a frame to weave a story, on world building (1)

This is such a can of worms I’m about to open.

Every time world-buildings comes up, I’m perplexed. Where does one start? Do I have to pave the story’s road with cold hard matter, or do I start with (made-up) facts? Is it appropriate to leave it out and start with the smoke and mirror games right off the bat? Do I make up everything, do I invent the wheel? Do I use maps? Do I? Do you?

How much is too much?

How much is too little?

30st March

writing exercise, perfectly normal & mediocre

Morning coffee swapped for morning tea. I blinked.

First, it didn’t even register much. Blistering hot liquid was just the next best blistering hot liquid, the aftertaste made me do a double take.

I couldn’t have foreseen that turn of events. Really. One sip perfectly fine dark roasted wakey-wakey, and the next mouthfull it was peppermint tea. This was less than ideal. I needed my coffee. I wanted my coffee. The people around me needed me to have that morning coffee.

peter midnight

Part 1 - Wings of an Angel

The gulls make a ruckus. They are restless. News will arrive shortly, my mother used to say. God rest her poor soul.

No clouds hide the blue sky. Before the morning mass, I see the sails. They appear on the horizon like the wings of an angel. Bright. White. Impatiently expected. I’ve been waiting for this ship. Everything is going to be fine now. Thank God Almighty.  She will arrive at noon. I give out the orders to bring Captain Andersen to my office as soon as possible.

3Ts

1) talk

2) tears

3)  TIME

the template was destined to be wrong.

It took me decades to see why.

history of mistakes added up to delusion

alien failures became domestic madness

C-PTSD progress

I’ve been reading Pete Walker’s- C-PTSD from Surviving to Thriving, and some of his phrases really hit me. It clicked with me so hard, that I had a lucid dream about it.

As a surviver I try to find new meaning in my life, to listen to my heart more, and care less about others. I slowly un-learn my adaptations, and try not to be on the edge that often. It’s a process, really. Slow paces up the mountain, sometimes sliding back down. Patience. I tell myself, after all It’s been more than two decades of abuse, that can’t go away that easily.

war in a flowerpot

I’m sick at home, and I have a camera, and some pewter figures  – and I did a thing.

Genius Loci (Cílek) p.2 /p.1

Cinesthetic feasts

Bees of the Invisible – Awakening of a Place (Part 2)

By Václav Cílek

That time under Silbury I begun (for myself only) to compose the ‘pilgrim’s rules’. I finished them two years later amongst the Elbe sandstone, then forgot. Here they are – and they do not want to be taken too seriously, because the essence of a place, just as a human being and their essence, cannot be fitted into a single schemata.

The Rule of Home
A person is at home in a landscape, some people can encompass two or three landscapes, but no more. A small landmark of a place where we feel at home is more important than a more significant landmark of a different landscape. But despite that, we need to travel abroad – for comparison, for the recognition of the smallness of home, and the realisation of where we belong.

The Rule of…

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The Problem With Magic

The Problem with Magic Thank you, Mladen and WritertoWriters

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There is no such thing as magic.

Not anymore…

Real magic is extinct.

I watched it die.

I can’t remember when I saw the last trace of its nurturing light. Odd… Come to think of it, it’s nearly two thousand years. I remember Alexandria. Wait, no. No. That’s not right.

The last time I recall sensing magic was in the Middle Ages. It isn’t a good, nor a very successful one. It’s more of a petty attempt to hide money.  The man, in his third decade, speaks the words. A carney. Sloppy and slurred words, no meaning where it should be. He doesn’t know what he says.

tiger, burning… (3)

Part 1 - The Cold Mountain

Part 2- Tea with Jade and Tiger

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PART 3

MONKEY ON THE ROAD

The silhouette of San Chou gleams between the three green hills of the southern part of the Yellow River. Like a hungry locust reaches a rice paddy, I reach San Chou, five days after Jade, Tiger and I part at my father’s house. My father is Zhang Dee Yang, the most honored governor of Li Jiang. His high hopes are resting on my shoulders. Jade and Tiger, his friends come along to help me complete my mission.

thoughts on shuffle

There are places, which make me stop and think for a while.

A lot of these places are in Japan… I can’t say it’s just the small little streets and corners. Sometimes it’s a crowded place in Kyoto, or a nearly empty little street in Shibuya, a playground in Minami Nagareyama, a JR ferry in Hiroshima… They differ from each other so greatly, that I wonder if they are even on the same planet – which obviously they are.
Maybe it is a simple panic attack, or derealization experience I had…
Only, if it wasn’t for that deja-vu… 

I’ll be more precise.

The feeling they give me, makes me stop. Suddenly I have not enough breath in my lungs and my feet stretch to touch the core of the planet. A weird kind of buzzing fills the space between my ears…

I’ve been here before, haven’t I?