TimeAsylums
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For @Absurdity,
Preface:
People have been fed so much candy they are sick to their stomachs. Now bitter medicine and acid truths are needed.
[bIMGx=200]http://www.eldritchpress.org/myl/bela1.jpg[/bIMGx]
Part I:
Bela
I was walking back home from Fort Bragg. One had to go through the shitty parts of town to get to the military base. Fortunately for me, it was midday and thus the likelihood of me being robbed, gang-banged, and dismembered was decreased. Luckily for you, that means I can tell this story.
The scenery here was nothing spectacular to the senses. Trivial is as trivial does, perhaps.
On realizing I needed to excrete, I unzipped my American made blue jeans and create a grand canyon on the side of a road in the dirt.
Several paces behind me, a female ,wearing the oddest-shit I have yet seen to this day, stopped. This rather surprised me. Puffing at a small silver-inlaid Kabardian pipe, she was wearing an officer's coat without epaulets and a shaggy Circassian cap. She looked about twenty, her tan face showed a long relationship with the Caucasian sun. She had a firm step and vigorous appearance. I went up to her and gave her my salutations. She silently returned my greeting, blowing out an enormous cloud of smoke.
"You on a walk too?"
She nodded.
"It's nice weather, huh?"
"Damn, right."
"Want to walk together?"
"Sure, just don't try to hold my hand, I saw you piss on your hand a little."
I changed the topic "You live here long?"
She replied "Yep, ever since General Aleksey Yermolov was here."
We continued to walk together. The absurdity of the situation almost demanded we walk in a goose-step manner. It was quiet all around, so quiet that you could trace the flight of a mosquito by its buzz. A deep gorge yawned black to the left. Beyond it and ahead of us the dark blue mountain peaks wrinkled with gorges and gullies and topped by layers of snow loomed against the pale horizon that still retained the last glimmer of twilight. Stars began to twinkle in the dark sky, and, strangely enough, it seemed that they were far higher here than in our northern sky.
"You want to sleep over?" I questioned
"Sure, kid." She replied
"You must have had a whole lot of adventures?" I asked, with burning indifference.
"Aye, many indeed..."
"You want to make some more?" I asked coyly.
She yawned.
On hearing this I nearly lost hope. As we cuddled, she whispered into the air "My name is Bela."
Bela, she was beautiful: tall, slim, and her eyes as black as a gazelle's looked right into your soul.
We awoke the next sunrise:
"'Listen to me, sweet, kind Bela!" I continued. "You can see how I love you. I am ready to do anything to cheer you: I want you to be happy, and if you keep on grieving, I will die. Tell me, you will be more cheerful?" She thought for a moment, her black eyes searching my face, then smiled tenderly and nodded in agreement. I took her hand and began to persuade her to kiss him. But she resisted weakly and repeated over and over again: "Please, please, no, no." I became persistent; she trembled and began to sob. "I am your captive, your slave," she said, "and of course you can force me." And again there were tears.
My attitude had changed tower the poor girl, for I had begun to treat her cold, rarely showing her any affection. She began to waste away visibly, her face grew thin, and her eyes lost their glow.
We departed our separate ways five minutes later.
After this charade, I thought to myself:
A voice in the back of my mind spoke to me:
It is often said that when you leave a person physically, they are "dead" in a sense.
Those in the past, that I have now left, are dead to me, and I to them. Alive only in our separate existences and realities. The word "Bela" was soon a fleeting moment.
[bimgx=200]http://www.eldritchpress.org/myl/mm2a.jpg[/bimgx]
Part 2:
Things and things
I was of medium height. My erect, lithe figure and broad shoulders suggested a strong physique. I had aristocratic hands, and had slender white fingers. My walk was careless and indolent, and I didn't swing my arms - a sure sign of certain reticence of character. I am often told there is something childlike in my smile. However, it is said that my eyes are something else.
My eyes did not laugh when I did. It is said this is either a sign of evil nature or of deep constant sadness. They shone with a phosphorescent glow, if one may so put it, under half-closed eyelids. It was no reflection of spiritual warmth or fertile imagination. It was the flash of smooth steel, blinding but cold. My glance was brief, but piercing and oppressive - it had the effect of an indiscreet question, and might have seemed audacious had it not been so calmly casual.
In conclusion that, on the whole, I was handsome indeed and had one of those unusual faces that are particularly pleasing to society ladies.
"I've been bored stiff," I said to the empty universe, smiling.
It's sad to see a young man's finest hopes and dreams shattered, to see him lose the rosy illusions with which he viewed man's deeds and emotions, although there is still hope that he may exchange the old delusions for new ones no less transitory but also no less sweet.
I set out alone.
It can be said, somewhere along my journeys, I died. The "I" died. My avatar still here remains. The following is nothing but faded memories. I will take this time to say that your existential angst and despairs are of the most pitiful nature and is disgusting.
