8.01.2008
5.22.2008
Pretty Commonsensical™
So I was just reading this article and I thought you guys might find it interesting. I've heard before that stuff that's plugged in is always drawing power, even when it's "off" but I didn't know specifics like the fact that a computer that's "off" can potentially draw as much power as a refrigerator, or that a cell phone charger that's still plugged in draws almost as much power as if you were charging your phone.
Story's here, http://greenhome.huddler.com/wiki/how-to-reduce-vampire-power , if you're interested. I've been shutting off power strips when I don't use stuff for a while, but I'm gonna do even more now that I know this, save myself a little money. Apparently it's supposed to be good for the planet too or something like that, not really sure how that works but hey, two birds with one stone.
Later!
-loren
Story's here, http://greenhome.huddler.com/wiki/how-to-reduce-vampire-power , if you're interested. I've been shutting off power strips when I don't use stuff for a while, but I'm gonna do even more now that I know this, save myself a little money. Apparently it's supposed to be good for the planet too or something like that, not really sure how that works but hey, two birds with one stone.
Later!
-loren
5.16.2008
If God Had Intended For Man To Fly...
He'd have given him wings.
Well, it seems that the good Lord did see fit to give us wings, it just took a while for us to realize it.
For those of you too busy (see: lazy) to click the above link, a former fighter pilot by the name of Yves Rossy has built himself a Jetpack.
Yeah, a Jetpack. Don't believe me? Check it.
Well, it seems that the good Lord did see fit to give us wings, it just took a while for us to realize it.
For those of you too busy (see: lazy) to click the above link, a former fighter pilot by the name of Yves Rossy has built himself a Jetpack.
Yeah, a Jetpack. Don't believe me? Check it.
I just...wow. Um...wow. I mean COME ON! He can fly!
He
Can
Fly
If you're not giddy like a schoolgirl right now then there is something FREAKING wrong with you.
I mean, the guy is flying. I don't even know what else to say about this.
The future is here my friends, the Jetpack has arrived. Congratulations.
-loren
4.30.2008
The Show
So. I played at the Shell Beach Farmer's Market last Saturday (the 26th). It was only the second one they've had, they just started up two weeks ago. Let me just say that though I was glad for the opportunity and overall I'm still glad I played, the show was my worst ever. I've had bad shows before, and some were certainly worse for different reasons, I've made less money, had fewer people show up, been more disappointed in my performance, but this show...man. Everything (practically) that could go wrong, did.
I got there an hour early to setup (that's eight in the morning, since the market goes from 9 to 1). I figured it'd be cold since it's eight a.m. at the beach, but no, it was already at least seventy degrees, so I had to ditch the scarf, sweater, and finger-less gloves right when i got there. Also, no one was there. Booths started getting set up around 8:30 and people in charge got there even later. I of course remembered both of their names incorrectly, calling "Julie" Rebecca when we first met and referring to "David" as Adam. So, great first impression. My dad and I finally started to set up but the organizers hadn't fully figured out how exactly we'd be getting power, so we ended up having to wait for the lady with the bounce house to get there so we could mooch off of the generator she'd be bringing.
She showed up just before 9 and we plugged into her generator, but only after she voiced concerns as to whether or not it could withstand the amount of power we both required...So after soundcheck and difficulties with the sound system we were finally ready to start around 9:15. There weren't many people there yet but I figured it was early and there'd be sure to be more of them later. But no. I was wrong. There were never more than maybe, thirty people there at one time. Which isn't REALLY that big a deal, I once played at Frog 'n' Peach for an hour and a half for a group of five people plus Courtney and Katie. It still woulda been nice to have a little bigger of a crowd.
Well, let's see, about four songs in I was playing "Sound of Silence" and an old woman from across the way turned to me and mimed turning my volume down while grimacing. After the end of the song an old man (who I can only assume was her husband) came up to me and said "in honor of that last song, I'll give you this here dollar if you be quiet for ten minutes!" So basically, one old person said I was too loud and another came up and asked me to stop completely. I couldn't stop of course since I was being payed to play, but I did do a few quieter numbers until they left.
