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Cheese N Crackers 011
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-[ C H E E S E ' N ]-
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___|text file # 010|___-[ C R A C K E R S ]-______________!___________________
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* "foretold.txt REVISION" |`.
*______________________________________[ brian : 31st of October, 2002 c.e. ] *
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back when i was a part of iahb <http://www.iamhappyblue.com> (before i was
kicked off), i wrote a tfile that i thought was good at the time, but realized
it actually sucked. so, here, i have the original
<http://www.iamhappyblue.com/txt/0075.txt>, along with the revision. and since
this is the sort of dvd-equivalent of the file, i added the even earlier texts
that inspired me to write it.
so, without further adieu . . .
[[ THE ORIGINAL ]] :
.---------------------------------.
| 75# foretold.txt 03/19/01 |
| by cracker |
| childeater@hotmail.com |
`---------------------------------'
the sun was quietly burning my scalp as we walked down the street.
the planet to his moon:
"you are not yet alive. you live, yes, but
you live without feeling; you live without knowing the truth." i humbly
silenced myself and gazed past your face, trying to disclose my
inability to comprehend your words.
"you will one day find what has been seeking you for generations. it
will hit you with full force and you will neither know what to do
nor understand its presence, but you will know it is there for
you."
compliance blanketed your voice as we sat down on a bench.
the nocent sun played with the nape of my neck.
the moon to his planet:
"i understand, man, but why are you telling me this now? i don't
get it." i waited, expecting you to reply to my question. i had
the notion that you, dare i say it, wanted to reply. one. two.
three. four seconds. no answer.
your eyes stared hopefully into mine. you were trying to say
something through your gaze. pastures? meadows? what about
open fields?
i could not understand you.
"i'm sorry, i don't get it."
solar combustion:
you stood up, aged with wisdom and hope. you reached into your
pocket and presented to me an envelope.
as i eagerly, but apprehensively, opened the envelope, i saw,
through the corner of my eye, a dark piece of metal in your
grasp. i looked up. you were holding a revolver to your right
temple. one. my heart was fast; a car speeding through a tunnel
on a rainy night. two. the situation finally hit me; signals sent
throughout my body via my nerves. three. too late. you pulled
the trigger.
rebirth:
i pulled out a piece of paper and read it:
if it were this easy, it wouldn't be called life, now,
would it?
love ya,
X
as your body lay on the grass, i dropped to my knees, kissed
your hand, and walked out of your life. forever.
the sun is now mine.
[[ THE REVISION ]] :
The Solar System Foretold
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The sun was quietyl burning my scalp as we walked down the street. We stopped,
sat down on a rusty bench, and you began to speak:
THE PLANET TO HIS MOON:
"You are not yet alive. You live, yes, but you live without feeling; you
live without knowing the truth." I humbly silenced myself and gazed past
your face, trying to disclose my inability to comprehend your words.
"You will one day find what has been seeking you for generations. It will
hit you with full force and you will neither know what to do nor under-
stand its presence, but you will know it is there for you, and you'll be
forced to make a decision, which may end up costing you everything you
once believed true."
Complacence blanketed your voice as we sat down on a bench.
The nocent sun began playing with the nape of my neck, hinting for me to reply,
so, without hesitation, I did:
THE MOON TO HIS PLANET:
"I understand, man, but why are you telling me this now? I don't get it."
I waited, expecting you to reply to my question. I had the notion that
you, dare I say it, wanted to reply. One. Two. Three. Four seconds. No
answer. Your slumped body assumed the position of an angel falling from
the heavens.
As you forced yourself up, your eyes stared hopefully into mine. You were
trying to say something through gaze. Pastures? Meadows? What about open
fields?
"I'm sorry, I don't get it."
I felt intimidated, but, oddly enough, at ease with my position, realizing
we are different, despite what I tell myself all too often.
Looking antsy, you closed your eyes, tears welling up, then something startling
occured:
SOLAR COMBUSTION:
You stood up, aged with wisdom and hope and reached into your pocket, then
presented to me an envelope.
As I eagerly opened the seal, I saw, through the corner of my eye, a dark
shady block in your grasp. I looked up. You were holding a revolver to
your right temple, hands trembling and eyes glazed over. Trains of
thoughts broke through my mind and were left without brakes. One. My heart
was fast; a car speeding through a tunnel on a rainy, windy night. Two.
The situation finally hit me; signals sent through my body via the Central
Nervous System, first my brain, then my neck, my arms, down my spine and
finally throughout my legs. Three. Too late. You pulled the trigger.
Marvelously, the whole of existence didn't die with you; in fact, it rather
matured:
REBIRTH:
I pulled out the letter you presented to me earlier and read it:
if it were this easy, it wouldn't be called life, now, would it?
Love ya,
X
As your body lay on the grass, I dropped to my knees, kissed your hang,
and walked out of our life forever.
The sun is now mine and I refuse to make your mistakes my own.
[[ THE INSPIRATIONS ]] :
a long while back, i wrote these two files, cousins, basically, to each other.
i thought they were actually pretty dope at the time, but i was just a naive
kid, thinking he was the tish.
Changes
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Your time is wasted and you complain to me about how you
never did the things you always wanted to. You, not having
that one night of glory. You were talking, but I guess I
forgot what you were saying. So, I go and ask you why you
never took the chance. You say something about chasing dreams
too far. "But, no dreams are too far," I say, in bewilderment.
As you laugh at me, I sit and ponder. Anyone can catch dreams.
You tell me about reality. About the world. About life, and
about me. Funny thing is, you're right. Reaching for yet
another hit, you start to tell me about how you were never
gonna do bad things. Never gonna have sex before you were
married. Never gonna smoke pot or drink so much that you can't
walk well enough to stay on the sidewalk. You tell me how
people change. How I'll change. How the world will change. I
look at you once more. You aren't God. That's just a story. So,
who are you? My savior? No, you're my soul. But you know too
much. Seen too much stuff. "Just been around a while," you
tell me. Awakening me from my dreams, you stand up. I watch as
you tower over me. After your last puff, you walk out of my life.
Forever.
Prosthetic Life
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You sit there, telling me how you wanna live your life. How
you wanna have a wife and kid. I simply sit and laugh. You
were never the kind of guy to have someone you love. How can
you love when you don't even know what it is? You only learned
from movies. But that wasn't even love. Porno movies and
love; those just don't mix. Smoking your last blunt, you
start to tell me about dreams of being a somebody, being
famous. Funny how you get so caught up in yourself. I ask
you why you wanna be famous. You tell me something about
getting money. Getting money for what? Your next girlfriend?
Money doesn't buy love, kid. Money buys trouble and evil. Money
buys you a prosthetic life. Obviously your new life. You tell me
about flying. "Flying?" I ask. "Yeah, flying," you say, suave
as hell. I always looked at you and thought that you were
cool. Nonchalant about everything. I thought you had it all:
money, women, happiness. Once I looked past all that, I saw
your bleak, cynical soul. After the last sip of your drink--I
can't remember what it was, I think some Scottish rum--you
merely picked up a semi-automatic pistol and shot yourself in
the right temple of your head. As your body fell like a lifeless
doll to the floor, I watched as you flew away.
the first one sort of represents the PLANET (mentor) and the second sort of
represents the MOON (student).
_______________________________________________________________________________
http://www.bubblemonkey.org/cheesencrackers
cnc-011.txt written by brian
<brian@bubblemonkey.org>
copyright (c) 2002, your mom.
