy, like he'd just gotten out of bed.

What I saw on his right wrist was what really got my attention. It looked like a small cut at first, that seemed to open a bit when he moved his hand and forearm. But when he raised his hand to scratch his head, what looked like a cut on his wrist opened into a mouth, a mouth with crooked brownish teeth and a dry looking tongue. When the mouth opened and began to talk, that's when I woke up.

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It gets even stranger. I woke up from the dream laying awkwardly on my deflating air mattress. The house was filled with darkness. It must have been about 3:30 AM and everything was completely silent. I found myself repeating the name Tommy Gates in my head over and over again. After a few moments I thought, why do I keep repeating this name? Who in the world is Tommy Gates? I don't know anyone, and don't think I ever knew anyone by that name, but it repeated strongly in my head as if it were definitely the name of someone. When I realized that (perhaps) Tommy Gates was the name of the kid in my dream, I got the chills.

A slight pinch below the equator told me I had to go to the restroom. I DID NOT want to get up and walk through the dark to the bathroom, not with some creepy name repeating in my head and after having that dream. My stupid imagination began to wonder if there had been someone who had lived (and died) in the house named Tommy Gates. Maybe the ghost of Tommy Gates (whoever he is/was) was trying to get my attention. Maybe....well, I don't know, but it was enough to freak me out.

Ugh. I'm getting the chills just thinking about it. I'm glad to be home again, that's for sure, hoping that's the last time I have a dream like that.

What do you think? Anyone out there ever had a brush with the supernatural or at least had a coincidence disturbing enough to make you wonder...?

A dream, Decemeber 15th

I took a long nap this afternoon and had a very vivid dream toward the end.

I'm not sure how to describe it, but in the beginning of the dream, I felt like my mind was blank, like a painter's canvas. Little by little, color started to emerge on the canvas, sort of like it was bleeding through from the back. Indistinct images started to take form, odd shapes and various colors. As I watched wondering what in the world was going on, every once in a while I'd see flashes, like a colorful glint of sunlight off a piece of metal, there and gone in an instant. Instead of trying to see what sorts of shapes were taking form in the emerging colors, I focused on the flashes of colorful light, trying to see what was causing them. At first, I saw only the flashes. Then, here and there, I saw what looked like torches splashing around what looked like liquid fire causing the flashes.

Then, I saw the angels, that is, the creatures I choose to call angels. Each one had two pair of flaming wings. Where there bodies should have been I only saw a blur of blueish light. They moved so quickly that I couldn't fix my eyes on one; I could only look in a general area and see one of the angels occasionally appear then vanish in an instant, splashing the liquid fire in a colorful streak of light. It was sort of like looking up into a general area of the night sky waiting for the streak of light from a meteor.

Finally, one of the angels stopped, long enough for me to take a good long look at him (it?). All I saw was a pair of black eyes staring at me, disapprovingly, almost the kind of look you get when you're seeing something you're not supposed to. I immediately stopped trying to see the angels and realized they had painted my room around me with the sunlight pouring through the window onto my bed. That's when I woke up.

Uhhh....

This post is in response to Bleah's http://blonde4christ.blogspot.com/2009/12/mp3-shuffle-tag.html. If you don't read her post first, this may not make any sense whatsoever (well, it may not make sense after you read her post, either). Anyway, the instructions were to press shuffle on the music play, then answer the question with whatever song played. Here goes nothin'...

Are you male or female? It only gets worse, Polar Bear

What do people feel when they are around you? Dhun, Ravi Shankar

Describe your current relationship? Caught in the Game, Survivor

Where would you like to be right now? Meditational Raga of north India, flute and sitar music

How do you feel about love? Freedom Fighter, Creed

Whats your life like? Where all Roads Lead, Polar Bear

What would you wish for if you only had one wish? Crysalline, Enya

Say something wise? In my sleep, Joe Budden

If someone says "Is this okay. . ." You say? The End, The Doors

How would you describe yourself? Livin' on a Prayer, Bon Jovi

How do you feel today? The Moment of Truth, Survivor

What is your life's purpose? Gamelan 3, music of Thailand

What is your motto? Two Pages, Philip Glass

What do your friends think of you? Burning Heart, Survior

What do you think of your parents? Ease Up, Aztro

What do you think of very often? Zero Sum, Nine Inch Nails

What is 2+2? Things Change, Aztro

What do you think of your best friend? Temptation Waits, Garbage

What is you life story? Hold Up, Diddy

What do you want to be when you grow up? Digital Sunrise, Polar Bear

What will you dance to at your wedding? Little Child Runnin', Curtis Mayfield

What will they play at your funeral? Bad, Michael Jackson

What is your hobby/interest? Music in Changing Parts, Philip Glass

What is your biggest fear? Danger Zone, (Top Gun soundtrack)

What is your biggest secret? Prophecy, Polar Bear

What do you think of your friends? Bullets With Butterfly Wings, Smashing Pumpkins

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Hey, I tried...

I tried wrapping another gift today. It was a DVD. Still horrible.

On a completely unrelated note, the countdown to ALPHA has begun. If you are not familiar with me or my story, venture here at your own risk

http://www.iamaprisoner.com/

I've said it before and I'll say it again...they are listening to our thoughts...

Worst Gift Wrapper Ever

I DARE someone to challenge me for this title. I tried to wrap a shoebox today (inside was an apron for my mom) and it seriously looked like a nicely wrapped gift that some five-year-old kid with claws eagerly tried to open. I don't know what my problem is. It could be that I don't know how much wrapping paper to start with. Sometimes I start with too much, then feel bad about cutting off the extra parts and wasting paper so I keep folding it until it fits snuggly (and ugly...sorry, intentional misuse of word) around the gift. Other times I don't use enough paper, and my solutions to that just make a bad situation horrible. And if you want a good laugh, just watch me try to cut a straight line or tie a ribbon...no joke, side-splitting entertainment. The gift at left, by the way, is NOT my handiwork.

Any tips from the pros?

Changing the subject completely, I have a theory that wireless networks are slower in cold weather. I have no proof, of course. It's just a hunch. But, whenever it gets colder and I'm on a public network, things get a bit more sluggish. I'm not ready to admit that my poor six-year-old laptop computer is just getting a little stubborn in its old age. I'm pretty sure Santa's not bringing me a new one for Christmas.

Okay, a car just started outside with a high-pitched squealing noise and scared me a bit...

20 November, 2009

Today, I was sitting at my computer doing some composing and all of a sudden I realized this steady tone in my right inner ear. I thought it was a large truck or something backing up somewhere down the street, but when I pressed my hand against my ear it was still there.

I've had this happen from time to time, where you hear a tone or a steady soft ringing in the inner ear. Today was very unusual, though, because it's been going on all day. For a while it must have been there for at least 4 hours. It seems to go away whenever I hear another louder sound, but then it just comes right back again when the sound goes away. I usually enjoy quiet places, but today I was really glad to be anywhere where there were louder sounds that could drown out my inner ear tone.

I don't think I'm losing my hearing or anything. It's just really weird and kind of worries me. I rarely ever listen to really loud music and I don't think when I listen to my i-pod that the volume's too loud (although, now I'm definitely going to make it a point to keep it low). Even more odd, when I bend over as if to tie my shoes, the sound goes away. Also, I narrowed the pitch of the tone to an E earlier in the day, but by midday it had risen to an F.