It is possible, many of you will say "This title is of wicked irony!"
But I don't know about that.
"Whence the wind blows, thence blows happiness." Such is the nature of human emotion. It matters not.
Once more a voice spoke to me
"You possess a rare sagacity."
On females:
It has always struck me as odd that I had never become the slave of the woman I loved. On the contrary, I've always acquired an invincible sway over their will and heart, without any effort on my part. Why is that? Was it because I've never particularly treasured anything and they've been afraid to let me slip out of their hands for a moment? Or was it the magnetic appeal of a strong personality? Or simply because I've never met a woman with enough strength of character?
The last of my faded memories are these:
"As a boy I was a dreamer and dwelt with loving care on the dark and radiant images traced by my restless eager fancy. And what did it bring? Weariness……And when I came into this real life I had lived it through already in my mind and found it boring and disgusting…"
"Everyone saw in my face evil traits that I didn’t possess. But they assumed I did, and so they developed. I was modest, and was accused of being deceitful, so I kept to myself. I had a strong sense of good and evil; instead of kindness I received nothing but insults, so I grew resentful. I was sullen, while other children were gay and talkative. I felt superior to them, and was set beneath them, so I became jealous. I was ready to love the whole world, but no one understood me, so I learned to hate. I spent my blighted youth in conflict with myself and my world. Fearing ridicule I hid my best feelings deep within me and there they died. I spoke the truth but no one believed me, so I took to deceit. Knowing the world and the mainspring of society I became adept at the art of living, Yet I saw that others were happy without that art, enjoying for nothing the advantages I’d worked so hard to gain"
I still remain,
x
Geroy nashego vremeni
a generation's vices in full bloom
condensed by yours truly
a generation's vices in full bloom
condensed by yours truly
Preface:
People have been fed so much candy they are sick to their stomachs. Now bitter medicine and acid truths are needed.
[bIMGx=200]http://www.eldritchpress.org/myl/bela1.jpg[/bIMGx]
Part I:
Bela
I was walking back home from Fort Bragg. One had to go through the shitty parts of town to get to the military base. Fortunately for me, it was midday and thus the likelihood of me being robbed, gang-banged, and dismembered was decreased. Luckily for you, that means I can tell this story.
The scenery here was nothing spectacular to the senses. Trivial is as trivial does, perhaps.
On realizing I needed to excrete, I unzipped my American made blue jeans and create a grand canyon on the side of a road in the dirt.
Several paces behind me, a female ,wearing the oddest-shit I have yet seen to this day, stopped. This rather surprised me. Puffing at a small silver-inlaid Kabardian pipe, she was wearing an officer's coat without epaulets and a shaggy Circassian cap. She looked about twenty, her tan face showed a long relationship with the Caucasian sun. She had a firm step and vigorous appearance. I went up to her and gave her my salutations. She silently returned my greeting, blowing out an enormous cloud of smoke.
"You on a walk too?"
She nodded.
"It's nice weather, huh?"
"Damn, right."
"Want to walk together?"
"Sure, just don't try to hold my hand, I saw you piss on your hand a little."
I changed the topic "You live here long?"
She replied "Yep, ever since General Aleksey Yermolov was here."
We continued to walk together. The absurdity of the situation almost demanded we walk in a goose-step manner. It was quiet all around, so quiet that you could trace the flight of a mosquito by its buzz. A deep gorge yawned black to the left. Beyond it and ahead of us the dark blue mountain peaks wrinkled with gorges and gullies and topped by layers of snow loomed against the pale horizon that still retained the last glimmer of twilight. Stars began to twinkle in the dark sky, and, strangely enough, it seemed that they were far higher here than in our northern sky.
"You want to sleep over?" I questioned
"Sure, kid." She replied
"You must have had a whole lot of adventures?" I asked, with burning indifference.
"Aye, many indeed..."
"You want to make some more?" I asked coyly.
She yawned.
On hearing this I nearly lost hope. As we cuddled, she whispered into the air "My name is Bela."
Bela, she was beautiful: tall, slim, and her eyes as black as a gazelle's looked right into your soul.
We awoke the next sunrise:
"'Listen to me, sweet, kind Bela!" I continued. "You can see how I love you. I am ready to do anything to cheer you: I want you to be happy, and if you keep on grieving, I will die. Tell me, you will be more cheerful?" She thought for a moment, her black eyes searching my face, then smiled tenderly and nodded in agreement. I took her hand and began to persuade her to kiss him. But she resisted weakly and repeated over and over again: "Please, please, no, no." I became persistent; she trembled and began to sob. "I am your captive, your slave," she said, "and of course you can force me." And again there were tears.
My attitude had changed tower the poor girl, for I had begun to treat her cold, rarely showing her any affection. She began to waste away visibly, her face grew thin, and her eyes lost their glow.
We departed our separate ways five minutes later.