About ten minutes later I was just about to start in on another song when suddenly the sound system quit. My dad and I took a few seconds trying to figure out what was going on, when I noticed the bounce house out of the corner of my eye. It was collapsing. The combined wattage of our sound system and the bounce house had been just a tad too much for the generator to handle and it had crapped out about an hour into my set. So we hurried over to see if we could help, and amid the screams of little children panicking and their parents scrambling to save them from the quickly deflating castle, we managed to get the generator up and running again. I'm sure none of those children will ever enter a bounce house again.
So, to sum up, by this point in the day I've..........
made a fool of myself by forgetting EVERYONE's name
been standing in the hot sun for about two hours (with no sunscreen I might add)
been stressed out and rushing since everyone but me was late
been playing for primarily the vendors since almost no one is there
been asked not only to keep it down, but to actually stop playing by an elderly couple
been interrupted by a power outage in mid-song
been single-handedly responsible for traumatizing a dozen small children by collapsing their bouncy castle.
Kind of a mood killer!
But, we soldiered on and I went back up to play some more. After a few songs I was feeling better, especially after I played "Trapeze Swinger". A lot of people seemed to enjoy that one and a few stopped to listen. One such individual, an elderly gentleman with a beard and a great wisdom in his eyes, came up to me after the song to buy a cd. He started talking to me and asked if he could request a song off of the cd he'd just bought. I've had people recognize the covers before and request them so that didn't seem weird at all. Then as he's browsing the track list to find a song to request (he wasn't familiar with any of them) he suddenly turned a piercing gaze on me and asked "Loren, do you know Jesus?" I stuttered for a moment and almost said "no", since I thought he was talking about a song. Then he asked again and I proudly replied "Yes, yes I do." He seemed satisfied at this and went back to the track list.
But no. Now he started asking me about specific songs on the album and whether or not they were about... the Lord. I had to tell him that no, unfortunately none of the original songs on my album were about...the Lord. He then noticed 9 Crimes and asked if I'd play that (he assumed for some reason it would be about....the Lord) and I said yes, since it was the song I had been planning on playing next anyway. He continued to discuss spiritual matters with me for another ten minutes or so, so long that my dad had to put his iPod on the sound system to keep people entertained while I wasn't playing. After he'd given me instructions on which books to read while trying to write a song about the Lord, and how precisely to beg forgiveness after each and every sin, he settled back into the crowd to listen.
I played 9 Crimes and he talked to me for another five minutes or so after, and finally left the field. He'd told me his name was Joe, and I felt very glad that I'd be able to forget it now that he'd gone. I moved on with the show.
During my next song (I kid you not) an ant with wings landed on my cheek. Bugs had been all over us the whole day and I tried to get rid of it inconspicuously by shaking my head. This failed to dislodge the beastie however as he crawled closer to my eye. Now alarmed I briefly took my left hand off the guitar to brush him away (this is all mid-song, remember). Of course in my haste I failed to brush the creature off at all, instead pushing him into my eye. It was a bright day and I had sunglasses on, and thanks to my failed attempt at removing the insectoid intruder, a bug was millimeters away from my eyeball and had nowhere to fly. My instincts kicked in and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I had been just in time to stop the monster from reaching my delicate ball of eye, and I could now feel his cursed legs move and jitter as he crawled across my eyelid. How long he was there I do not know. By the songs end, he had departed, but he had left a shadow of terror upon my heart.
Oh, how I suffer for my art.
By now I'd been out there for about two hours with the sun beating down on my neck and I still had no sunscreen. I decided it was time for a water break and I went on a hunt for some protection from the sun's vile rays (side note, this is why I spend so much time inside and you should stop ridiculing me for it. The sun burns your flesh. Literally). Luckily David, one of the event coordinators, knew where to find some! I liberally lathered the lotion upon my already severely reddened skin. I knew that I would be in severe pain later in the day and for several days after, but I took solace in the fact that my body was now adequately armored against the fiendish light of the ultra violet spectrum.