The whole freaky situation has had me doing a bunch of random research on sound waves and the structure and function of the ear (what an awesome organ!).

I wonder if this is how Beethoven's problems started...

On a more positive note, my studio program seems to be very cooperative these days. After what seemed like forever, I finally posted something new on Apollyon...............................end.

Polar Bear, Alpha trailer 2

Last night I had a dream about the coyote. Well, the dream wasn't actually about him, but he was sort of featured in it. There was a lot of other pointless things that happened in the dream, so I won't bore you with the details. At some point I was sitting on the floor next to my bed and heard a tapping on my window. When I turned to see what it was, there was the coyote pawing at the glass. When I blinked, he was suddenly on my side of the glass, inside the room with me. Of course I was petrified, but he just calmly walked past me and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. And that was it.

This is my first time trying to embed a video from Youtube. I just know I'm going to make a fantastic mess out of it, but here goes anyway. No, it has nothing to do with coyotes (it seems like that should be spelled coyotees).

Program, Apollyon, Alpha, coyote................end.

I actually got the studio program to do what I wanted a few days ago. I just found it so discouraging when it seemed to withhold my work from me that I didn't feel like producing much music or literature. But, after reading a few blogs I've been following, inspired by my fellow bloggers and amateur musicians, I feel like I'm ready to get the ball rolling again.

Unfortunately, the piece that I was arranging for the Apollyon blog didn't quite sound the same when I returned to it. That's the funny thing about composing: if you put a composition aside for a while and forget about it, sometimes it seems kind of dumb to you when you go back and listen to it with fresh ears. Maybe I was never meant to post the piece. Maybe it was an embarrassment in the making. Maybe it would have killed my (already struggling) reputation. Maybe the program that was refusing to export the file to mp3 knew better than me and was trying to save me...

Something in particular has come up that I'm extraordinarily excited about. I would share, but if it falls apart then I would have built up a lot (mainly my own) of expectation for nothing. We'll see how it goes. I will say it does involve a little thing called the Polar Bear Project; I guess you never really know when someone is paying attention to what you are doing and saying, so you always have to keep at whatever it is you do, regardless of what others around you are doing...

If you're wondering about the coyote and the weird guy I spotted in the woods behind our house, well, welcome to the club. I haven't heard squat about the man and haven't seen hide nor hair of the coyote.

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Thanks to my readers and faithful commentators. It's nice to know that we're not "writing into a void" as one of my fellow bloggers once put.

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end.

Grrrrr.......

So my initial plan was to try to post at least once a week on my music blog, Apollyon. Things have been going more or less as planned, that is, until today.

Just a little background on how I make the music on Apollyon. Basically, I have some computer software that is like a virtual music studio. It has a ton of virtual instruments (including a piano, of course), and basically I just press a record button on screen and play on a keyboard that's hooked up to the computer. Add a little synthesizer here, a drum loop there, and voila. Instant digital arrangements.

Today, the program just decided that it was not going to cooperate. Wait. Let me take that back. It decided to be an total...well, I stop there and keep the PG rating on my blog. I had a brand new piece I've been working on for a few days and got it down to exactly how I wanted it. All that was left to do was export the project to an mp3 file. Satisfied, I clicked the export button and...

the program froze.

I do the good old ctrl+alt+del to get to the task manager, close out all programs from there, reopen the file with my new arrangement, click export again and...

freeze.

repeat process. freeze.

freeze. freeze. freeze. FREEZE!!!!

Every time I tried to export the file to mp3 the program froze. I tried every trick I knew to get it to work but to no avail. It took about an hour before I finally gave up. It's like the program just decided that I had done enough, that it longer wanted me to share my work, that I should stop trying to be a musician and go find an occupation that doesn't require the use of a computer...

Even as I write this on my laptop, just behind me on the screen of my PC on which I do all of my composing, is the mocking error message...

"This program is no longer responding and needs to close"

Technology. Grrrrr....

Is it the Polar Bear Project? The dreams have more or less stopped. It's been a long time since I've seen Gabriel. Maybe they've found another way to get at me.

29 October, 2009

Vampires? I think I've had my fill. Walk into a bookstore and there is a whole section of fiction devoted to them. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a vampire book. I'm just saying this so it doesn't seem like I'm hopping on the Transylvanian train (do books even talk about vampires being from Transylvania anymore?), even though what I'm about to share could easily be interpreted that way. Anyways, the following are actual events that are so befitting the holiday season that I couldn't pass on sharing it.

Again, ACTUAL EVENTS, believe it or not. Here goes.

So, a few weeks ago, right around the beginning of the month, I was out riding my bike on some paved trails in the woods behind our house. It was around four o'clock in the afternoon, one of the few sunny days between all the rainy ones we've been getting down south lately. As a matter of fact, I remember looking up through the canopy of the trees and not seeing a single cloud in the solid blue sky. A cool breeze blew over my face every once in a while as I splashed through some puddles leftover from the previous day's showers.

Strange thing number one that happened. Out of the that perfectly, solid blue sky, it started to rain. For a moment I stopped and looked up through the branches of the trees and scanned the sky above. Not a single, solitary rain cloud, but it was definitely raining. The breeze had stopped, and I exhausted pretty much every juvenile theory I could come up with about the rain being blown from somewhere else. It wasn't a heavy rain, but enough that I was glad that I had partial shelter from the trees. I was about half a mile from my house so I decided, despite the cloudless rain, to go ahead and finish the two mile loop that would eventually return to my backyard.

It only rain for about five minutes. It wasn't like an invisible baby rain cloud was moving across the sky. It seemed more like it had only rained in that little spot of the woods for just that moment, leaving me a bit perplexed.

When I put my feet back on the pedals of my bike, lowering my eyes from the sky to the path in front of me, and started off again, I saw strange thing number two: an old, grey bearded Hispanic man walking toward me wearing an old, faded blue jean jacket that looked like it was from the sixties, a pair of worn khaki slacks, and old black, scuffed dress shoes. It was like he appeared out of nowhere. There was no one in front of me when I looked up for just a moment to search the sky for clouds, and all of a sudden, there he was, not but a few feet away from me. He looked like he may have been homeless, maybe even a bit deranged, walking with a slight limp and a spaced out look in his eyes. I don't know why, but I didn't want to offend him by suddenly turning around and zipping off in the opposite direction. Before I knew it, we were passing each other. Even though I glanced over at him, he never once seemed to acknowledge me, looking straight down at the ground with those spaced out eyes.

I let myself get a short ways up the path before I looked back, and that's when I saw strange thing number three. The guy was gone. Completely vanished. No joke. No fiction. No story telling. Just gone. But that wasn't the strangest part. Near where I thought he should have been, I saw a single coyote, trotting off the path into the woods. I actually stopped completely, set my bike on the path, and took a few steps back to get a good look at the coyote and try to see where the man had gone to. But he was gone. And the last I saw of the coyote was his tail disappearing into some shrubs.

At that moment, those chills hit me again. If you read my last post, you know what I'm talking about. Those weird chills you get when something extraordinary seems to have happened, even when you have no explanation for it. Anyways, I just stood there, looking around the woods and down the path as a warm, post-rain mist rose up from the it.

