I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

Home | A Pleonexic Urge | The Root Of Motion | When The Candles Are Out | Love Songs To The Dead | Titans And Turncoats | This Lovers' Life We Lead | Prayers To A Ghost | Your Opening Eyes Nigh | The Enterprise Of The New Routine | Orphans And Demagogues | Nocturnal Emissions | The Fortune Of Failure | Transcension Beneath The Bitter Sun | Watching The Furnace Fire | Adventures Of The Crimson Enigma | Memoirs Of A Mercenary | My True History | I Never Knew Him | Midnight Rambling | From The Silence

The Season's Turn (Adventures Of The Golden Narcissus)

hello there. sorry i took so long replying. i don't know where i am half the time. oh, yeah i do, work. bloody place. all for a good cause, mind. and frankly, if they are willing to throw all this money at me then i won't say no. i'm by no means driven by money, but what does drive me requires some kind of pecuniary affluence. i best say now that in all probability i will be on here rather infrequently next week, if at all. i finally took on too much i think. hope the two of you are well. how is married life treating you both? i expect it's not that much different since you were both already together. that last statement could very show how little i know about life, or how much. you may wonder who i am talking to. well, i am talking to anyone who will listen. except you, madam, you're just here to pass the time, i know. and the passing of time is the pursuit of the idle mind. i know that too. something else i know is that writing relieves strain. and induces tiredness. and prevents something which i have forgotten in the time it took me to find my pencil. such is the way of the amnesiac. no, that's a bit strong; let's say retentionarily challenged. and in saying so we shall, or at least i shall, invent a new word. again. you have and maybe still are wondering what the title has to do with the content. nothing. it is actually the title of something i never got around to writing. and maybe never will. to be honest i haven't yet tried. i just thought of the title and assumed i could make something out of it. i think you have to think like that. incidentally, the reason for all the rambling that fills these pages is because i decided to write down everything i think of. a bizarre and in all probability, pointless exercise, but nevertheless one that quenches my need to write. i get those. overpowering needs to write something. something out of the ordinary. something that has never been written before. even if it just a few words; so long as i find a combination of words that satisfies the hunger then i can rest. and i mean rest, because when i get the urge to write then i get unsettled and irritated. my mood swings by the hour or more frequently even than that. an action which takes very little to catalyse. i saw my future when i was five years old. i was lying in hospital, on the very brink of existence. not the most cheerful of places as i recollect. not that i was scared. i didn't have the necessary powers of perception to know what in the slightest was happening. i do however remember one distinct and distant dream i had. and it occasioned my solitude more than once. time, of course plays no role in such proceedings, or as they were, preceedings. people often say how, when they have near death experiences, that their whole life flashes before them. since i was only five at the time i can only say that either nothing worthy of note happened in those years or that i blinked and missed the flash. what i do remember though is seeing what was to come. my future didn't so much flash as play in perfect colour before my eyes. every character was visible. the colour of their eyes. people whom i had never met but could now look forward to meeting, and have subsequently had the pleasure of. none of them knew me of course, but i recognised each of them. i was drawn to them. there were reasons for each. some of those reasons are yet to be revealed, but the most important ones have shown themselves in all their glory. glory it was. glory it still is. do they know their roles in my life, as i know it will turn out? do they know their significance to me? or to my destiny? does the one who will turn out to be the hero know their fate? they say time loves a hero, and indeed, father time will tell soon enough. and to see my future would mean i saw my end. my final curtain, if you will, and even if you won't. if i did then i don't recall it as well as i do the cast. that leads me to believe that either it was too far away as to present any need for such pondering, or it was too sudden to register. either way, i can honestly say that i am not afraid of death. i might be scared of how it will happen; of the physical act of perishing, but i can say with complete truthfulness, candour and, yes, veracity, that when i cease to be i will face whatever comes after this with a confidence and intrepidity as defies my current state. i know what is in store for me, see. i have seen that bit too. and i know i have nothing to fear. well i have one thing to fear. the one thing we should all fear. i don't think i need to say what. though i will say that the it is the source of my Úlan. you might not believe it to look at me but i do believe. i do have faith. i don't know if it has a name though. it is an understanding that i have pieced together from my earliest years formed by a simple principle of right and wrong. and what is more it requires no questioning. the usual one being why do i believe. i just do. i could think for eternity and not come up with a satisfactory answer so i don't try. i just believe. it is almost unanimously baseless and yet perfectly unshakeable. and that confuses people. i would think also that it would anger some people if they knew, that in this world where birth is only realised by death and where we constantly have to see to believe, that i can have such a faith. i don't need to see to believe. i already see because i believe.