Mon, Oct. 9th, 2006, 11:21 am
Finally, Sloth found some tangled rope, and with Gluttony sitting down beside her, started to untangle it. Wrath and Pride positioned the mattress into place, sweating with exertion and fear. Time was running out.
Greed hopped on one foot then another, "Come on, come on..." as he is wont to do. Sloth, aggravated, offered one end to Greed while she tried untangling from the other end. Greed gathered some length and strung it past the opening, handing it to Wrath. Wrath tied it off to a doorknob. Pride leaned the mattress against the rope, and it stood upright.
While Wrath and Greed looped the rope back and forth across the outside of the mattress, cursing and struggling, Lust looked for something to wedge against the mattress and box spring so it would not fall inward. He pulled over a desk, but it was only a start...too light.
Envy was disassembling the bed frame, and came into the hallway with one of the long struts. "Get out of the way, let me prop this up against it." The bar held between the middle of the mattress and being stuck on the hallway carpet, but a good shove would dislodge it, easily.
Lust turned the table upside down and wedged it between the bar and the wall, fixing the bar in place. Perfect fit!
Gluttony piled on more items to wedge against the mattress, as he is wont to do.
After the hallway was filled to almost be impassable, most of the people back in the bedroom with no other escape but a second story window, Gluttony asked, "Now what?"
As he is wont to do.
Sun, Oct. 8th, 2006, 11:08 am
Seven people, in what seemed like a mass of arms and limbs that would break the frame, fell through the rickety door of the farmnhouse, then surged back against it, shutting the door tight. Wrath locked the door and stepped back, staring at the door as if it would burst open at any minute.
"The windows," Greed panted, "They'll just come through there. Up the stairs?" Without a nod of agreeance, the people tromped up the stairs. Wrath stormed into a bedroom and opened a window, making sure the outer walls themnselves were not climbable. Breathing a small sigh, he closed it again slowly and pulled the shades.
Pride looked at the stairwell. "We should block this up, then. Perhaps take whatever bulky things we can and just jam the hole." He pulled Greed into the bedroom and ordered him to lift the mattresses and slide them onto the stairway.
Sloth laughed. "You'll need some rope to hold it all up. Otherwise, you're just throwing things down the stairs. I'll go look for some." She opens up a closet and begins rummaging through it.
Wrath came out into the hallway with the box spring, grumbling, "What's the hold up?"
Fri, Oct. 6th, 2006, 09:20 am
Swarming in defense of their territory.
No, not the hive,
but their land close to the hive
as if anything that moves
could be anything that steals their food.
Removing that section of land from use
Putting mortal fear into those allergic
but still multiplying.
Stingers like tassels hang off me
skin swelling as blood rushes in
bringing with it antibodies
and fluids to wash the irritant away
I cannot breathe
My eyes have swollen shut
My ears are ringing
My heart rides a horse named Charley
Thu, Oct. 5th, 2006, 09:49 am
We have peace because it is better to survive and reproduce while getting along with people. The gene pool, in our species, is more important than our individual genes. This often results from a species too weak to survive on its own.
But now that we have seemingly conquered the world and eradicated many species harmful to us, our togetherness is no longer required. Yes, there are exceptions to this; we need each other to develop resistance to new diseases, for example. But for the most part, banding together provides no extra benefit unless you are poor. And most of us now are not poor.
We have become atomized, loners out of a lack of need for togetherness. Our laws break down not because of immorality, but because we do not need them. America is the culmination of our change so far - freedom from one another. As long as you do not infringe on others' freedoms, do what you want.
True, we may coalesce back into huddling masses if ever our prosperity and technological march becomes a retreat. Such apocalyptic scenarios are fictitious though. We, as a species, are evolving from homo erectus to homo unicus, "single man"; individual, atomic man. We show kindness to those from whom we can benefit. We shall become xenophobic in the extreme, even autist-like, as we entertain ourselves singly. Community is dead.
Wed, Oct. 4th, 2006, 03:34 pm
The pounding in her head increased, crawling upward from a bit of eyestrain to a sore forehead. She shuffled into the bathroom, swallowed two pills with a chaser of water, and looked at her face. It wasn't too pale, her eyes were not bloodshot. She looked fairly healthy excepting the grimace fixed on her face as she warded off the pain.
She tenderly laid herself down on her bed, closing her eyes. She brought her hands up to her eyes and rubbed them, then tried to focus on the ceiling. That alone hurt more, so she closed them again and took deep breaths, perhaps in some instinctive way becoming one with the headache. They would merge into oneness and journey to faraway lands in her mind, where she would snap back into consciousness, wickedly leaving her headache stranded in the ether. It was a nice thought, anyway.
The pain worsened. She could feel each heartbeat sending blood through her head. The pain pulsated with the blood. She moaned and beat her hand against her skull. "Go away!" she hissed, muscles taut. She turned on her side and curled up, instinctively protecting herself from the pain as if it were an outside force.
The pain increased. Her ears rang. She howled, but unfortunately she was alone today, so no one came to her rescue. Blood trickled out her nostril as the ringing in hear ears increased. Her heart accelerated and sweat beaded on her face and ran down her side from her armpits.
Finally, her brain shut off. She slumped back on the bed, face permanently contorted. The new corpse's heat still elevated, skin darkening and bubbling. Steam rose in the room as her moisture evaporated from her body. The bed sheets caught fire, and her dry body easily caught flame.
Tue, Oct. 3rd, 2006, 09:52 am
I got the shakes again. Looking in the mirror, shaving, just staring into my own eyes, my mind wanders. It's too early in the morning to be distracted by anything I do in my daily life. No newspaper for news, no politics, no music, no people, no pets, no beautiful view from my front door, just me staring at myself, a very finite creature. The pressure of being was maddening.
I drop my electric razor, my face half-shaven, and grip the counter in front of me. I bend down, almost looking frail and yell, "FUCK!" A few deep breaths later, I pick up the shaver and continue, forcing myself to think of the upcoming day.
Please, great world, keep distracting me.
Mon, Oct. 2nd, 2006, 09:45 am
All this talk about how a bullet could stop a zombie is pointless. Actually, zombies are driven by dark energy. Bullets will only discorporate their body, but the rest of them will keep crawling. Sever the head, the body will grab at you and the mouth will still bite. Cut a hand off, and that hand will walk toward you, Thing-like, and try to strangle you.
At what point the flesh is hacked up enough to stop trying to work its way toward you, I do not know.
Almost every day now, every day I am alone, I get the fear. The fear of being dead. Not death, mind you. Not impending doom. Dying is being alive. Every second of pain is a second of actually sensing the pain. To be put out of your misery, never to return, that is the real tragedy. To not be there, to not comprehend your absence, or anything at all. This is the abyss: not evil, not human nature, not some Lovecraftian horror. The abyss is nothing at all, including yourself. There is not even a reference point from which to observe the oblivion.
I begin to see the malaise with which early science-minded indivduals were cursed with. The 19th century proto-goths, morose with hopelessness and drowning in absinthe and opium, were the first to truly live knowing their end. The religious deny it, and those raised without the concept of eternity do not miss it, like those blind from birth do not miss color.
Mon, Mar. 20th, 2006, 04:20 pm
V for Vendetta
"The book was written 20 years ago" is the new "the 21st century starts in 2001".