Now, I'm not saying the guy turned into a coyote. I'm not saying that. But what would you think? One moment here's this creepy guy and the next he's gone and there's a coyote you hadn't seen before.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm not crazy. At least, I don't think I am.

So, since that little encounter, I've notice a few signs having been posted around our neighborhood over the last month about coyote sightings and even some incidents of animal mutilations, people's cats escaping the house and being found somewhere...well, uh, you know, like something had savagely attacked them. There have been no coyote sightings in the woods for years until now.

I don't think coyotes are savage animals who tend to attack anything larger than they are. I've never heard of any coyotes anywhere near where I live attacking people. So I suppose it's not too much to be concerned about.

I've been on those trails several times since I saw the man. I Haven't seen him since and no one else has mentioned anything about having seen him. But the coyote is out there, somewhere.

My more faithful readers and friends are probably surprised that I found no way to tie this in with the Polar Bear Project. Just give it time, and I'm sure the Beast will turn up somehow in all this...

Weird

So I haven't really gotten sick in the past couple of weeks. Maybe a little hint of a sore throat here, a slight runny nose there, a touch of nausea way over there, but little more. Good for me, right?

However, for over a week or so I've been getting these chills. They're not the kinds of chills you get when you're plummeting into illness, the kind where it seems like, no matter what you do, you can't get your body temperature up to where it should be. They're those full body chills, the kind that seem to radiate in a sudden instant from the center of your chest and out into your arms and legs, gone before you even realize what's happened. They come and go at random, with no apparent provocation.

They're almost like the sort of chills you get when something really amazing happens to you, or when you hear a really awesome piece of music and it just sort of gets to you, and you have that feeling of being completely overwhelmed, spiritually, like something completely transcendent has happened. Kind of like those sorts of chills but, like I said, for no apparent reason whatsoever.

I've been kind of hoping I'd get just sick enough to miss school, but not so sick that they're digging my grave. But this feels like something else. Like maybe something big is about to happen, and some non-physical part of me is transferring awareness of it to me through the chills.

I don't know.

Weird.

Mein Kampf

First, first FIRST...this is Not a Nazi Propaganda post. Got it!? For some random reason I decided to try teaching myself German (I even got some German language audio books from the library), and decided to try and look smart by translating the title of the post (My Struggle) into German. Well, lo and behold, Mein Kampf happens to be the title to a famous book by an infamous individual, and if I say any more then it might actually (accidentally) turn into propaganda...!

ANYWAYS, this is mein kampf, that is, my struggle: technology. I know I'm going to appear completely self-contradictory here, seeing how much technology it takes for me to get this message across the globe in the blink of an eye, but that's just the way it is - but therein lies the struggle. On one hand, I'd love to go completely stone-age, just toss all of our computers, cell phones, blackberries, televisions, radios, insert technological device here, into the mouth of a volcano,(I know, my blog is getting less and less popular with every word I write) and be rid of all them. On the other hand, I'm typing away on my laptop, the music playing from the radio in the background, about to hop into an automobile with the family and head out to eat.

I just hate to see people becoming so detached from one another. I just hate to see people using technology as a way to get out of interacting with people who are right there in front of them. Sure, you can talk to anyone on the planet any time from almost anywhere, we have all sorts of wonderful forms of entertainment in digital devices, we can do and experience things in virtual worlds that people of past times never could have imagined.

And so what? Does it mean we're happier, more content, more fulfilled than people in past, less technologically developed societies? We get on an elevator and try our best not to make eye contact with the other people on there we don't know. We don't make an attempt to get to know the quiet kid next or down the street, but we spend hours online looking for 'virtual' friends (I'm going to lose so much support after this). We sacrifice good, personal relationships with people physically near us, keep them at a distance (I know, some people you SHOULD keep at a distance), so we can send text messages to people nowhere in sight about how bored we are.

This is my struggle. I really can't stand technology, but I know it's essential to our modern lives...

The End is the Beginning

Last night I went to Mr. Milton's (my piano teacher) piano recital. It was held in the sanctuary of a contemporary Catholic church with stone floors, beautiful architecture and great acoustics. About 40 people showed up.

He started with a couple of Preludes by Chopin, after which he played the entire 'Moonlight' Sonata by Beethoven (Beethoven was a musical beast). The second part of the program, he played two short pieces from Schumann's Carneval, and then the incredible Snow Drift Transcendental Etude by Franz Liszt. The third part of the recital he actually had a couple of his students play as guest performers and, no, I was not one of them. The final piece was his own crazy musical interpretation of the first chapter of Ezekiel in the bible, full of imagery from visions of angels and other heavenly beings. Definitely an apocalyptic piece meant to bring down the roof.

I saw Bobby there but, of course, I didn't talk to him. I didn't notice him until one of the breaks when I saw him sitting in the back of the sanctuary, off in the shadows reading a book. I still don't know what his deal is. Bobby is, if you didn't know, is supposed to be my best friend. Something about the Polar Bear Project drove a wedge between us and now he just acts weird and distant all of time.

Following the performance, after everyone had left and my mom was talking endlessly to some lady outside the sanctuary doors, I found Mr. Milton in the sanctuary pulling the cover over the piano. The sanctuary was completely silent. All the music had gone. The people were gone. The lights were dim. It was actually kind of sad: just like that, it was all over.

Mr. Milton had once told me he worked for several hours a day for the past couple of weeks practicing and getting the music ready. All that work and commitment, and suddenly we were standing in the empty sanctuary, the event having passed. I asked him if he was disappointed that all the excitement, all the preparation was gone and that the special event was over. He said that "nothing was over and that we were standing in the beginning of something else." He said it reminded him of life, how we should live our lives in preparation for what happens after our lives are over.

The silent, dim sanctuary, that had once been filled with life and music was like the moment of death and transfiguration; it's not the place of ending, but a landmark from which we gaze into the future. His words didn't quite make sense last night, but the more I think about it the clearer it becomes: every end is but a beginning, and everything we do up to that point is preparation for whatever happens next.

Is it just me part...? II

This entry is the follow-up to Is it just me.

So nothing happened. I'm sorry to disappoint all of you. The whole police checking out the neighbor's thing was just a simple domestic misunderstanding. My mom started to tell me about it while I was at the piano this evening and the story got so boring I just tuned her out. So I guess that's the end of that.

So, admit it. You're disappointed that it wasn't a burglary, a drug bust, or maybe even a little domestic violence. I know you are because I know I am.

I think tomorrow I am going to a solo concert my piano teacher is giving. It may very well be the highlight of my week.

If you can't tell, I'm sort of in a 'blah' mood...

Just keep your shirt on...

So I was thinking today about the first human beings.

Whatever your beliefs are about the origin of man, hopefully we can agree on the point that the first man/ people were naked. Whenever the first 'men' walked on earth, they probably were not wearing so much as a fig leaf. Perhaps they strung some animal skins together in the winter, but for the most part the first people went without clothing. Yes, eventually environmental factors or spiritual (downfall) factors - depending on your own beliefs - would lead people to make clothes but, in the beginning, people just let it all hang out.

