Golden it shines, so bright
there's almost pain
Pain is the mother of change.
As vague as smoke
Real as the Sun
Truth is central to both.

Buried deep within
Shining through your pupils
Secrets that are known.
Nursed and cosseted
Offered up in sacred bliss
Gods like it when you're sincere.

Returned in pieces
Mangled, broken,
Spat upon, despised,
Almost lovingly torn apart -
Your dream, crushed.



- - - - - - - -



I thought dashes were more appropriate than my usual asteriks or plus signs. The flat lines look like exactly that - flat lines. This thing's dead, Doctor; take it off the IV drip already.



As for those who are interested in what all that's about, you ain't getting nothing.


* * * * * * * *


If anyone's reading Knife of Dreams by Robert Jordan right now, isn't it simply marvellous? I'm reading it slowly because the final novel wont be out for at least another year, I'm sure, and i want this to last as long as possible!



The idea of the book blog keeps coming back to me. I think maybe the idea really isn't half bad. If it gets big, that'd be nice - I'm still hoping a blog can be launched from Singapore, become popular, and yet not involve naked photos or utter stupidity. Well if wishes were fishes there'd be no space in the sea, but the fact remains.




Here's a strange thought: I was looking at the cutest little kitten the other day at a student's house, and the strangest thought popped into my head. It'd been percolating in my subconscious for quite a while (ever notice how you can sorta tell?) but it finally came into the open - out of hiding, so to speak. I looked at the kitten, and thought to myself: That's not alive. That's not life.

Now I know that sounds very strange, but let me explain:

- No, I dont mean that the kitten wasn't sentient. *Please.

- No, I dont mean that I think the kitten was fake. Refer to "*" above.

- I DO mean that something strange was sparking away in my cranium.


Here's what it was like, in a vague sense. I looked at it jumping around on the table, batting a piece of string the way young cats do, and I thought "That kitten doesnt seem alive. It just seems like some amazingly well made mechanical contrivance, designed to give the illusion of independent movement and some limited thought." It seemed like something or someone had created this marvellous, but definitely not living, toy.

Which is, of course, a very very strange thing to think.


It did lead me to two very interesting ideas:

A) Did that thought cross my mind because I am, subconsciously, at least, beginning to subscribe to the idea that all I perceive is merely the product of my imagination? Or perhaps a lesser facet of this: that the animals I see are imagined? (Closer analysis of this will reveal that there's a dangerous similarity between what I'm saying and the rantings of a madman. What must be said needs to be uttered, however)

and

B) Has some strange power replaced some or all living animals on Earth with machines? Yes this does sound farfetched, I admit, but really, is it more farfetched than (A), which at least suggests that you, dear reader, are the creation of my fevered mind?


of course, there's always

C) I'm stark raving mad, a lunatic, insane, one Valium short of an overdose, one sandwich short of a picnic basket, slightly round the twist.



And yet how will you ever prove to me that the kitten is truly alive?




I leave you with that thought.



Promise me you'll be around
when I start to slip away
All I want's your solemn word, your promise,
That when my eyes fall slowly shut,
You'll stay.