It is now almost noon, the hottest part of a terribly hot day. The crowd has shifted to a younger audience in general though and I'm starting to feel a little better about things in general when my eyes fall upon a familiar face. One (Name removed for privacy purposes) and his wife and son happen to be browsing the very same farmer's market I'm playing at. Now, for those of you who don't know, (Name removed for privacy purposes) is my boss, the owner of (Company name excluded for legal reasons). Huzzah! Now don't get me wrong. The man is my employer and I'm very grateful to him, and he is not a bad person, and his family is lovely, but there are certain times when you would rather not see your boss. Saturdays, for instance, or when you're not in a good mood, or when you're out with your friends or family, or when you're currently at another job. Of course, today satisfied all of the aforementioned requirements. Just my luck I suppose. I introduced my dad to (Name removed for privacy purposes) and his family, after which the family departed, but (Name removed for privacy purposes) sat down to listen! Sigh. So I played "Mr. Nice Guy" and he applauded and purchased a cd and praised my flawless work and made a statement about his joyous anticipation at the prospect of seeing me once more at the beginning of the workweek. He left.
Well, that was fun. On with the show.
During the next song I spied a figure in the audience who was at once familiar and strange. It was John, the elderly genleman (see: religious fanatic) from earlier, except now he had on a biker's helmet and jacket. The back of course was emblazoned with the words "John Three Sixteen". After a song or two he came up to talk to me with the cd he purchased earlier in his hand. He returned the disc to the pile and though curious, I didn't mention it. "Oh hey, I didn't recognize you at first with the helmet" I said. "Yes," he replied, "My brother was here about twenty minutes ago and bought this cd from you." Confused, I said nothing. "My brother, looks just like me? Asked if you knew Jesus..." and he went on to recount the summary of our last conversation to me, in an effort to remind of the conversation I'd had with...his brother...(please understand, this is not a case of mistaken identity. The man claiming to be the brother of the man I'd spoken to before was in fact, the same person). After he was satisfied that I remembered "his brother" (see: him) from before, he gave me an assignment. "Remember that song you played, Loren? 9 Crimes? I want you to read John 9, and write a song about that. Just read the whole chapter and write a song." By this point, I was so confused and ready for him to leave that I agreed to whatever he said by dumbly nodding and trying to keep the look of utter consternation off of my face. "Well, if you do that for me, I'll give you this" and he pulled out a leather monogrammed carrying case with a crisp new 2-dollar bill in it. Yeah, a two. They're real. Just not very common. Or very impressive. I tried to refuse it, saying I couldn't be sure he'd be satisfied with my efforts, but he insisted, dropping it into my tips box and walking away.
He didn't leave immediately, but rather stayed in the crowd talking to another of his friends who had shown up. I don't know what they talked about but I heard him mention something about coming to the market to look for a singer for his band or something, and pointing at me :|
No John, I would not like to be in your band.
Moving on. At this point, I felt ready for anything, but little else actually happened. My friend and drummer Matt showed up to take pictures (add "photographer" to previous list of Matt's professions) as a favor to me and that was cool. It was about 12:30 now and I was pretty sure I could make it the last half hour without any major mishaps or meltdowns. Boy was I wrong.
So wrong.
The final act in this little comedy is really something special. The wind had started picking up about halfway through the show, and at first I was grateful for the cool breeze. It had been slowly building from a breeze to a downright gale however, and had already blown away some of my money (which was recovered) and even some cd's (also recovered)! Now though, it was even stronger. The vendors at this market all had large canopies on extendable legs to keep themselves, their wares, and their customers safe from the sun's harsh rays. One such canopy over a sandwich vendor was directly across the parkway from me, and incidentally directly in the path of the oncoming wind. The vendor had apparently not thought it necessary to anchor his canopy to the ground in any way (ten bucks if you can guess where this is going). Of course, in the middle of my cover of "Grey Room", the wind hit a new high and managed to actually lift the tent off of the ground and send it tumbling across the field directly towards me. I panicked, and my initial instinct was the same as during the bug attack, "the show must go on". By this point I had managed to get a crowd of about four people, and the noticed the flying tent in time to run up and grab it, but it was inexorable in it's advance, and their combined efforts proved too little to stop it. Growing more agitated, I still attempted to continue with the song, much like the musician's aboard the Titanic, playing soothing tones well into what they knew were there final moments. Although, you know, with less imminent death. I finally (after what felt like minutes, but was really more like ten seconds) stopped playing and pointed out the oncoming to my dad, who rushed over to help. They finally managed to get it under control, mere feet from myself and all of our sound equipment, myself, Matt, and several onlookers staring dumbly, not fully comprehending the events that had just unfolded. Matt, as I was later made to understand, had suffered a similar moment of indecision, torn between photographing the bizarre incident and rushing to help.