If we can agree on that, then perhaps we can agree on the fact that, being naked, at least in a technology free world, was and is probably the best way to go. Maybe, on microscopic and subatomic levels, the human body functions and interacts best with the environment when it's as bare as the day it was born. Maybe we were never meant to wear clothes. If we live in environments that are too cold for us NOT to wear some sort of covering, maybe we weren't meant to live in those environments. If we live in those colder environments that require us to wear clothing because of limited space in warmer climates, maybe there are too many people...wait, now I'm way off topic.

No, I'm not saying everyone should go around naked (even though I'm sure a lot of you are stripping down as you're reading this). I'm just wondering if we would be better off without clothes.

I actually started out with a completely different point in mind, so if this makes absolutely no sense, well...sorry.

How about a vote among us scrappy bloggers (and readers of scrappy blogs): clothes or no clothes?

Is it just me...?

I just realized something. Maybe it's just something about myself and maybe it's something that has to do with people in general.

Today, while I was standing on the curb waiting for the bus (yes, don't laugh, I still ride the bus to school - wanna fight about it?), I watched as two police cars pulled up to the house across the street from mine. As soon as I saw the two middle-aged police officers step out of their cars in that black uniforms and shiny badges, I thought, 'please don't let my bus show up on time', because I really wanted to see what was going down - I mean, going on.

Anyways, the two police officers casually strolled up the sidewalk to the front door of the house and one of them knocked. No answer at the door. Again, he knocked while the other police officer walked around the side of the house checking out the windows.

Now, I don't really know much about our across the street neighbors. I think a young married couple and their three little kids live there. I've never seen anything suspicious going on there and I hadn't heard of any burglaries, vandalism or anything else like that in the neighborhood that might have the police checking things out.

So I continued to watch, every once and while looking down the street to make sure my bus wasn't flying up, as one police officer continued to knock more and more forcefully on the door while the other continued to search around the house.

After a couple of minutes, the front door to the house next to the one the police were searching opened, and two little dogs came running out into the yard, yelping and wagging their tails as if they'd finally been liberated from some horrible doggy prison. I could barely make out the figure of someone standing in the shadow of the doorway, but I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. The police officer who was knocking, when he saw the dogs and that the other neighbor's door was open, casually walked through the grass across the yard and started talking to the figure in the shadows.

And that's when my bus pulled up, right between me and the intriguing little story that was unfolding before me. Disgusted, I climbed on the bus, found a seat to myself, and watched from the window as we pulled away.

So this is what I learned. I (we, as people?) love it when 'things' happen out of the ordinary. We love it when 'things' go wrong or weird 'things' happen. I'm intentionally using that broad word, 'things' because it could be anything. It could be a pair of policemen checking out the neighbor's house. It could be an apartment fire. It could be a terrorist attack. It could be an auto accident. It could be a natural disaster like a hurricane or an earthquake. It could be an exposed plot by the government to brainwash the public. It could be a possible UFO sighting. It could be someone slipping on a banana peel. It could be anything, just as long as it's not TOO close to home, and, even then, we still like for things to happen close to us from time to time.

When tragedy strikes, near or far, we think, "oh, that's awful", but deep inside we are drawn to tragic, odd, abnormal, shocking, (you name it) things that happen. Whenever out of the ordinary things happen, think of how proud you are if you are an on the scene witness!

Like I said, maybe it is just me, but something tells me it's not. I'll let you know when I find out what happened...

Silence

Today, for some yet to be determined reason, our entire neighborhood lost power for about an hour or so. I was at home alone for much of that time and heard something that I haven't heard in a long time: silence, pure electronic devices and electronic systems free silence. It really is unique. Even now as I sit here alone and write this, these are the sounds that I hear:

1. My fingers typing on the keys
2. The hum of the air conditioning/ heating system
3. The hum of the refrigerator
4. The tiny fan whirring in my computer
5. The high pitched waves from a t.v. on mute in the next room
6. Some other high pitched electronic waves whose source is unidentifiable

It's like my ears are being subtly bombarded by electronic background noise. I wonder what it was like before electricity. I wonder if people's aural relationship with the world was different. I wonder if being exposed to electronic noise, no matter how subtle, has any long term effects on our minds. Maybe subtle background frequencies from electronic devices slowly drive us insane.

Today, when the power went off, it was like the air had been purified. The only sound I could hear (and feel) as I lay stretched out on the living room couch was the sound of my own heartbeat. Everything else was beautiful, wonderful, almost tasty, silence.

I'll try to engage the few readers I have. Pause for a moment (don't worry, unless you have a bad Internet connection, my blog isn't going anywhere) Sit back and just listen. What can you hear at this very moment?

Milton Raphael

Today was my piano teacher's (http://www.iamaprisoner.com/#milton.html) birthday. I had an early release day from school and when I got home, there he was waiting for me at the piano(apparently my mom forgot to tell me that we'd rescheduled the lesson for the day). The lesson lasted for over an hour. I told him happy birthday and he barely responded with a slight grin and a nod. When I asked him what he was going to do on his special day, he said he was giving lessons all day, then going home to prepare for a performance he's giving at the end of the month. I don't know if he has any family (or friends) in town. I hope someone at least gets him a cake. The only person in the world who seems more lonely than I am is Milton Raphael.

He hasn't been quite the same since, well, the dream. He talks less; what used to be small talk between us has been reduced to tiny talk. He seems just a little less passionate about the music. When he plays pieces for me now he seems almost in a zombie like state. I often catch him staring into oblivion, his eyes seeming to stare straight through space and time into a void. I sometimes find myself wondering, what have they done to him?

He has all but prohibited me from talking about the dream. Every time I get even close to bringing it up, he completely changes the subject. I know he knows more about the Polar Bear Project than he's telling me. How do I know? I know this isn't a great argument, but it's a gut feeling. Call it intuition. All musicians at heart know, and most of them are either too utterly confused or too far in denial to want to talk about it.

He still has the scar on the side of his head, the scar that he got in the dream, my dream.

Violin

I love it when I find music related posts. You can read and hear about professional, world class musicians any time and they're stories about music are always so, I don't know, lofty(?) Not very easy to relate to for us little people. I'd rather read about how the common man (and woman) lives with music. Here are another blogger's thoughts on music, particularly the violin can be found here:

http://shadows-in-her-mind.blogspot.com/2009/09/violin.html

I started playing violin for a little while. I even went out and got some instructional books. I taught myself to read music for the instrument, learned some scales, a few simple songs, then hit a brick wall when it came to technique. I don't know why, but when I play the violin, it feels like I'm trying to balance a ultra light wheel barrow between my chin and shoulder while trying to shovel dirt into it. I mean, it's so uncomfortable!

I have so much admiration for violinists. I'd give me right hand to play some of those Paganini etudes (not really, that would be dumb seeing as how I couldn't actually play the instrument with one hand). I play a little guitar and find that it's so much easier after wrestling with a violin. It just makes me sick watching a good violinist; how do they make it look so easy?

Keep the Music Playing

I love discovering new music. I came across this blog and, after finding some of the music, felt obliged to honor the blogger by linking to it. Thanks for sharing!

Keep the Music Playing

Maybe this is just another one of those things that I missed while everyone else has been enjoying it behind my back.

