The Man is aged – his face is weathered and creased; his hair is a dirty grey, extending past his shoulders; his eyes are lifeless and blank, gazing into a distant world and time; his hands are blistered and dry. There are flakes of maroon where his fingers are grasping the tools’ handles – tight and unrelenting. In a rehearsed and well-practiced manner, He brings hammer to chisel, striking the living matter for the 8456th time to date and another piece of glittering mass falls to the ground.

The clock on the wall ticks away – counting the minutes, the hours and the days. The figure continues his exercise of chipping away at the stone, molding it into the shape in his mind. As the days continue to pass, the mess on the floor builds around the Man’s feet. *ching* *ching* *ching* *ching* *ching* *ching* And then it stops. A whole year has elapsed. 365 days of continuous labour came to an abrupt halt. The Artist stood – eyes not even looking at the finished product. There was no need to – His muscles had memorised every necessary movement to create what He wanted. With supernatural strength, He hoists the statue onto his shoulder and moves towards a door concealed in the darkest corner of the room – a solid iron door, too heavy for those below him. He pushes against the side of the door and slowly – and unnervingly quietly – the door opens. With the portal fully open, he grasps at the single thread of wire suspended from the ceiling. And like the the First day, there is light. Light to reveal this hidden gallery of sculpture; this factory of forgery and replication. Row after row of identical figurines crafted out of the same matte rock, the lustrous glow no longer emanating from them. He sets His most recent creation down, returns the room to darkness and closes the door once more. He strides back to his seat, picks up his tools and waits for His next delivery.

This juxtaposition of personality traits confuses people, I think. In fact, it confuses myself as I am unable to explain really why I haven’t met up with so-and-so in such an amount of time. (I’m pretty sure at the moment I’m writing this, I won’t have seen some of my close friends for a pretty long time!) How can one person be so outgoing and happy-go-lucky when they are with friends, but then be so much of a hermit when given the opportunity? My only explanation is the word I have used as a title for this piece: sanctum.

I am my own temple – my own little retreat. Being naturally introvert, I use up a lot of energy when I socialise. Don’t get me wrong, I love meeting people and having a good laugh but it really drains me. So when I get time alone, I kind of over-indulge and get into a habit of just enjoying my own company rather than making any effort to see my friends. In some ways, that makes me come across a bit aloof and uncaring, and possibly even selfish. I suppose that could be so. But it’s less about not wanting to see people, and more about the fact that I just like being by myself. So if you don’t see me or hear from me in a while, don’t sit and wait for me. Contact me first and drag me out of my reverie because chances are, if you don’t, I won’t.

“It is human to err;

to do the unwise and tread upon glass.

It is stupid to care;

to look for a path and walk with light feet.

It is courage to charge;

to take the bull’s horns and throw morals to wind.

It is valour to stand;

to do what one wants and say ‘fuck’ to the rest.”

said the Fool.

]]> http://ether.me.uk/a-fools-lament/feed/ 0 http://ether.me.uk/pendulum/ http://ether.me.uk/pendulum/#comments Sun, 18 Apr 2010 16:24:30 +0000 Matt http://ether.me.uk/?p=272 Every action has a consequence. Like the silver spheres that collide upon their counterparts only to send a ripple of kinetic energy along and disrupt the peaceful lay of he who is at the end.

Things happen. This is inevitable. You can live in the deepest of caves with nothing but a candle for company but things will still happen: the days will pass with each sunrise and sunset, flowers will bloom and then die with the changing seasons, and the tides will rise and fall with the passing moon. However, unlike these natural occurrences, some things are avoidable.

Humans are gifted with the blessing of choice – we can decide whether we do something or not. Unfortunately, this choice is often taken for granted. People take little pride in their ability to choose and often don’t take it seriously enough. What you decide to do, or not do, will have an effect on the way things play out. Most of the time, these effects are little and almost impalpable. Occasionally, though, you will be faced with a choice which will have dire consequences. And it is in this moment that you must think carefully about what may follow. Make the wrong move and you have only yourself to blame.

No amount of regret can reverse the hands of time. No amount of tears or pain will undo that which has been done. So think twice – just think.

And just like that, I have lost it. In that briefest of moments, I have made the mistake which will end it.