Once more, a bit difficult to get back "in the mood" and keep playing, but I persevered. It is hard to imagine even now, days after, how I found the strength to carry on amidst such adversity, but we humans are strange creatures, capable of unforgivable weakness and at the same time, unimaginable strength. The moral of the story is, well, I rock.
Of course, I'm joking about how awesome I am, but all of the events recounted in the above reading are one hundred percent true. Not even embellished, it's not necessary. Now I've got amusing anecdotes to share, and hopefully it will never be worse than that. I'm a little surprised, I must say, that none of my strings broke and that I did in fact get paid. I was pretty sure that after all the mishaps and in light of the fact that I forgot both of the organizer's names that I may have also heard wrong when they said they'd pay me, or that they'd just withhold it since I put on such a miserable show. But some things did end up going right, and all in all it was fun.
So, thanks for reading!
-loren
I got there an hour early to setup (that's eight in the morning, since the market goes from 9 to 1). I figured it'd be cold since it's eight a.m. at the beach, but no, it was already at least seventy degrees, so I had to ditch the scarf, sweater, and finger-less gloves right when i got there. Also, no one was there. Booths started getting set up around 8:30 and people in charge got there even later. I of course remembered both of their names incorrectly, calling "Julie" Rebecca when we first met and referring to "David" as Adam. So, great first impression. My dad and I finally started to set up but the organizers hadn't fully figured out how exactly we'd be getting power, so we ended up having to wait for the lady with the bounce house to get there so we could mooch off of the generator she'd be bringing.
She showed up just before 9 and we plugged into her generator, but only after she voiced concerns as to whether or not it could withstand the amount of power we both required...So after soundcheck and difficulties with the sound system we were finally ready to start around 9:15. There weren't many people there yet but I figured it was early and there'd be sure to be more of them later. But no. I was wrong. There were never more than maybe, thirty people there at one time. Which isn't REALLY that big a deal, I once played at Frog 'n' Peach for an hour and a half for a group of five people plus Courtney and Katie. It still woulda been nice to have a little bigger of a crowd.
Well, let's see, about four songs in I was playing "Sound of Silence" and an old woman from across the way turned to me and mimed turning my volume down while grimacing. After the end of the song an old man (who I can only assume was her husband) came up to me and said "in honor of that last song, I'll give you this here dollar if you be quiet for ten minutes!" So basically, one old person said I was too loud and another came up and asked me to stop completely. I couldn't stop of course since I was being payed to play, but I did do a few quieter numbers until they left.
About ten minutes later I was just about to start in on another song when suddenly the sound system quit. My dad and I took a few seconds trying to figure out what was going on, when I noticed the bounce house out of the corner of my eye. It was collapsing. The combined wattage of our sound system and the bounce house had been just a tad too much for the generator to handle and it had crapped out about an hour into my set. So we hurried over to see if we could help, and amid the screams of little children panicking and their parents scrambling to save them from the quickly deflating castle, we managed to get the generator up and running again. I'm sure none of those children will ever enter a bounce house again.
So, to sum up, by this point in the day I've..........
made a fool of myself by forgetting EVERYONE's name
been standing in the hot sun for about two hours (with no sunscreen I might add)
been stressed out and rushing since everyone but me was late
been playing for primarily the vendors since almost no one is there
been asked not only to keep it down, but to actually stop playing by an elderly couple
been interrupted by a power outage in mid-song
been single-handedly responsible for traumatizing a dozen small children by collapsing their bouncy castle.