Time Travel

Last night I dreamed I could travel through time. I guess it's easier than was previously thought. All I needed was a box. Not some special, computerized time travel box. Just a plain old large cardboard box big enough for me to curl up inside.

The first thing I had to do was lay in the box, on my side, pressed down so that no part of me stuck up over the rim of the box. After getting inside, in the curl up, fetal position, I had to close my eyes, and think about the time to which I wanted to go. The trick was in my breathing: while thinking about my destination, I had to also listen to and focus on my breathing, so that nothing existed but my deep breaths and my destination in time. I always knew the moment when I had accomplished a passage from one time to the next, could feel myself being pulled through a space-time portal. There was nothing really uncomfortable about it, just sort of a warm feeling in my brain and a slight pressure in my chest.

I also learned something about time travel, that is, something different from what we are usually told about it. When I traveled through time, there was always only one of me. For instance, in movies and books, the time traveler usually sees are encounters himself in the past or future (sometimes with devastating consequences). In my method of voyaging through time, my age would always change according to the time in my life to which I traveled. When I traveled into the future, I was older. When I traveled into the past, I was younger. I would be like I was simply reliving a period of time in my life.

The only catch was that, when I traveled to the future and then back to the past, my memory was always erased of everything I'd seen or learned - so I couldn't go back into the past and try to change the future. Only memories of the past remained with me when I traveled to the future, but even those were often sketchy.

I don't know. It might be worth a shot. All I need is a big cardboard box.

This little piggy got everyone sick...

Everyone around me seem to be getting sick lately. Some of them have been diagnosed with the so-called swine flu, H1N1, the Porky bug, or whatever it is. Kids are being taken out of school left and right. Some of those who are being taken out are perfectly fine but their parents don't want them to be exposed to the hoards of other sick kids. My parents would never take me out of school to keep me from catching some infectious illness. Sick kids could be dropping in the hallways and I'd been there stepping over them on my way to history class.

So far I've avoided infection. Maybe the grass smoothie did something to strengthen my immune system...

"Life is Creation"

This morning I came across a blog with this title. You can check out the blog for yourself here,

http://life-is-creation.blogspot.com/

The idea that Life is Creation is fraught with meaning. As a composer, I think about the fact that, every day and every moment of our lives is like a piece of a composition. The whole of our life is a magnum opus, a unique body of work and creation that never existed before and will never exist again. Every day we do and say things that build on who we are as individuals, just like a composer adding notes to the score of a piece of music. Some of our compositions are tragic. Some of them are rapturous. Some of them are quiet and reflective. Some of them are full of thrills and adventure. And most of them are combinations and variations of these different moods, tones, and colors.

Each day of our lives we have to live knowing that we are creating a body of work that we will leave as a legacy to others when we are gone.

In that creative living we also enjoy the excitement of not knowing exactly what's going to happen next in the creation. We can plan things as carefully as possibly, but we can't really know what the final product is going to look or sound like until we are completely finished.

Life is Creation.

My name is Logan, and I live to create.

It happened again

It happened again. This morning I was getting dressed for school when I heard the 'text received' tone on my cell phone. Every time I hear that I have a text now, I can feel my heart rate go up, my heart pounding just a little harder in my chest, a slight chill creeping from the lower part of my back and radiating up into my skull and through my arms. When I picked up my cell from the dresser where it was plugged in, charging, my shirt only half on, I saw the following message,

logan. error. logan. input over. logan. distance read. logan. stop. logan. over output. stop. logan. stop. logan. end. end. end. logan. end.

Sender? 'Unknown', it said. I stood there for a moment, nervous as a hen, the phone sitting lightly in my sweaty palm, wondering if I should reply. It could have been a trap; I reply and they start tracking me. Maybe it was a message from someone trying to find and help me. Well, before I had a chance to take action, the phone's screen went blank, then black as the phone just went dead. All I could do was stare at it like a dummy.

This has happened a number of times. I can't be 100% sure it's them, but what would you think if you were me and you'd been through some of the same, uh, same stuff? Even though it scares me to death, it's starting to get just a little bit more annoying than scary. The phone shows some bizarre message without a sender, then completely dies without so much as a whimper. If I leave it alone for a while, it just comes back on on its own but with all of the information, numbers, addresses, emails, etc., completely erased. I rarely bother saving people's numbers anymore.

I asked my mom if I could get a new phone (as if that would help). If you're a kid and you've asked your parents for a new phone when your old one still had at least 50% functionality, you can guess how that went.

DON"T DO THIS

For those of you who don't think I'm crazy, yet, you'll probably at least think I'm stupid after you read this.

So we learned a little bit in science class about photosynthesis. It seems that plants are actually solar powered, taking sunlight and converting it into energy using specialized 'converter' organs called chloroplasts. Pretty amazing. People have been working on developing solar power for while now and haven't gotten close to what plants can do.

Anyways, I've also been doing a little running. Actually, I've been doing a lot of running. I saw the movie Saint Ralph and caught the running bug. Usually, can't put in any road mileage until after school and, by then, it's pretty freakin' hot. Let me restate that: it's like running through a furnace. Supposedly, winter has started here in south Texas, but that only means the mornings are cooler. Mid to late afternoons are, for the time being, still scorchers. When it's summer, it's like running on the surface of the sun.

So what about the chloroplasts and photosynthesis? Well, here was my logic: if plants can convert sunlight to energy, then surely my skin cells, loaded with chloroplasts, could do the same thing. Stay with me for a moment. Just think about it: going out for a run on a hot, sunny day, the whole time your body being rejuvenated (not burdened) by the blazing rays of the sun. It's genius right? Forget the fact that the chloroplasts might turn your skin green, giving you a nice Incredible Hulk tone...It's the extra energy that would really matter.

So how would I get chloroplasts into my skin cells? A smoothie, of course. Now, before you click the link AWAY from my blog never to return, let me just say that I did not make a smoothie entirely out of grass or leaves from trees. I simply made a regular fruit smoothie and popped in a handful of grass and, well, other green plants straight out of the ground into the blender and had it for breakfast.

And you know what? I ran great that afternoon. Never felt better running in my life. I floated around the neighborhood on a cloud. My legs felt like they could have spun forever. The only problem was that, later that evening...well, I'll leave out details, but my stomach and I didn't get along all that well. A few times I'm pretty sure we were close to going our separate ways. And I'm pretty sure the chloroplasts from the grass didn't go to my skin cells. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure they weren't even inside my body when the day was over...

No, I don't think I'll be doing that again any time soon. And no, I'm not crazy. Stupid, but not crazy.

Polar Bear, Alpha, Chapter 5

The beast lurks in our dreams. He tries to hide himself, tries to blend in with the rest of the dream, but he's always there, watching and listening. He is there with you in your dreams. Look for him and you will find him. When you see him, prowling in the shadows, you will know that they are trying to get into your head, trying to get to your thoughts.

Once, and only once, did I have the courage to confront him.

Download chapter 5 of Alpha here.

Chapter 5

Currently for PC only.

Learn more at http://www.iamaprisoner.com/

I know. I sound crazy. Maybe I am, but they really are listening...

