An Idled Living
By Brandon Morales
Published 4/7/16
Idled Introduction
Many thoughts and mysteries came to mind while working on this piece of literature. I call it a piece of literature because I can’t call it a book. A book would imply it has a story with characters and it goes along with chapters which I do not have. Rather I have some paragraphs, stanzas, and scene directions. There is no apparent story. Whatever story you may find, it is to shroud my messages. This piece is more of an observation I have wanted to share with others but could not find a way to communicate.
Idled Pondering
Many thoughts and mysteries came to mind while working on this piece of literature. I call it a piece of literature because I can’t call it a book. A book would imply it has a story with characters and it goes along with chapters which I do not have. Rather I have some paragraphs, stanzas, and scene directions. There is no apparent story. Whatever story you may find, it is to shroud my messages. This piece is more of an observation I have wanted to share with others but could not find a way to communicate.
Idled Pondering
The pit pat of a spectre cat erects my ears.
I look but nothing is there.
Nothing as concrete as a brick beam school,
From which I exist.
Floor cracks and back cracks,
One in the same, both bring people shame.
I ponder,
If I am a spectre,
It is possible.
Bodies on a highway and no one views me like I view them.
Answer my ponder,
I ponder.
I look but nothing is there.
Nothing as concrete as a brick beam school,
From which I exist.
Floor cracks and back cracks,
One in the same, both bring people shame.
I ponder,
If I am a spectre,
It is possible.
Bodies on a highway and no one views me like I view them.
Answer my ponder,
I ponder.
How cryptic, a made up sound to initiate a response. Aware of its nonexistence but the mysterious scenery. Further details to back where the spectre is. A ghoul among ghouls, thinking about thinking-vexing.
Savagery felt for a desire,
How animalistic.
Waters in the mouth,
But not for grub,
Rather
For shapes.
Curves drawn by the divine pen,
But that’s against my religion.
Curves drawn by the biological pen,
But that’s against my religion.
How animalistic.
Waters in the mouth,
But not for grub,
Rather
For shapes.
Curves drawn by the divine pen,
But that’s against my religion.
Curves drawn by the biological pen,
But that’s against my religion.
Idled Thinking
Muffled words, idle talking, the growing, inexorable annoyance pulsing, constricting the brain. An inexplicable rage; at what? At the sounds! The sounds, the sounds provoking my rage, but why? Why! How can all this casual conversation amongst my peers make me feel this way? No one could guess what I am thinking, what I am feeling, how I am existing. Sitting, sitting alone, but with other people. They speak their minds while I breathe mine in, only adding to the exhausted pressure making my cranium feel like a blimp.
Muffled words, idle talking, the growing, inexorable annoyance pulsing, constricting the brain. An inexplicable rage; at what? At the sounds! The sounds, the sounds provoking my rage, but why? Why! How can all this casual conversation amongst my peers make me feel this way? No one could guess what I am thinking, what I am feeling, how I am existing. Sitting, sitting alone, but with other people. They speak their minds while I breathe mine in, only adding to the exhausted pressure making my cranium feel like a blimp.
I am,
On the border of another plane,
I wish
I could fly away.
But,
Is that a cliché I ponder?
On the border of another plane,
I wish
I could fly away.
But,
Is that a cliché I ponder?
Am I mad? Does anyone else flare up for no acceptable reason? To be claimed by such an emotion, a feeling, an action. My mood swayed by idled words. How could the interactions of other humans affect me so? A moment when you see your peers acting what you deem immature and the annoyance you feel afterwards; an annoyance that leads you to scold them of their immaturity. But why do you scold them? Is it because you want to be them? Is it because you want to feel as if you are above them? Either way you should come to question your own maturity because the unit of measure for maturity is through emotion. The emotions that display immaturity are also the emotions that elicit the scolding.
Nine-twenty, the rotation repeats. Our heliocentric model continues to rotate, even though most would like to believe it’s geocentric, and insects buzz. Footsteps and asteroid belts, the herd of sheep trot omnisciently, and aimlessly. How important is dust? How important are you?
Idled Talking
Our young hero attends his first period; Mr. Felix’s English class is minutes from beginning and Clyde Moore is conversing with his peers as usual.
Clyde: Hey Tim, three o’ clock; I’d hit.
