nanowrimo 2010


Diary of a Blind Madman

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Chasms and house repair
Today's Lyric:
A flaming blade of the dark shadows struck the lands
with furious lightning it fell into the hands of man
And the ancient fire came down
down from the sky into the ground
Sword Chant

         Justin came by today (friend of a friend) and helped insulate the floor of the house. The place has been cold all winter so far and I think the plastic lining he put up will help the house a lot. There are a hundred things to be done to this house that will take me years to get to. If I could just win the lotto… (which is nonsense because I certainly wouldn't stay in this house and fix it up).

         Started the morning wickedly with steak, mashed potatoes and gravy. Lunch was bad for me too as we buried tostitos chips under rotel, hamburger, and mounds of cheese. Dinner was salsbury steak and a baked potato. I've been a baaaaaaaad boy. And about time, I say!

         My number of chess games is down from 10 simultaneous games to only 6. I am permitted as many as 20, but 10 seems to suit me most of the time. Why I've let the numbers fall is hard for me to say. I guess I prefer the slower pace of moving in 2 or 3 games each day instead of 6 or 7 (that being the rate at which people typically move).

         I've done no reading/listening of late. Why? Because I've been unable to summon the oomph to clean my desk and make space for the tape player. Is that pathetic? Don't answer, I know it is. I've got mail under there a month or so old. There may be the corpses of dead meals rotting under there. Something must be done eventually.

I was. I cannot describe it better to you. I felt I had some sort of body, but it was not visible to me and it was protean. When I turned my attention in what could not be accurately described as a direction, for there were no reference points by which I might determine in what fashion I had moved, the scene was ever the same. There was a blackness that was less dark than simply lightless. There were shots of brilliant blue-whiteness at times, like lightning or the arc of a spark. And there was a sullen redness like arteries of steaming blood trying to burst the shell of a blackened egg. I sought. I don't know that I moved, but I felt that I traversed the place, the void. I moved, if I did, at a tremendous pace. I felt that I was as fast as a thought, as fleet as my desire to move. I sought. How long I was there I cannot say. It might have been a moment, a day, or several ages of men. I finally did find something. It was a vertical line in the great distance. Before me? Below me? I am not sure. But I saw it. I thought it the horizon and turned moved until it was horizontal to me. Inconceivably fleet, I plunged at it and discovered it to be, not a line, but two parallel lines separated by a space that grew more and more enormous as I approached. It was a chasm. I think I plunged between its walls, traveling outrageous distances between them without encountering any form or change, just those smooth walls. At the end I gave up and reversed my movement, if movement it was. At length, or instantly, I emerged and traveled instead parallel between those walls above the gap. They remained perfectly parallel. I think they went on forever. I sought in both directions and never found any variation. I moved to one side of the great chasm in a direction I arbitrarily called North. I flashed forward for a day or for an aeon and found at last a whiteness beneath me. Here there was lightning. Huge bolts of jagged power flickered through… the atmosphere, the void? They struck nothing, not even each other. Each display was as though it was for the sole purpose of exhibiting itself and the power inherent in its grandiose enormity. I began to feel cold. I was not sure what the sensation was, not precisely, but cold best describes it. As I watched, a whiteness developed below me and below became a direction. I approached the whiteness and it seemed to me as though it was snow. It lay upon nothing, indeed may have been but a cloud, but it had weight. It was cold. It seemed purposeful in that it blanketed an area of … I know not what. I turned from it. I fled back toward the chasm and crossed that perfect line in all that is. Behind me the lightning flickered and clawed in my direction as though it regretted my departure. The snow piled upon itself and rolled as a wave after me. Far I traveled, and for long, I think, until I came upon, in darkness, a lake of sullen red. Like heated wine it was, vaporous, bubbling, cloying in its thickness and somehow evil in its aspect. I turned from this place too and returned to the chasm. Behind me the lake roiled and reared and pursued me as though claw me from the heights. In a flash, or a year, I was once again above the chasm and saw there a sight so terrible and magnificent that I cannot truly picture it now in my mind. On one side of the chasm, the snow piled itself high and trickled down into the bottomless void. As it did so, it approached the vivid, venomous red fluid that pumped itself over the other edge of the chasm. They met never, yet they interacted, the snow became mist and lugubrious bubbles of fluid. The red became black and crystalized, raining in shards and chips of lustrous beauty and coarse ugliness. I rested above this spot forever, or a day, and sought a name for the place. I have never found one.


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