Another rant: Texting

I know a lot of people aren't going to like this, but here goes nothing. Let's take a journey through the history of communication (forgive me for generalities).

As far as we can tell, the earliest people knew and communicated with each other through the simplest means possible: face to face, direct communication. Whether you believe that communication was words or grunts, it was done face to face and even with physical contact. Those people also lived close together in smaller communities...everyone knew everyone else intimately simply by daily physical and vocal interaction.

At some point later in history, people learned they could communicate with each other by leaving messages in the form of meaningful marks on physical objects. One person could leave a message and depart, maybe a simple line or arrow in the dirt pointing to a cave, and another person would come along and communicate with the person who was there before through that message. With this method of communication, just a little distance is put between the two people, and some of the personal, intimate interaction is lost.

As communities grew and separated, leaving physical messages for others to find turned into delivered messages. If you had something you wanted to tell another person in another village or town, you either traveled over there and talked to them face to face, or you had a physical message delivered to them. Even more distance was put between people trying to communicate.

As civilization grew and developed, the necessity for delivering messages grew. The time would come when people would have information sent over long distances via a man on horseback with a sack of correspondence, train, a boat, even carrier pigeons. However the information was communicated, more and more distance was put between people.

Civilization may have taken a tiny step forward with the invention of the telephone. Unlike most television and radio, you can have some personal, back and forth with the person you're talking to on the phone. You may not be physical there with them, but it's usually better than sending a letter.

Now, we even have cell phones, where you can talk to someone almost anytime, almost anywhere in the world you want. This is supposed to make us closer right? That's what the cell phone companies say(then offer unlimited texting).

But it seems that talking to another human being on the phone is getting too personal. Now, instead of making a call on the cell phone, we just send a text; it's a way of getting around having a conversation with a person, having some back and forth, real communication.

I know, I know, there are some times when texting is necessary, perhaps when you're in a situation where you can't talk. But, honestly, how many times do you send a text about something when you could just as easily call the person and say "hey! how are you doing...?" and have a little personal communication. Really, how essential and necessary is texting? Maybe it's just another way for us to further distance ourselves from other people.

This is what they want. This is what the Polar Bear Project wants. The less we communicate, real, personal, intimate communication with each other, the easier it is for them to get to our minds.

Honda unicycle

Okay. Did anyone see the movie Wall-E? Now, I know that it was just a movie, fiction, make-believe, but a lot of great fiction is filled with truths and good arguments about reality.

One argument in the movie was about how much waste we produce. The whole, deserted city of garbage was a great statement about the direction in which we're headed as far as waste production and management.

Another argument was in the interstellar, vacation ship, on which resided a community of, well, excessively obese people riding around on little personal couches and having practically everything done for them by personal computers and gadgets. Again, I know it was just a movie, but we have to admit there's at least a little truth in what it says about our desire to make our lives as easy and convenient as possible.

The human body is designed to do WORK. It is a masterfully crafted bio-mechanical unit with the most sophisticated and most highly developed control/ command system (the brain) known to mankind. Even the exercise and fitness industry are using campaigns of 'workout less, lose more weight and be healthier.' And products such as the new Honda unicycle are just one step closer to us riding around on little personal couches, being stuffed with food, while computers and a personal gadgets do all of the work for us. Products such as this unicycle are one step closer to just handing our lives over to Polar Bear Project.

Appearances

Believe it or not, I just now saw the Twilight movie for the first time (I know, I know, where have I been, right?) As entertained as I was, I'll have to wait for enough endorsements from enough people to take the time to read the books...

As I was watching the movie, though, it did make me think about some things, mainly appearances. You really can't tell much about a person just by considering their physical appearance. Appearances can, in fact, be misleading. Sometimes people dress a certain way because that's how they want people to see them, meanwhile hiding the kind of person they really are.

The only way you can really get to know a person is if you spend time with them. Listen to what they like to talk about (or not talk about), notice the decisions they make, notice what they laugh at, and how they like to spend their time.

Time. That's important. It takes time to get to know a person. I know it's a cliche, but never judge a book by it's cover. Take the time to open the book, read the text, examine the layers, make your judgement from the inside out.

My name is Logan...

Lighten up? Seriously...

I just need to get something off my chest. I am a serious person. Plain and simple. If you're around me and you point at something - maybe a cat playing with a toy mouse or slobber-mouthed baby clapping his hands and grinning when you make goofy faces at him - and say something like, "Look! Logan! How cute!", you're probably not going to get the response out of me you'd want. I may even choose to completely ignore you. And random things that a lot of people find humorous or amusing, funny little coincidences like a wet squirrel or a half-eaten donut riding on top of some one's car, don't really pass as comedy for me. Don't get me wrong, I like to laugh from time to time, sometimes uncontrollably. I like to have fun and enjoy different forms of amusement. It's just a little harder for me. I guess it's about the different ways different people see the world. No doubt it's also about the different experiences people have. If you had the same experiences I had and if you saw the world the way I see it - a world of enslaved minds - maybe you'd be a little more serious, too.

I just had to get this off my chest. I'm not a party-pooper or anything. I'm just tired of people saying, "Lighten up, Logan!"

Apollyon, music blog

Well, I finally got the music blog up and running. From time to time, I'll put up newly composed music for your listening and downloading pleasure. All of the music is free for you to use and listen to however you please. If you decide to use something in a project of your own, at least let me know how it turns out. I decided to use music selections from Alpha to get things rolling. You can either go back to my blog profile and follow the link there to the music blog or just click below. Listen. Enjoy. Don't let them get to your mind...it's the last place on earth you can hide.

Music blog

Mmmmm. I smell dinner pancakes. Excellent...

Carmina Burana

Just listened to Carmina Burana by Carl Orff on the radio. Awesome. Simply awesome. I once heard a techno version of it; why do people do such horrible things to great pieces of music? Well, I'm sure someone had a good reason...sue me for thinking they should have just left it alone.

That's my big news for the day. Carl Orff. Carmina Burana. Awesome. Check it out.

Oh, wait. I also finished that Cryptid Hunters book. It played out like a movie that teases you with only suggestions of the good stuff right to the very end. It...well, I won't give away the ending for those of you who haven't read it. Definitely a good read for those of you who like zoology, biology, and other such natural sciences.

Orff. Carmina Burana. Really awesome. Find a recording of it.

The Beast

I just woke up from a long nap and another dream of the digital city. In this version of the dream, the city was still intact. As usual, I wandered around in parks and alleys trying not to draw attention to myself. I'm getting used to having the dream. It's a lot easier now that Gabriel has stopped chasing me. I don't know if the beast has given up on trying to get to me. The people in the city are just as apathetic as ever.

I know they're just dreams and I readily admit that none of this would count as concrete proof to most people that the Polar Bear Project is real. The Anonymous reader has a great point: why should anyone believe anything that hasn't been proven to them concretely? However, those of you who have had the same experiences, those of you who have seen the beast in your dreams, understand how real this mystery is. For those of you who haven't seen the beast in your dreams, I don't blame you for not believing; maybe Gabriel was right: maybe it's better not to know.

Well, now I'm wide awake. Maybe I'll have a snack and try to write some music.