Kind of a mood killer!
But, we soldiered on and I went back up to play some more. After a few songs I was feeling better, especially after I played "Trapeze Swinger". A lot of people seemed to enjoy that one and a few stopped to listen. One such individual, an elderly gentleman with a beard and a great wisdom in his eyes, came up to me after the song to buy a cd. He started talking to me and asked if he could request a song off of the cd he'd just bought. I've had people recognize the covers before and request them so that didn't seem weird at all. Then as he's browsing the track list to find a song to request (he wasn't familiar with any of them) he suddenly turned a piercing gaze on me and asked "Loren, do you know Jesus?" I stuttered for a moment and almost said "no", since I thought he was talking about a song. Then he asked again and I proudly replied "Yes, yes I do." He seemed satisfied at this and went back to the track list.
But no. Now he started asking me about specific songs on the album and whether or not they were about... the Lord. I had to tell him that no, unfortunately none of the original songs on my album were about...the Lord. He then noticed 9 Crimes and asked if I'd play that (he assumed for some reason it would be about....the Lord) and I said yes, since it was the song I had been planning on playing next anyway. He continued to discuss spiritual matters with me for another ten minutes or so, so long that my dad had to put his iPod on the sound system to keep people entertained while I wasn't playing. After he'd given me instructions on which books to read while trying to write a song about the Lord, and how precisely to beg forgiveness after each and every sin, he settled back into the crowd to listen.
I played 9 Crimes and he talked to me for another five minutes or so after, and finally left the field. He'd told me his name was Joe, and I felt very glad that I'd be able to forget it now that he'd gone. I moved on with the show.
During my next song (I kid you not) an ant with wings landed on my cheek. Bugs had been all over us the whole day and I tried to get rid of it inconspicuously by shaking my head. This failed to dislodge the beastie however as he crawled closer to my eye. Now alarmed I briefly took my left hand off the guitar to brush him away (this is all mid-song, remember). Of course in my haste I failed to brush the creature off at all, instead pushing him into my eye. It was a bright day and I had sunglasses on, and thanks to my failed attempt at removing the insectoid intruder, a bug was millimeters away from my eyeball and had nowhere to fly. My instincts kicked in and I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I had been just in time to stop the monster from reaching my delicate ball of eye, and I could now feel his cursed legs move and jitter as he crawled across my eyelid. How long he was there I do not know. By the songs end, he had departed, but he had left a shadow of terror upon my heart.
Oh, how I suffer for my art.
By now I'd been out there for about two hours with the sun beating down on my neck and I still had no sunscreen. I decided it was time for a water break and I went on a hunt for some protection from the sun's vile rays (side note, this is why I spend so much time inside and you should stop ridiculing me for it. The sun burns your flesh. Literally). Luckily David, one of the event coordinators, knew where to find some! I liberally lathered the lotion upon my already severely reddened skin. I knew that I would be in severe pain later in the day and for several days after, but I took solace in the fact that my body was now adequately armored against the fiendish light of the ultra violet spectrum.
It is now almost noon, the hottest part of a terribly hot day. The crowd has shifted to a younger audience in general though and I'm starting to feel a little better about things in general when my eyes fall upon a familiar face. One (Name removed for privacy purposes) and his wife and son happen to be browsing the very same farmer's market I'm playing at. Now, for those of you who don't know, (Name removed for privacy purposes) is my boss, the owner of (Company name excluded for legal reasons). Huzzah! Now don't get me wrong. The man is my employer and I'm very grateful to him, and he is not a bad person, and his family is lovely, but there are certain times when you would rather not see your boss. Saturdays, for instance, or when you're not in a good mood, or when you're out with your friends or family, or when you're currently at another job. Of course, today satisfied all of the aforementioned requirements. Just my luck I suppose. I introduced my dad to (Name removed for privacy purposes) and his family, after which the family departed, but (Name removed for privacy purposes) sat down to listen! Sigh. So I played "Mr. Nice Guy" and he applauded and purchased a cd and praised my flawless work and made a statement about his joyous anticipation at the prospect of seeing me once more at the beginning of the workweek. He left.
