

Chemical CultureTo be so in love with vague, abstract concepts raises some very interesting (entertaining?) questions about the mental approach we have as a culture to the inevitable questions life itself raises. Emotional reactions tied down to something that essentially exists only within our minds carry a similar, if not greater, strength than those which have a measurable, physical being. Can such things be measured in a physical way?Chemical Culture
To do so would be to imply a more chemical, as opposed to the more conventional non-corporeal spiritual existence for these things, in which case we are indeed little more than a complex chemical re


Writer Of FictionsI am a writer Writer of fictions I am the heart that you call home I've written pages Upon pages Trying to rid you from my bones The Decemberists The Engine DriverWriter Of Fictions
My pen leaves my paper for last time tonight, I've given all I can for now. I feel exhausted, pleasurably drained in the way that only a day of worthwhile hard work can make you feel. It's been a good 8 hours of building this unholy creation, give or take, and for the first time since beginning I feel as if I'm getting somewhere. Things are starting to develop quite nicely, the characters and locations, events and s


Chapter 3: Real MenThe Leech Diaries Chapter 3: Real MenChapter 3: Real Men
DO I cut a striking figure with my sleek black symbol of electronic affluence? Possibly, though the effect is undoubtedly ruined by the baby pink raspberry milkshake by my side. This mobile computer technology has proved to be something of a revelation for me, never again will I have to spend the best part of ½ an hour searching fruitlessly for pens or a piece of paper when the urge to write grabs me. Its something of an illusion though, this Devil-may-care yuppie image that laptops tend to promote. I got this wonderful device as a


Beginning with ExistentialismBeginning with existentialismBeginning with Existentialism
Does the belief of existence itself define existence, or is that belief more accurately an awareness of an external existence? Sartre seemed to believe the latter, coming to the (admittedly unassured) conclusion that consciousness cannot exist in its own right, that it must always be consciousness of something. The Being of an object is defined as the finality of its existence, but the precise nature of any respective objects Being is a matter of continual examination and debate. Is the Being merely the sum of its Phenomena, the various sensory perceptions into which our consciousness translates the


I Thought I Saw A SmileI whisper sweet nothings to you that carry over the beeps of your machine, every tear cries out I love you as I watch you sleep. The room is cold and sterile, the machine indifferent to you and me, but every beep proclaims that you live, wandering somewhere in deepest sleep. I feel the faint warmth of your fingers in my hand,I Thought I Saw A Smile
and caress the lines that run over your palm; writing your name yet one more time. In the corner sits the little bear that came with me on your birthday and never left, at bedtime he always hugs you but you can’t hug back, still we alway
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