Comment by Anonymous Reader

This was a comment posted by an anonymous reader on my earlier post, "They are listening to your thoughts". The post is, verbatim, the reader's original thoughts. The only reason I reposted it as a new message was because I couldn't add "bleeps" in comment moderation.

........................................................................................................................................................................

Here's the fundamental flaw that I'm seeing in your logic: you have no proof. Everything you are basing your beliefs on is nothing more than assumption and misinformation. The idea that the government reads our thoughts by downloading them from phone towers is as ludicrous as most religions. Unless you have indisputable proof, you have no basis for your claims. I could easily say that my desk is responsible for my sleeping simply because it is in my room while I am sleeping. I can't prove that this is true, but it can't be disproven, either.

I realize that you are just a kid, I was too. Not that long ago, either. I was in the same boat then, too. I was easily swayed into believing that the government was this intrusive, controlling puppet master that was going to eventually brainwash the population and use us all as pawns in a global war. I couldn't prove any of my thoughts, but no one could disprove them, so I took them as truth. I had that "gut feeling". Then I got older (I know how cliché this is going to sound) and realized that I was just being paranoid. The government has better things to do than monitor the thoughts of its citizens. It would be way too costly, too dangerous and frankly, pointless. Not to mention the fact that the technology to carry out such a project simply does not exist.

I think it's great that you are questioning things, that's how people get educated; and you seem like a very intelligent kid, but you have to look at both sides. Only believing what you want to believe is how people become prejudiced and biased. Once that happens, you've become your own enemy.

-**** *******

P.S. - The whole 2012 thing is a load of ****. Yes, the Mayan calendar ends at 21 Dec 2012, but you have to consider a few things.

1. The Mayans made a calendar that extended through thousands of years. They probably figured that going that far ahead would suffice for then.

2. The "end" is actually the end of a cycle. One of many cycles that exist on the calender. It has been taken WAY out of context by New Age psychics and people looking to make a quick buck as being the "end of the world".

3. Predictions like this have existed throughout modern history. People have sincerely thought the world was going to end in the years (http://www.randi.org/encyclopedia/appendix3.html)

Spend some time on that website. James Randi is a wonderful guy. A great skeptic. He can provide a lot of insightful information

11 September 2009

Finally, it is raining. All summer the rain clouds just sort of teased us, roaring and rumbling by, only slowing down to sprinkle a few drops before scuttling away into the distance. But now we see that, truly, "when it rains, it pours."

Rain is great, especially the kind that just goes on and on, sometimes for days, the sky completely covered by murky grayness, the whole city getting a good, naturally cleansing. What's even better is when it starts to flood and the whole city sort of has to slow down and let nature do its thing. People drive slower (at least the smart ones do), school gets cancelled, outdoor sporting events are postponed, and a kid can just sit around the house and be lazy and not have to worry about not getting things done.

I just looked at my watch and realized it is 9-11. I don't really remember too much about that awful day. I remember all the kids having to go into the auditorium at school and the principle telling us something about how we should never take for granted our freedoms as American citizens. I remember seeing some of the images of planes crashing into buildings in New York on T.V. and thinking it was part of a moving or something.

When you think about it, major tragedies like that are bound to happen at least every couple of decades, if not more frequently. As technology gets more advanced, I try not to think about what the next major tragedy will be and where it will happen. Not to mention all the things that are going on to which we are all completely oblivious...

Ah, there's nothing like just sitting near a window and watching the rain fall. There's nothing quite so relaxing. I can just sit and watch, feeling all of my fears and concerns being temporarily washed away in the cleansing flood.

2012

I've been hearing a lot about the Mayan prophecy that the world will end (or at least dramatically change) in 2012. Everyone seems to tell a different variation of this prophecy (by the way, if anyone knows something about it that I don't, I don't mind being educated). I have also been hearing a lot of people say that this is directly tied to the Polar Bear Project. I just want to go on record as saying that I DO NOT KNOW if they are related. Countless times in my dreams, the beast has referred to "the end of the world as we know it" and countless times he has referred to himself as "the future". The Polar Bear Project definitely seems to be working within a time frame: there is a countdown to an end, but to what end I am not sure. Many of my dreams of the digital city have ended with some horrific, cataclysmic event, after which there is nothing left but a scorched landscape. How can Polar Bear be the future if there is no future?

Cryptids

Right now I'm reading a really cool book by Ronald Smith called Cryptid Hunters. It's about these two kids who end up living with their weird uncle who happens to search for creatures that supposedly don't really exist (cryptids). There haven't been any real encounters with Bigfoot or anything like that in the book, but I'm only about half way through. They find this large, green egg that's supposedly that of a dinosaur that still lives somewhere deep in the Congo. How cool would that be, to find out that dinosaurs still exist?

Anyway, I just read online about all these new species of animals they've been discovering in Papau New Guinea's Rain Forest. Some of them they've even found in the pit of an inactive volcano. Pretty awesome. Most of these creatures, like a frog with fangs, a tiny parrot, and some strange looking rat, have never had any contact with human beings.

If you get a chance, do a search for newly discovered or amazing species of animals. When you see some of them, the existence of cryptid animals such as Bigfoot or the Kraken (like from Pirates of the Caribbean) doesn't seem so unlikely.

It just goes to show you that, no matter how unlikely something may be, there's no denying it once it's proven to be real...

They are listening to your thoughts

Many of you may be wondering what I mean when I say, "They are listening to your thoughts." Like I always say, I don't know exactly what's going on, but I'll do my best to explain my words.

First of all, 'they' refers to The Polar Bear Project. I don't know if it's just one person who's doing it, or if it's a group of people like a secret government agency or maybe even terrorists. Whether it's one person or a hundred, the Polar Bear Project is real.

How do they listen to our thoughts? Easy. They download our thoughts onto computers over wireless networks just like you would download a song or a video from the Internet. Just think about it: somewhere, at this very moment, someone could be looking at your thoughts on a computer screen, or listening to every thought that passes through your head on a digital audio device. Not a single thought or idea that passes through your head is private. They monitor your mind like guards at a prison watching every move of the prisoners trapped in their cells.

The truth is that, my story, everything that I confessed in Polar Bear, Alpha, IS REAL. They really are listening. They really are monitoring us. The Polar Bear Project is real.

The question remains: WHY are they listening to our thoughts?

Composing

I spent, no, wasted, two hours today at the piano, trying to come up with a new piece of music. It was just one of those efforts where it seems like everything you come up with is worthless. Every note I played sounded like garbage to me. The more I tried to force something out of myself, the more frustrated I got. It was like my brain had went on vacation, sitting somewhere on a beach in the Caribbean while I sat with an empty skull banging on the piano keys like a caveman. It's weird: the creativity seems to come and go as it pleases, and no amount of diligence and concentration will bring it back against it's will. Two hours of my life, down the drain.

Composing music should be effortless. When everything is just right, it should feel like someone else is telling you what to write. You shouldn't have to labor at bringing the music out of your spirit. You shouldn't have to force it out. The music should pour out of your spirit, and the process should happen just as naturally as a river arriving at a cliff and cascading down as a waterfall.