Well, that was fun. On with the show.
During the next song I spied a figure in the audience who was at once familiar and strange. It was John, the elderly genleman (see: religious fanatic) from earlier, except now he had on a biker's helmet and jacket. The back of course was emblazoned with the words "John Three Sixteen". After a song or two he came up to talk to me with the cd he purchased earlier in his hand. He returned the disc to the pile and though curious, I didn't mention it. "Oh hey, I didn't recognize you at first with the helmet" I said. "Yes," he replied, "My brother was here about twenty minutes ago and bought this cd from you." Confused, I said nothing. "My brother, looks just like me? Asked if you knew Jesus..." and he went on to recount the summary of our last conversation to me, in an effort to remind of the conversation I'd had with...his brother...(please understand, this is not a case of mistaken identity. The man claiming to be the brother of the man I'd spoken to before was in fact, the same person). After he was satisfied that I remembered "his brother" (see: him) from before, he gave me an assignment. "Remember that song you played, Loren? 9 Crimes? I want you to read John 9, and write a song about that. Just read the whole chapter and write a song." By this point, I was so confused and ready for him to leave that I agreed to whatever he said by dumbly nodding and trying to keep the look of utter consternation off of my face. "Well, if you do that for me, I'll give you this" and he pulled out a leather monogrammed carrying case with a crisp new 2-dollar bill in it. Yeah, a two. They're real. Just not very common. Or very impressive. I tried to refuse it, saying I couldn't be sure he'd be satisfied with my efforts, but he insisted, dropping it into my tips box and walking away.
He didn't leave immediately, but rather stayed in the crowd talking to another of his friends who had shown up. I don't know what they talked about but I heard him mention something about coming to the market to look for a singer for his band or something, and pointing at me :|
No John, I would not like to be in your band.
Moving on. At this point, I felt ready for anything, but little else actually happened. My friend and drummer Matt showed up to take pictures (add "photographer" to previous list of Matt's professions) as a favor to me and that was cool. It was about 12:30 now and I was pretty sure I could make it the last half hour without any major mishaps or meltdowns. Boy was I wrong.
So wrong.
The final act in this little comedy is really something special. The wind had started picking up about halfway through the show, and at first I was grateful for the cool breeze. It had been slowly building from a breeze to a downright gale however, and had already blown away some of my money (which was recovered) and even some cd's (also recovered)! Now though, it was even stronger. The vendors at this market all had large canopies on extendable legs to keep themselves, their wares, and their customers safe from the sun's harsh rays. One such canopy over a sandwich vendor was directly across the parkway from me, and incidentally directly in the path of the oncoming wind. The vendor had apparently not thought it necessary to anchor his canopy to the ground in any way (ten bucks if you can guess where this is going). Of course, in the middle of my cover of "Grey Room", the wind hit a new high and managed to actually lift the tent off of the ground and send it tumbling across the field directly towards me. I panicked, and my initial instinct was the same as during the bug attack, "the show must go on". By this point I had managed to get a crowd of about four people, and the noticed the flying tent in time to run up and grab it, but it was inexorable in it's advance, and their combined efforts proved too little to stop it. Growing more agitated, I still attempted to continue with the song, much like the musician's aboard the Titanic, playing soothing tones well into what they knew were there final moments. Although, you know, with less imminent death. I finally (after what felt like minutes, but was really more like ten seconds) stopped playing and pointed out the oncoming to my dad, who rushed over to help. They finally managed to get it under control, mere feet from myself and all of our sound equipment, myself, Matt, and several onlookers staring dumbly, not fully comprehending the events that had just unfolded. Matt, as I was later made to understand, had suffered a similar moment of indecision, torn between photographing the bizarre incident and rushing to help.
Once more, a bit difficult to get back "in the mood" and keep playing, but I persevered. It is hard to imagine even now, days after, how I found the strength to carry on amidst such adversity, but we humans are strange creatures, capable of unforgivable weakness and at the same time, unimaginable strength. The moral of the story is, well, I rock.