Live by it.

Die with it.

People aren’t always the most open species. If a skunk feels threatened, it will release some horrid odour to warn off the threat. If a cat is angry, it will bear its claws and erect its tail. If a dog is happy, it will pant and wag its tail. If a human is any of these, it’s not always so easy to tell. Some will choose to express little to no emotion. Especially when it comes to negative ones. It’s always difficult to tell someone you’re upset because you don’t want to be a burden – or worse, bring them down with you. Similarly, it’s not always the most appropriate place to express anger – do you really want to be the one being gawped at as you rant and rave in the middle of the street, veins popping up all over your red face? So instead, we hold it all in. We bite our tongue and we fight back the tears because it’s unsightly.

But does that really benefit us? It’s only a matter of time before something tips you over and *pop* like the cork off a shaken bottle of champagne, and out it all pours. And who knows if there’s anyone around to clean you up at that time. So do yourself a favour. Do your friends a favour. And just let it out. Whenever you need to. Be happy! Be sad! Be angry! And be together! Thoughts are to be shared – a true friend will always listen.

and a whisper in my ear, you have me under.

I’m spellbound.

It’s crazy what people are willing to do for loved ones. In any other circumstance, with any other people, you would not even consider the things that come so naturally when love is involved – walk barefoot over hot coals; swim the seven seas. I may have slightly exaggerated with those two examples but what is undeniably true, is that the sky truly is the limit when it comes to pleasing the ones you love. It doesn’t even have to be for one who returns the affection.

Unrequited love is probably one of the most lethal situations to be in. Like all other types of love, you are looking through rose-tinted – seeing only the good in him, and censoring the bits you don’t want to see. It’s no wonder that psychologists call this the “Halo Effect”. Love makes him a saint and butter wouldn’t melt. The difference here is that this isn’t mutual. And that is where the problems begin.

Dance for Him, monkey

and His love for you must surely come.

Your heart tells you that there is a chance that this could work out; that given time and your efforts, he will come through and you can be together. Your mind, on the other hand, is bound and gagged from saying anything that might seem logical but that shines light on the ugliness of the situation. And so you heel at his feet, and answer to his every beck and call – like some leashed dog hoping for that treat. But it never comes. And your heart begins to bruise – torn between the hurt of rejection and the hope of reciprocation – until it breaks.

So, to those who long for the never, I say this: give yourself some dignity, stand up and dispel the curse before you fall into the abyss. Let it be you who shatters the dream, so that he may not. Don’t fool yourself into believing a fantasy.

And the Farmer will too -

gun locked and loaded.

Run, Rabbit, Run.

And your Heart will flutter -

mind pumped and ready.

Run, Rabbit, Run.

And the Race will go on -

feet nimble and agile.

Run, Rabbit, Run.

Or all will be lost -

no butterflies in your stomach;
no pretty lures and baits;
no attention;
no sight of the end (the beginning).

Run, Rabbit, Run.

Let the Chase begin.

Honey. Babe. Buttercup. Pumpkin. Cookie. Sweetie. Sweetheart. Sugar.

The list of endearments is infinitely long and all are sickly sweet or ridiculously lyrical. Everyone who is within earshot of the term (whichever it may be) is almost certainly going to have to check their gag reflex for fear of actual expulsion of their recently consumed meal. Only the one on the receiving end is oblivious to the complete and utter inappropriateness of the words in the situation. As you may have gathered, I’m not the biggest fan of PDA (Public Displays of Affection) and the use of endearments comes under that title. I’m not a total heartless prick though. I can just about accept “babe” in mixed company. “Babe”, yes; “baby”, no. It’s like, we already know you’re an item by your body language (from close proximity to holding hands, to everything but sexual intercourse on the streets). So we don’t need you to reiterate your point by then calling each other “cookie” or “sugarplum”. It’s just not necessary, and downright wrong.

Another annoying thing about endearments is that it is now more and more common to extend the usage outside of romantic relationships. I have been called “babe” and “hun” by complete strangers and the experience always leaves me feeling confused and rather angry. I am not your “baby”. Stop being so condescending you little queen, and just give me my drink! Argh! What is with all this over-friendliness and pretend familiarity? Why can’t we just return to the good ol’ days where we just beat each other up?