4 September 2009

I went to a football game today. Nico's older brother Matthew who's in eighth grade, plays for his school. Three and a half quarters without a touchdown. When the home team finally scored with three minutes to go, there was an explosion of celebration from the crowd. The cheerleaders were bouncing up and down in red, white and black outfits, doing flips, clapping and crying out things like, "Yeah! Go Cardinals! Whoooo!" The other team's defense, dressed in blue uniforms with red helmets, dragged back to the sideline, devastated, their coach yelling at them to the sound of the home team's celebration. An overweight man with his hat turned backwards and a red and black shirt with a cardinal on it, jumped out of his seat and spilled his large soda on one of my shoes; he didn't even notice and proceeded to cheer and pump his fists madly in the air along with everyone else in the home team crowd.

The poor devils. The football players. The crowd. The cheerleaders. Even the people passing by in cars on the nearby street who were not interested in the game in any way whatsoever. The overweight man who spilled his drink on me. They have no idea, no idea whatsoever what's happening to them.

3 September 2009

So, my history teacher actually took up my cell phone because I was texting during class. I didn't even bother asking her if I could have it back after class was over.

I had my piano lesson today with Mr. Milton. Every since that day I asked him about the cut on the side of his head, he's been rather cold toward me. It almost seems like he doesn't want to teach me anymore. He is very immediate and direct with all his answers to my questions, even a little harsh sometimes when I've asked a question that he thinks I should already know the answer to. We don't talk about anything other than music, and if I try to talk about something else, he just says something like, "Focus, Logan. Focus on the music."

And Bobby? I didn't see him all summer. It was like he completely vanished. When I finally got my cell phone to work after he sent me that suspicious text, everything on it had been erased...EVERYTHING. All the numbers, contacts, saved messages, everything had been erased, including the strange text Bobby had sent me.

I have only seen glimpses of Bobby now that school has started, but he's even worse than he was before. Now, he's like a phantom, always at a distance with this blank expression on his face. I went to his house twice to see him. When I knocked on the front door, no one answered, even though there were cars in the driveway and I could hear people inside. One of the times I actually saw Bobby through the dining room window playing the piano. After I knocked and no one answered, I went to the window and tapped to get his attention. He just kept right on playing as if he didn't hear me...What have they done to him?

I'm am trying my best to just live my life, but it is difficult. Is my mind free or am I simply doing, thinking, and saying what the Polar Bear Project wants me to?

Fragments

I am secretly writing this text-to-blog mobile message as I sit in the back of history class. It's grueling, one letter at a time as I feel around the keypad of my phone under my desk. My teacher is saying something about how Russians and Americans see the history of World War Two differently. The cute girl with the light brown hair slightly turns her head from time to time and sneaks a peak back at me with a grin on her face (at least, I tell myself that she's looking back at me when, in actuality, she probably has no idea I even exist). I can smell her mango watermelon body spray three desks back...

I'm off topic. I am writing this because I found something weird in my locker today at school. I didn't want to forget the details and so I had to pass this information on to you as soon as I could. Anyways, when I went to get my history book out of the locker before class, several fragments of a busted cell phone fell out and clattered on the floor around my feet. I don't know who's phone it was or where it came from. I just stood there, paralyzed, staring at the fragments on the floor.

The piece that used to be the screen shattered into several fragments. The blue plastic casing also broke into several smaller pieces. Little buttons with numbers from the keypad scattered over the floor. It was like someone smashed it up, then carefully placed it in my locker so it would fall out when I opened the door.

It could have been a joke one of the other kids pulled on me. When I used to try to warn them about the Polar Bear Project I was just asking to get picked on. Just start telling people you think someone is brainwashing everyone with radio waves and see what kind of pranks get pulled on you.

When I went to pick up the fragments, a single name flashed through my head:

Apollyon.

As I stared down at the fragments of the phone, I felt like someone was watching me.

The beast is aware of my actions. Does it matter if he knows I am writing this? Does it matter that he knows you are reading it? If they can truly listen to our thoughts and monitor our every action, is there any way we can stop them?

The teacher just gave me a look...

A dream, 2 September 2009

I wake up, laying in a patch of grass next to a metal fence, in a corner of the neighbor's backyard. It's dark, early morning dark, and everything is completely silent. I'm covered with a small, thin blue blanket that I had when I was just a toddler. I look up. Beyond the tops of the dark trees, the perfectly clear sky is filled with stars, their number "like sands upon the seashore". Occasionally there is even a shooting star.

I toss the blanket over the fence into my own backyard, dust the thin blades of grass off my shirt and climb to my feet. I'm not sure why, but it feels dangerous for me to climb over the fence, and so I decide to walk around the garage to get into my own yard.

As I round the corner of the garage, I see the massive, dark form of a statue, a statue of a polar bear, illuminated only by starlight, standing menacingly in the driveway. At first, it seems to be facing me, but then, extremely slowly, it turns its head and looks away from me. It's face is almost completely overshadowed. Where it's eyes should be, there is only darkness.

I try to ignore it. I try to forget that it is there, even though I am terrified. I look up at the sky. It's so beautiful, all of the stars scattered like cosmic dust. The moon is full and crystal clear with all its craters, mountains, and valleys. It looks so close, so magnificently large, like it's going to crash into the earth. An incomplete halo of light closes around it as if following the hour hand of a clock. It is the countdown toward some grand, astronomical event. When the halo is complete and perfectly encircles the moon, it suddenly vanishes like a vapor in the wind, and I feel a chill run through me like some secret event has taken place.

All of a sudden, as if it was there the whole time, another moon appears just beneath the old one. It is much larger and has colorful, rings slowly rotating around it like those around the planet Saturn. Both moons seem to be getting larger and larger, closer and closer.

Cosmic dust starts to drizzle down from the sky. Everything is so silent, so perfectly and wonderfully silent. The scene, the star filled night sky, the two magnificent moons, the light shower of cosmic dust, is all so beautiful.

I close me eyes and lower my head. The beast, the polar bear, has vanished from the the driveway. Relieved, I proceed to walk through the gate into my backyard. As I pass through the gate, I notice the window to my bedroom has been flung open, as if someone, or something, had entered there. With the terrible chill overwhelming me once again, I stare into the blackness of the open window.

This is when I wake up.

1 September, 2009

I wake up around 3:00 in the morning. My heart is racing. The silence is deafening, pounding in my ears to the rhythm of my heartbeat. I am almost completely numb from my shoulders down to my finger tips, and when I rub my hands together, they do not feel like my hands at all. In a single moment, I can feel everything, past, present, and future, and I am powerless to change anything. I open my mouth to cry out, but only more silence issues from my lips into the darkness. There is a constant ringing in my ears, and a soft tone, sounds like a G sharp, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. I want to get up, to go to my instrument and create, but I'm almost completely paralyzed, like a dark stranger is laying on top of me and holding me down, my demon, my succubus. He is trying to keep me from acting, keep me from changing the course of events, keep me from helping the world as I was meant to do. He wants me to ignore my purpose, to give up and pass away silently into the shadows. My heart continues to race. My breaths become shorter and shorter. Something is happening, or about to happen. The world is not ready, but change, apocalypse, is inevitable. I can't slow my heartrate. A slight pain sits in the pit of my chest. I clench my eyes tightly shut and pray to see the light of another day.

"I must work the works of He who sent me while it is day. The night cometh, when no man can work." -- John 9:4