Of course, I'm joking about how awesome I am, but all of the events recounted in the above reading are one hundred percent true. Not even embellished, it's not necessary. Now I've got amusing anecdotes to share, and hopefully it will never be worse than that. I'm a little surprised, I must say, that none of my strings broke and that I did in fact get paid. I was pretty sure that after all the mishaps and in light of the fact that I forgot both of the organizer's names that I may have also heard wrong when they said they'd pay me, or that they'd just withhold it since I put on such a miserable show. But some things did end up going right, and all in all it was fun.
So, thanks for reading!
-loren
1.11.2008
Dreams and Nightmares Pt. 3
I am outside a large wooden building. It looks rustic, like a log cabin. The wood is stained dark brown, the building is large with a sloping roof. It is winter. The building is a hotel, it appears to be a mountain resort, though I don't see any snow.
I see a group of people walking in, they look happy. My love is there, but she is arm in arm with another man. He is short, with dark skin and curly dark hair. He looks youthful but not young. She doesn't see me. I walk in behind them.
His name is Colin.
My mom and dad are inside, they've broken up and are away on a weekend together against their will. I see my love and Colin walking up the wooden stairs together, presumably to their room. I call out to her, and she turns. Colin stops on the stairs and watches as my love greets me with a hug.
"Who is he?"
She is angered by my question. She tells me I am too untrusting, and that she needs to be able to spend time with her friends without me being jealous. We continue to fight. She leaves with Colin.
It is time for dinner. There is a common eating area. I sit with my friends and my parents. She sits with him, and after dinner they leave together. My parents decide over dinner to try the relationship again. They will spend the night together. I have nowhere to spend the night. Dinner ends, and I have won a door prize, a classic car waits for me outside. I grab a blanket and go outside to sleep in my prize. It is more a bunch of scrap metal with an engine than it is a car, but it will keep me warm.
I sleep.
When I wake, I find myself outdoors, sleeping on a mobile tray used in the kitchens. The hotel was real, but I dreamed that I received a car in a door prize. In reality I'm sleeping under a blanket on a used kitchen tray in the doorway of the hotel. The sound of patrons coming and going woke me. I am in my pajamas. I see my love and Colin come back from wherever they went. His hair now has bleached blonde tips.
I don't want to confront them in my current state, but I have no choice. She is not angry, she only seems tired. She will not give me a definite answer when I ask if she is choosing him over me, but she follows him back to his room after telling me we are over. I have no reason left to stay here.
I decide to leave.
My dad drove us here, but he tried to drive in the night and his truck was overturned on the icy roads. We have no car. We start to walk. The sky goes dark as clouds begin to gather overhead. They are moving in a way I've never seen, like something out of a movie. They churn and boil like a living thing, and they spread much too quickly. At first we are surprised, but not scared, then lightning strikes.
With it, come the monsters.
There is a large metallic creature with fists like hammers crushing cars and streetlights on the bridge ahead of us. People all around are slowly realizing what is happening, and they turn to run away screaming. Cars screech as they swerve around one another on the icy roads. There are large creatures all around, but they don't seem to be angry, not specifically targeting anyone. I feel insignificant, almost like an ant under the shoe of a playing child.
We find a motorbike and are able to start it without a key, but as we are about to leave an asian woman runs up and says that it belongs to her. We cannot steal it knowing we are condemning her to death, so we let her take it.
We are separated.
It's strange, I don't see anything being destroyed, but suddenly, all the buildings around me are partially destroyed or crumbling. Bodies fill the streets, and I see several people collapsed on the side of the road crying. Waiting for death.
The lady with the motorbike finds me and offers a ride, and we try to escape town. We are being chased now. The creatures do terrible things to the people who they don't immediately kill. I don't know what they do exactly, but there are people around us now who are choosing to take their own lives to prevent themselves being taken. We are in an alleyway, I ask the lady on the motorbike if we should just give up and kill ourselves rather than chance the hell that is capture. She mistakes this for a threat.
She abandons me.
I see a couple huddled in the alley just feet away from me. A young man and woman. They are sobbing, the man has a knife. There are explosions all around and sounds like voices, but not from this world. The woman looks into the man's eyes, and through the tears, he whispers.
