Tag: fantasy
Interaction #2 — Part One
All right, ladies and gentlemen… For the consistant readers here at der Stonegauge, you may recall I had a little Interaction section a few months back where I posed some questions to everyone and they posed some questions back to me in response…
This is just an ongoing deal… I’ll post Five Quesitons here and your job is to answer those questions as best you can. On the next thread – you can pose me five questions of your own… but please note – I’ll delete any posts that are overly crude….
At any rate — Lets start this off…
- If music is the melody of life, what band do you think is setting the tempo?
- If you watch Sci-Fi / Fantasy movies, which Saga do you prefer more — Star Wars, The Matrix or Lord of The Rings?
- What is more important to you – your ambitions or love?
- Describe how you think George W. Bush is performing in office and why you draw that conclusion.
- In a deleted scene in Pulp Fiction Mia Wallace tells Vincent Vega that there are two types of people in thsi world: Elvis people and Beatles people. In your humble opinion, which one are you?
Misperceptions
I feel like right now every perception I have is false. I feel like every desire I have had is just a fantasy and that I am not allowed to truly experience them.
I feel like I’ve painted a picture of people and that they aren’t the true images of those people – the true images are an uglier color that doesn’t have a rosie meaning.
I can’t get rid of my misperceptions and only have torture of my soul when I see clearly.
Then again, my soul is a constant tortured mass that has been cursed by one power that be or another.
What have I done to deserve such a fate
I realize I have left it too late
And so it’s true, pride comes before a fall
I’m telling you so that you won’t lose all
The future is uncertain and the end always near
I will find no rest here. I heard her voice inside my head…. She said to me, even now, there is hope left, but I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope. My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing, and our people lose faith — Boromir (Sean Bean), Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
I’m not taking encouragement very well right now when people tell me that things will get better … And as much as I am trying to have faith that things will improve and they will fall where they are supposed to, I can’t keep it without evidence of something getting better for me instead of something staying pat or getting worse..
It hit me pretty bad at Andy’s place today. The place is a virtual construction zone and I only have compliments for what he is doing with the house… At the same time, it panged at me and hurt with the realization I couldn’t help him out with the house like I want to. The most I can do is stumble in and out because my body has failed me, even though there is will power left and a humbled soul inside me….
Even now there is hope left, but I cannot see it….
I can’t grip reality, only fantasy. I ought to see a shrink but then again they would only confirm things i already know about myself and give me solutions that I have already heard and thought of and probably try to put me on drugs to cure me with more chemicals… Which I wouldn’t want. I don’t want to fake my way to feeling better. I want to achieve it with things improving…. And yet when I think of how to achieve it, the dream is what I set as a benchmark… Which isn’t realistic and yet it’s what I want…
I don’t know if I am screwed up in the head or someone that should be applauded for holding on to their wants and not compromising…. Yet my wants are compromised by the fact that maybe God didn’t plan it the way I was hoping he did — or that it will only fall that way with time…
I could close this with the “it is long since we had any hope” but that wouldn’t be the truth…
Finito — Assignment 1 returned
Well, my first Long Ridge Writers Group was returned to me by Lou Fisher and the response was pretty admirable — for 500 words. Now I get to seriously start looking at my next assignment of 750-1000 words and I sort of shudder right now because I just can’t focus properly on it. Oh, I can write 1000 words on someone or a situation but it doesn’t exactly fit my assignment parameters of writing a situation up. Got to find discipline. Got to make it interesting.
Meanwhile I wrote another story that fit inside these parameters and mimicked just how I was feeling this morning. The problem was that this story is utterly depressing and involves a guy sitting on a bench with a gun in his hand, contemplating his end.. Depressing but it all ends up as a good piece of writing. Unfortunately it’s too autobiographical in a fantasy sense to really make me feel good but it came out cleanly and for a time it made me feel better.
Writings been an escape. An escape that doesn’t last but an escape none the less. Be it good poetry, be it these journal entries, be it short stories, be it instant message conversations with someone who can hold a conversation – it’s escape. Ray Bradbury put it great when he stated that you have to stay drunk on writing or else the rest of the world will destroy you. By investing yourself in your writing you immerse yourself in another world – you get out your own feelings, your own aggravations, your own fantasies and purge yourself of what has been hanging over you.
Of course that doesn’t solve problems of wanting a friend to comprehend what they did and how it isn’t as acceptable as they perceive it. *Sigh* I hate the phrase, “What goes around comes around” but that’s the only thing that gives me peace of mind over things. Sure my heart may mend in the future and I might be able to talk with this friend again but at the same time — the preferable way for things to be fixed is understanding/comprehension and not such selfishness. “I need this, I needed that. I wanted that.. I have to find a way around that.” It’s Erie when someone makes it that way. It’s Erie when someone assumes three weeks is supposed to be enough time for someone to get over a broken heart they helped destroy.
Disappearing Act / There Ain't No Comin' Back
Yes, I am back. Johnny boy went on hiatus but I didn’t leave you guys flat. Could you imagine me doing that? Never!
Had to take apart my computer and desk in general because the new one was set to arrive yesterday (it did — late) and I needed to just store everything in general because I couldn’t very well have both desks set up at once in this room. Impossible.
The new desk is nice — everything is so CENTRALIZED instead of being spread out on two seperate desks, it is awesome in that way! Though the color is sort of dull because it’s only one tone, it’s better than the pieces of crap I had been using as my desk. Now I have my Phone, my printer, my scanner — all on one desk. If I could find a place for my speakers, I’d have it made!
Anyway, just a short update for the sake of keeping it — well, short. I leave you all with my newest pissed off anthem that I penned weeks ago. It’s been availible on the web for a while (what site, I won’t say) but now I am officially releasing it to the world… To every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction – even if you can’t comprehend it.
There ain’t no comin’ back
There ain’t no comin’ back
Find my worth’s reduced to zero
Feelin’ less than a fuckin’ hero
Her silence tells the total tale
And there ain’t no goin’ back
There ain’t no goin’ back
Tore me down for the wreck I was
Ripped my soul without a pause
Singed my heart for a fucking cause
Chained me to your iron bars
You check to see that I’m “OK”
Wanting you in the baddest way
Now your crimes take away the day
Anything you say
Anything you say
Picked the lock and forged the key
Blessed by silent misery
Dwelt on pain and lost my way
Yet found some sun to stop the rain
The key to song is melody
The key to story is fantasy
The key to the soul is through the mind
The key to your panties is too much wine
You called me up the other day
Crying sorrows and whining pain
Tried to reach with a bit of tact
But hell, my dear, you’ve forgot a fact
You pissed on us and tossed away
Spit on memories every day
Shit on me and screwed the pooch
Wake up, honey! You were bound to lose!
So listen close to this lessons end
Your actions are nothing that you can defend
Don’t try to get me back on your track
‘Cause there ain’t no comin’ back
There ain’t no comin’ back
© 2003 John P. Fontana
No true entry because this old poem sums things up…
What Am I….
What am I supposed to do?
Just call her name
And get off the train –
Loneliness
Southbound
Cartoon Express
A fixture through the mess –
Her face, and my memory there of
And the desires unquenched
As the fifth Beatle
Who has never crossed Abby Road
Artfully dodging –
Responsibilities
That take place in love:
Speak
Feel
Express
Not repress
To me It’s all a fantasy
Like a child going through a toy chest
© 1997 John P. Fontana