Tim: Bruh! Same, they’re huge.
Clyde: They’re all out there too. It’s like she’s asking for it, but if she catches you looking, she’d get mad. Chicks is confusing.
Tim: I know bro.
[Enter Steph]
Steph: Ay guys, you do the homework?
Clyde: [Starts to laugh mockingly] what do I look like, a chump? Yeah, right.
[The scene goes dark, the curtain closes swiftly… Then the curtain opens slowly and a dark rustic basement is dimly illuminated. Chopped meat lays on the stained steel tables. It is impossible to identify which animal’s muscles they belong to. There is a door, outfitted with a myriad of dents, it is located in the left corner of the basement and it is chained shut. Suddenly and quickly a headsmen’s mask flashes through a barred opening in the top center of the door. Then the curtain closes and the show ends.]
[Exit Audience]
Idled Writing
Sit on a rainbow.
The screams that no one can hear.
The story not told.
Idled Sinning
The day rolled on and the next class came, the only thing in my mind. I sat, observing my bland surrounding only to be sparked by a few mildly interesting sights. In the corner on my formal prism was the arousing sight of a woman, unknowingly flaunting her assets. My body shuddered with a heated pulse, bringing a controllable urge of animalistic desire only to be broken by the hypnotizing ring of a virtual Notre Dame. My multitasking followed: walking and thinking, thinking and walking. Views, views everywhere, everything my eyes can see. Bodies walking, bodies talking, and couples locked by the face. My despair of the realization that I don’t have that; I want it. Melancholia infected me at the sight. I felt furious at the sight. How irrational, a desire leads to an urge to obliterate everything.
My arrival to the cafeteria is met with a joyous embrace. My most valued time of day where I can stuff myself with tasteless slop. I didn’t care, I was mindless and didn’t have to think of class. I didn’t have to think, what more could I ask for? Maybe not being at school, maybe staying in bed, maybe becoming a statue.
The theoretical fourth dimension is always increasing at a steady rate, and as it increases the time has come for me to return home. Solace in the peace that is my home. My family greets me and my sister asks me a favor, “Can you get me food? I’ll pay you back later.” My answer is a dark and stern, “No.” I retired to my room. I’d rather not spend my money on her, and I would only spend it on me. It was late and my favorite time of the day, a time when I get to log into my account to which I’ve worked restlessly to get achievements and masteries. A time where I was in control, even if it was virtually, I didn’t care. This account meant more to me than life itself. It was my addiction
Idled Art
Nine-twenty, the rotation repeats. Our heliocentric model continues to rotate, even though most would like to believe it’s geocentric, and insects buzz. Footsteps and asteroid belts, the herd of sheep trot omnisciently, and aimlessly. How important is dust? How important are you?
Idled Talking
Our young hero attends his first period; Mr. Felix’s English class is minutes from beginning and Clyde Moore is conversing with his peers as usual.
Clyde: Hey Tim, three o’ clock; I’d hit.
Tim: Bruh! Same, they’re huge.
Clyde: They’re all out there too. It’s like she’s asking for it, but if she catches you looking, she’d get mad. Chicks is confusing.
Tim: I know bro.
[Enter Steph]
Steph: Ay guys, you do the homework?
Clyde: [Starts to laugh mockingly] what do I look like, a chump? Yeah, right.
[The scene goes dark, the curtain closes swiftly… Then the curtain opens slowly and a dark rustic basement is dimly illuminated. Chopped meat lays on the stained steel tables. It is impossible to identify which animal’s muscles they belong to. There is a door, outfitted with a myriad of dents, it is located in the left corner of the basement and it is chained shut. Suddenly and quickly a headsmen’s mask flashes through a barred opening in the top center of the door. Then the curtain closes and the show ends.]
[Exit Audience]
Idled Writing
Sit on a rainbow.
The screams that no one can hear.
The story not told.
Idled Sinning
The day rolled on and the next class came, the only thing in my mind. I sat, observing my bland surrounding only to be sparked by a few mildly interesting sights. In the corner on my formal prism was the arousing sight of a woman, unknowingly flaunting her assets. My body shuddered with a heated pulse, bringing a controllable urge of animalistic desire only to be broken by the hypnotizing ring of a virtual Notre Dame. My multitasking followed: walking and thinking, thinking and walking. Views, views everywhere, everything my eyes can see. Bodies walking, bodies talking, and couples locked by the face. My despair of the realization that I don’t have that; I want it. Melancholia infected me at the sight. I felt furious at the sight. How irrational, a desire leads to an urge to obliterate everything.
