---Righteous to Gone---
I can?t recall the last time I cared to remember anything, to be honest. The effort necessary to retain memories nowadays hardly feels worth it, and maybe you know what I mean when I say that I?d rather take in each moment unaccompanied, despite how challenging a life like that is. Two evils, yeah, but it?s the weaker, and one that has little reason for a person to develop any form of coping mechanism to deal with the continuous absurdities of daily existence. If every memory lasted only as long as a cigarette then the world would be far more comfortable than it is now, without idiotic grudges and traditions chaining us to depraved and obligatory lives.
Regardless, I was growing impatient. In a perfect world, my friend would have arrived thirty minutes ago to pick me up, but he most likely found himself lost in mental pollution and therefore unable to find his way here. This resulted in me sitting on my couch watching a rerun I had already seen before of some show I cared nothing for while a storm thundered and pounded against my windows as if to say, ?get comfortable, you might as well stay in.? Of course, storms couldn?t talk but they tried their best to and often had far more interesting things to say than most people, so I let it rage as it was and accepted my defeat without argument. It won this round, and was being a dick about it too. Damn storms.
I felt myself drifting off to sleep in that moment, with half of my mind doing its best to persuade the other halve that they should get their acts together, that there was no point in going out tonight because there was no reason to believe that this night would be different than any of the other infinity nights we had gone out, that if we slept in our own bed for once we?d enter the next day comfortably and would maybe even be able to cook ourselves a delicious breakfast in the morning if we felt like it when we woke up. That half of the brain was being a tool, and was consequently ignored for the means it was. It?s a coward anyway, the first half that takes off once the initial bottles are opened and gone.
A horn woke me from my sleepless dreaming, and before I left I made sure to turn the television off in common courtesy to whatever spirits which may or may not haunt my house. Not even they should have to watch that drivel. I stepped outside and felt the immediate warmth of the sun on my cheeks, inviting me into nature, even causing me to grin merrily as I lit up the night?s first cigarette and walked to my friend?s car with a certain liveliness in my step. The car wasn?t anything special, but it didn?t have to be so it never bothered us. That?s sort of how we were, now that I think about it, nothing special, only what we had to be. Nothing more than we were, dreaming we were something. Mumbling a hello as I slipped into the passenger seat, we were soon on our way to fill the backseats before embarking on whatever it was we were going to do that night.
There was no need to apologize for being late; at least, we never did. Whenever I had the car I?m sure I didn?t look at clocks before leaving. Time only matters to people who are waiting for it, and considering he was here and I was no longer waiting I saw no point in being a bitch and whining, so I let it go. It?s not like he would have apologized had I not let it go but that?s not really the point.
?Fucking rain,? he said to me through the sound of the storm trying its absolute hardest to not be forgotten. ?It?s not so much the rain I hate,? he went on after a moment, ?but the other drivers. It?s as if rain is a dumbass amplifier, which doesn?t help when every person on the road is already an asshole.? Naturally I agreed with him. It?s not like I could really deny any of his claims. However, I did add one slight curve ball to the conversation through my attempts to convey, in between drags of the delicious smoke in my mouth, that wasn?t he included in his complaint? Was not he himself one of these drivers? ?Except me, of course,? and that was it. Of course.
When we pulled into the driveway, our next passenger sat perched upon the top of his house, just above a pillar used to support the porch roof, smoking his pipe. He leaned out into the oblivion that was the ten foot drop just far enough to inform gravity of his disobedience, and was poised to defend himself should gravity attempt to reassert its dominance. In all, he appeared as if he were the top piece in a totem pole, perched in glory, and part of me wished to disregard social norms and dance around it as if to bring a much needed rain; to express the animal passion long since hibernating in humanity, waiting for springtime of the soul to rise again and drive us all into magnificent insanity. Not today, though. He snapped out of his starring eye contest with the void and leapt from the roof, floating down to us below much in the same manner that I assume an angel would have, but this angel had long since been removed of his heavenly status, many times at that, and was better for it.