After this charade, I thought to myself:
I know only that if I cause unhappiness to others I myself am no less unhappy. I realize this is poor consolation for them--but the fact remains that it's so. In my early youth after leaving my parents, I plunged into all the pleasures money could buy, and naturally these pleasures grew distasteful to me. Then I went into high society, but soon enough grew tired of it; I fell in love with beautiful society women and was loved by them, but their love only aggravated my imagination and vanity while my heart remained desolate . . . I began to read and to study, but wearied of learning too. I saw that neither fame nor happiness depended on it in the slightest, for the happiest people were the most ignorant, and fame was a matter of luck, to achieve which you only had to be clever. The ignorance and simplicity of the one are as boring as the coquetry of the other.
Only one thing is left for me, and that is to travel. As soon as possible I'll set out--not for Europe, God forbid--but for America, Arabia, India--and maybe I'll die somewhere on the road!
Only one thing is left for me, and that is to travel. As soon as possible I'll set out--not for Europe, God forbid--but for America, Arabia, India--and maybe I'll die somewhere on the road!
A voice in the back of my mind spoke to me:
"there are many who speak in the same way, and that most likely some of them are speaking the truth; but that disillusionment, having begun like all vogues in the upper strata of society, had descended to the lower, which wear it out, and that nowadays those who are really the most bored try hard to conceal that misfortune as if it were a vice."
It is often said that when you leave a person physically, they are "dead" in a sense.
Those in the past, that I have now left, are dead to me, and I to them. Alive only in our separate existences and realities. The word "Bela" was soon a fleeting moment.
[bimgx=200]http://www.eldritchpress.org/myl/mm2a.jpg[/bimgx]
Part 2:
Things and things
I was of medium height. My erect, lithe figure and broad shoulders suggested a strong physique. I had aristocratic hands, and had slender white fingers. My walk was careless and indolent, and I didn't swing my arms - a sure sign of certain reticence of character. I am often told there is something childlike in my smile. However, it is said that my eyes are something else.
My eyes did not laugh when I did. It is said this is either a sign of evil nature or of deep constant sadness. They shone with a phosphorescent glow, if one may so put it, under half-closed eyelids. It was no reflection of spiritual warmth or fertile imagination. It was the flash of smooth steel, blinding but cold. My glance was brief, but piercing and oppressive - it had the effect of an indiscreet question, and might have seemed audacious had it not been so calmly casual.
In conclusion that, on the whole, I was handsome indeed and had one of those unusual faces that are particularly pleasing to society ladies.
"I've been bored stiff," I said to the empty universe, smiling.
It's sad to see a young man's finest hopes and dreams shattered, to see him lose the rosy illusions with which he viewed man's deeds and emotions, although there is still hope that he may exchange the old delusions for new ones no less transitory but also no less sweet.
I set out alone.
[bIMGx=200]http://www.eldritchpress.org/myl/fatp.jpg[/bIMGx]
Fin
Fin
It can be said, somewhere along my journeys, I died. The "I" died. My avatar still here remains. The following is nothing but faded memories. I will take this time to say that your existential angst and despairs are of the most pitiful nature and is disgusting.
It is possible, many of you will say "This title is of wicked irony!"
But I don't know about that.
"Whence the wind blows, thence blows happiness." Such is the nature of human emotion. It matters not.
Once more a voice spoke to me
"You possess a rare sagacity."
On females:
It has always struck me as odd that I had never become the slave of the woman I loved. On the contrary, I've always acquired an invincible sway over their will and heart, without any effort on my part. Why is that? Was it because I've never particularly treasured anything and they've been afraid to let me slip out of their hands for a moment? Or was it the magnetic appeal of a strong personality? Or simply because I've never met a woman with enough strength of character?
The last of my faded memories are these:
"As a boy I was a dreamer and dwelt with loving care on the dark and radiant images traced by my restless eager fancy. And what did it bring? Weariness……And when I came into this real life I had lived it through already in my mind and found it boring and disgusting…"
"Everyone saw in my face evil traits that I didn’t possess. But they assumed I did, and so they developed. I was modest, and was accused of being deceitful, so I kept to myself. I had a strong sense of good and evil; instead of kindness I received nothing but insults, so I grew resentful. I was sullen, while other children were gay and talkative. I felt superior to them, and was set beneath them, so I became jealous. I was ready to love the whole world, but no one understood me, so I learned to hate. I spent my blighted youth in conflict with myself and my world. Fearing ridicule I hid my best feelings deep within me and there they died. I spoke the truth but no one believed me, so I took to deceit. Knowing the world and the mainspring of society I became adept at the art of living, Yet I saw that others were happy without that art, enjoying for nothing the advantages I’d worked so hard to gain"
I still remain,
x
[bIMGx=200]http://www.eldritchpress.org/myl/taman1.jpg[/bimgx]