My arrival to the cafeteria is met with a joyous embrace. My most valued time of day where I can stuff myself with tasteless slop. I didn’t care, I was mindless and didn’t have to think of class. I didn’t have to think, what more could I ask for? Maybe not being at school, maybe staying in bed, maybe becoming a statue.
The theoretical fourth dimension is always increasing at a steady rate, and as it increases the time has come for me to return home. Solace in the peace that is my home. My family greets me and my sister asks me a favor, “Can you get me food? I’ll pay you back later.” My answer is a dark and stern, “No.” I retired to my room. I’d rather not spend my money on her, and I would only spend it on me. It was late and my favorite time of the day, a time when I get to log into my account to which I’ve worked restlessly to get achievements and masteries. A time where I was in control, even if it was virtually, I didn’t care. This account meant more to me than life itself. It was my addiction
Idled Art
“I once knew a man,”
Said me.
But,
“Who am I?”
The author wrote.
“Who do you think you are?”
The poet sung.
“I am lines,”
The artist drew.
All men are a man,
And one man is right.
Said me.
But,
“Who am I?”
The author wrote.
“Who do you think you are?”
The poet sung.
“I am lines,”
The artist drew.
All men are a man,
And one man is right.
Idled Life
Right and wrong: what is right is wrong and what is wrong is right. Primitive minds are aware of this concept but truth is in between, rather opposite. Neither is right nor wrong. Life is a punishment, so it must be wrong and is the bane of right. If devils rule heaven and angels rule hell then I don’t care because I live to die, exist to disappear. Then ignorance is bliss rather than living.
Life is a disease that there is no cure for. You live to enjoy life’s greatest commodity; only to die at the end. Some come to terms with the disease, others think up interesting rituals to cure it. But they’re all wrong. Life is a disease, a thing, a story, and it begins and ends. The only thing that fluctuates is the span of the script.
Idled Death
The unknown is truly scary, for you don’t know if the unknown will help you or harm you. Instinctively we fear it because it is safer to assume it would harm us instead of helping us, as most would agree. We fear uncertainty, we fear death as it is uncertainty incarnate. But is it irrational to fear such an uncertainty when that is all it is? I do not presume to court death nor do I wish to exile it, I only come to question why it is feared and loved as it is only an event.
If death is not feared, it is loved. If death is not loved, it is seen as a disappointment, as we seek to achieve our goals in life. But when we are interrupted by death, we feel scorned by its choosing. What we cease to realize is death is not something new, rather it is one of the oldest concepts that everything comes to an end. And yet as a species we feel it has a consciousness that cares for the life of others, instead it is mindless; nothing more, nothing less.
Right and wrong: what is right is wrong and what is wrong is right. Primitive minds are aware of this concept but truth is in between, rather opposite. Neither is right nor wrong. Life is a punishment, so it must be wrong and is the bane of right. If devils rule heaven and angels rule hell then I don’t care because I live to die, exist to disappear. Then ignorance is bliss rather than living.
Life is a disease that there is no cure for. You live to enjoy life’s greatest commodity; only to die at the end. Some come to terms with the disease, others think up interesting rituals to cure it. But they’re all wrong. Life is a disease, a thing, a story, and it begins and ends. The only thing that fluctuates is the span of the script.
Idled Death
The unknown is truly scary, for you don’t know if the unknown will help you or harm you. Instinctively we fear it because it is safer to assume it would harm us instead of helping us, as most would agree. We fear uncertainty, we fear death as it is uncertainty incarnate. But is it irrational to fear such an uncertainty when that is all it is? I do not presume to court death nor do I wish to exile it, I only come to question why it is feared and loved as it is only an event.
If death is not feared, it is loved. If death is not loved, it is seen as a disappointment, as we seek to achieve our goals in life. But when we are interrupted by death, we feel scorned by its choosing. What we cease to realize is death is not something new, rather it is one of the oldest concepts that everything comes to an end. And yet as a species we feel it has a consciousness that cares for the life of others, instead it is mindless; nothing more, nothing less.