?Good morning,? he said to us, despite the sun having already set, and shamelessly piled into the back seat, pipe in hand. I thought about smoking a pipe once, but if memories lasted as long as a pipe did we?d all be in trouble. It?s a good thing they don?t. Maybe for him. ?You guys ever remember something you wish you hadn?t, but didn?t know why?? The man was plagued by good memories. They troubled him indefinitely, always reminding him of the love and joy he used to have, presenting him with mental jubilation while he slowly burned to ash in a solipsist fire. All we could do was watch as the flame raged inside him, hallowing him, keeping him from us; all we could do was watch and internally weep for our friend, the strongest of us all.
There was only one more person to pick up, and as we drove through the rain to get to him I couldn?t help but wonder if he was pondering anything of importance, or if he was watching the same TV show I turned off way back when, what, thanks to these cigarettes, felt like ages, so many memories, ago. Most likely the latter, but I?d like to think he was on the edge of some important philosophical break through, that when we arrived he would tell us that we just had to come into his house and talk about it instead of going out tonight. We would go in and drink beer and contemplate ultimatums and paradoxes for God knows how many cigarettes and beers and inevitably realize that all we managed to accomplish was the fast-forward movement of time and be happy.
On our way to his house someone almost hit us from the side, which of course didn?t help our driver?s already fading faith in humanity?s ability to operate a vehicle when a little rain reckons to throw itself into our previously unstable reality. He?d be damned, apparently, were we to run into one fellow driver possessing worthy ability. Hopefully, I thought, we wouldn?t run into one then.
We found our final companion waiting for us out on the sidewalk that led into his street. His impatience with the television and his girlfriend, who wasn?t his girlfriend anymore, forced him restlessly from his couch and into the road, where he paced for a while until our smiling faces drove up next to him, then halted his toing and froing to join us, knowing that somewhere at the end of the road this car was on held the night?s enlightenment. I never much understood pacing, even though I?ve caught myself doing it before. If it wasn?t there the first ten times you walked to that spot, then why spend all that time walking and building up tragic hope that this time you would find yourself having gained what you lacked? Sometimes it?s nice though, just seeing your foot prints on the ground. The earth keeps memories too, on occasion, and it?s pleasant knowing you?re one of them, at least for as long as your footprint remains. Anyone who walks by that spot, were they to look down, would see proof of your existence. It was gone before we left, though. The rain washed his footprints away.
?I was in love with her, man,? he said to me, though his lips hardly seemed to move, ?she was the one.? We sat in silence in the car for the longest time, none of us really knowing what to say. It made our hopes for the night all the higher, because he needed it. He needed a good night to get his mind of that bitch. ?But the thing is,? he went on even we all thought he was finished, ?the one before her was the one, too. They?re all the one. I?m in love with her, and all hers. I can never be happy.?
I?m not sure how long we were driving before two stars exploded next to us in brilliant unison. Having smoked my last cigarette, I was no longer subject to the short term memory I had become accustom to. I could remember everything, as if each memory waited patiently for the last of the ash to fall to flood my mind like a ruptured dam, drowning me in passionate sorrow. It was in this state that I realized I was no longer on the ground. The cloudless sky below allowed me to perceive the world, to see everything there ever was to see. I guess that?s not too bad at all, I remember thinking to myself as we were swallowed by the stars.
Source: http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/RolePlayGateway/~3/7-VvbtroZeY/viewtopic.php
autism speaks ubaldo jimenez ncaa final country music awards autism awareness angelman syndrome total recall
Skin and hair care are two of the main areas that people are getting more and more conscious about. Along with following the latest trends and style statements, it is important to have a well-groomed and flawless look to make heads turn. A healthy skin and hair will complete your appearance and make things worthwhile.
Most of the talk around games tends to focus on climate. It's about finding the right customers, funding, platform, business model, partnerships, metric and discovery solutions, technology, route to market and so on. However every always says that the first rule of making games is to make sure that the game is fun. Without a fun game there's no rule two. True, but what does "fun" mean?
If you have yet to watch Tuesday?s season finale of Covert Affairs, avert your eyes now. Everyone else, you may proceed?
A little consolidation in the world of big data and Apache Hadoop development: