27 June, 2010

and as in uffish thought...

What I was writing has accidentally been deleted. I pressed the mouse button one too many times. But perhaps it is better this way. For I spoke of nidotia and mythoti, explothrout of videmovida or ecoleurotions and wishodrams. And these things are beyond words - not for consumption until such a time as they are deemed ready. So with a hey, nonny nonny, I will just womit; wordspill upon here in the meantime. See what happens.

When will the shadows be cleansed?
By hopeless tide of wishless dread?
Who will make shudder the wind blown chime what will shake the hidden time?
Ha! Thou hast not heard!
And thou knowest not the things of which have been spoken!
Sit a while and hearken unto me, and I will tell thee of mighty deeds. Thy troubles cannot be solved by my hand, but unto thee my wisdom may I impart.

When a hero doth travel far, by and by his companion shall be meet.
A companion may not be worthy of a name, for he is hidden in the shadow of a mane.

What mane? I speak not of lions, my friend, but of other things of which there is not any word in any tongue that may describe it.
A challenge shall be given forth, that the hero must surely overcome or perish in its sight.
His companion in all likelihood shall trouble the hero's challenge and complicate his quest.
There shall be betrayal and intrigue, thwarting and scheming. Of these are there many variants.

Shall there be romance? Shall there be friendship? Unless the hero be unreal, relationships must tangle, tackle and conquer.
Patience is a virtue to many, but to wait over time, shall require thee a price. And the price may be too high to pay.

Better yet, take thy manuscript and hide it beneath thy bed or amidst the rubbish. Nay, better yet, take thee thy writing and here must thou burn it. For it is better for it to never see the light of day.
Wilt thou proclaim thy righteousness and thy power over the pen? But humble thyself and behave wisely, and a thing shall come at opportune time to steal the moonlight from the den.
Replace the cap. There, thou art. Let the sun shine forth in all its glory. Never mind, never mind.
What? Wast years of thy work? Ha! It is good.
Laugh. It is gone. Breathe the fresh air.
Now go thou forth and renew it. Create it, mould it, shape it.
Let it become. That is what thy imagination is for, is it not?
Then in the uffish stillness hear, the whispered breath of slippered year.
There. See how thou art skilled?

What? That Doctor? That raggedy man?
Nay, nay, my friend. Again, I say nay. He is fictitious; felicitous though he may seem. A dangerous notion, if ever there were any.
Blue box?
Yes, in the past. I saw it. Of course. I met him. A delightful fellow.
Because he is! My dear fellow, just because he chooses one in billions, doth not mean he shall take even the slightest notice of thee. Therefore he is fictitious, for in reality, he can never be, for he erased himself out of time and mind.
What art thou to thy fellows?
Unique? Surely. In time thou shalt see and understand.
The former is no more. The new is come.
You have seen it? Nay, thou hast not truly seen.
Come and I shall show it thee.
Now you see? Canst thou now understand my speech?

Yes, yes, bigger on the inside. Hurry on, we have places to go, things to see and an awful lot of running to do.
Yes, that was Jenny's line.
Accent? Well, I adopted it for you - thee, rather. See? Ha! I've been waiting for thee - you, all this time, so that we can get out of here.
Yes, yes, the key, the key! Honestly, you must be blind to have missed it, but then, humans on a whole are rather blind little creatures. They grope about in the dark and try to change the universe, but succeed in only making ripples. Little ripples. But one day that will change. So much potential, you lot.

Are you coming? Then hurry up and get a move on! Unless you'd rather be blown to smithereens. Come along!
Didn't I mention the hidden time before? Come on, you can't be that slow. Time machine. Yes! It's a time machine.
You are coming now, right? Good. Then let's gooooooooooo!

Imagine how God must see us. Puny little specks of dust, rolling in more dust.

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