"I'm sorry"
He slides the knife in between her ribs, hoping to hit a lung or her heart and save her the torture of our living hell. I am paralyzed as I watch. There is a noise and a bright light to my left. The young man and I both look to see the source of the light. I feel a strange feeling, hope, but mixed with awe and even terror. I don't know what I saw...because at that moment
I wake up.
I see a group of people walking in, they look happy. My love is there, but she is arm in arm with another man. He is short, with dark skin and curly dark hair. He looks youthful but not young. She doesn't see me. I walk in behind them.
His name is Colin.
My mom and dad are inside, they've broken up and are away on a weekend together against their will. I see my love and Colin walking up the wooden stairs together, presumably to their room. I call out to her, and she turns. Colin stops on the stairs and watches as my love greets me with a hug.
"Who is he?"
She is angered by my question. She tells me I am too untrusting, and that she needs to be able to spend time with her friends without me being jealous. We continue to fight. She leaves with Colin.
It is time for dinner. There is a common eating area. I sit with my friends and my parents. She sits with him, and after dinner they leave together. My parents decide over dinner to try the relationship again. They will spend the night together. I have nowhere to spend the night. Dinner ends, and I have won a door prize, a classic car waits for me outside. I grab a blanket and go outside to sleep in my prize. It is more a bunch of scrap metal with an engine than it is a car, but it will keep me warm.
I sleep.
When I wake, I find myself outdoors, sleeping on a mobile tray used in the kitchens. The hotel was real, but I dreamed that I received a car in a door prize. In reality I'm sleeping under a blanket on a used kitchen tray in the doorway of the hotel. The sound of patrons coming and going woke me. I am in my pajamas. I see my love and Colin come back from wherever they went. His hair now has bleached blonde tips.
I don't want to confront them in my current state, but I have no choice. She is not angry, she only seems tired. She will not give me a definite answer when I ask if she is choosing him over me, but she follows him back to his room after telling me we are over. I have no reason left to stay here.
I decide to leave.
My dad drove us here, but he tried to drive in the night and his truck was overturned on the icy roads. We have no car. We start to walk. The sky goes dark as clouds begin to gather overhead. They are moving in a way I've never seen, like something out of a movie. They churn and boil like a living thing, and they spread much too quickly. At first we are surprised, but not scared, then lightning strikes.
With it, come the monsters.
There is a large metallic creature with fists like hammers crushing cars and streetlights on the bridge ahead of us. People all around are slowly realizing what is happening, and they turn to run away screaming. Cars screech as they swerve around one another on the icy roads. There are large creatures all around, but they don't seem to be angry, not specifically targeting anyone. I feel insignificant, almost like an ant under the shoe of a playing child.
We find a motorbike and are able to start it without a key, but as we are about to leave an asian woman runs up and says that it belongs to her. We cannot steal it knowing we are condemning her to death, so we let her take it.
We are separated.
It's strange, I don't see anything being destroyed, but suddenly, all the buildings around me are partially destroyed or crumbling. Bodies fill the streets, and I see several people collapsed on the side of the road crying. Waiting for death.
The lady with the motorbike finds me and offers a ride, and we try to escape town. We are being chased now. The creatures do terrible things to the people who they don't immediately kill. I don't know what they do exactly, but there are people around us now who are choosing to take their own lives to prevent themselves being taken. We are in an alleyway, I ask the lady on the motorbike if we should just give up and kill ourselves rather than chance the hell that is capture. She mistakes this for a threat.
She abandons me.
I see a couple huddled in the alley just feet away from me. A young man and woman. They are sobbing, the man has a knife. There are explosions all around and sounds like voices, but not from this world. The woman looks into the man's eyes, and through the tears, he whispers.
"I'm sorry"
He slides the knife in between her ribs, hoping to hit a lung or her heart and save her the torture of our living hell. I am paralyzed as I watch. There is a noise and a bright light to my left. The young man and I both look to see the source of the light. I feel a strange feeling, hope, but mixed with awe and even terror. I don't know what I saw...because at that moment
I wake up.
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