Chopin and nature. Like a French-pressed cup of coffee and Swiss chocolate.
But was it nature that inspired this feast for the eyes? How did Chopin filter out the noise to create his masterpiece? Must I do the same?
I switch to Vivaldi, an upbeat piece known for it's nature qualities. The Four Seasons. Ahh...that's perfect. I sink into the hammock, the soft southern breeze cooling my hair as I rock gently back and forth. Lulled to sleep by a dead guy...
I wake up. This is all wrong. This can't be right. I'm missing something...
The song is over,...
Elspeth closed her eyes and desperately tried to focus on the frantic noises coming from her headphones. The general static briefly gave way to a hideously drawn out scream, followed by a voice she recognised as belonging to the captain of her unit.
"Fire at will! That is an order, sergeant! They're coming in!"
The note of panic was unmistakeable.
When Elspeth finally opened her eyes, she knew why. The sky was filled with terrible, shrieking pink wings, and every piece of air seemed to want to attack her. Summoning her last reserves of strength, she desperately raised her plasma...
She adjusted her headset and waited for the butterflies to move across the screen in 3D. They danced in front of her and then skittered away into the tall pines, Dany sighed as she heard the commentary coming through her headphones; "Buta Fliys existed until the 30th century when they were destroyed in the final neutron war along with all living creatures on earth. We recreate them for your pleasure and hope that this trailer will whet your appetite for our 3D calvalcade of the dead,
Just the facts, man.
That's how it works right? But sometimes facts aren't enough. I need more. I need more.
The pen quivers beneath my grasp, the words necessary to breathe life to this blank canvas escape me, forcing me to dig down into the unfrequented corners of my mind for wisdom, nuggets of truth, or inane ramblings...or all three.
Shoot. This bio is due in seven hours and here I am huddled in a cold basement awaiting inspiration, mind whirring at the speed of light with nothing in the way of progress visible on the horizon.
I begin to...
"I have something to tell you."
These are not words you want to hear from your girlfriend when you first walk in the door after a late night at work. Still, Lewis tried to stay calm, tried not to let his imagination get ahead of him. He sat down at the formica kitchen table, looking up at Sadie. She was actually wringing her hands. He thought that only happened in stories. A long pause...
"Well, honey? What is it? You're making me kind of nervous here."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just... Ok. Here goes. I'm... I'm a...
the colours were too bright and he couldn't make out what the picture was. Joe liked to go the the gallery on a Thursday night because they opened late and he could visit there after finishing his stint as a bike courier.He squinted at the painting in the modern art section and wondered if his bid to seem interesting by going to an art gallery would ever pay off. He spotted a sad- looking girl standing by the darkened window and debated what his opening gambit should be, most of the things he had tried on his previous visits had...
Sheila tsk-tsked as she massaged the Ben-Gay into Devin's shoulder. "I told you to leave the shuttlecock practice alone for a few weeks," she scolded.
"I was bored," protested Devin. "I'm an athlete; I can't just sit around all day poking at my Facebook. It's bad for the soul."
"Well," Sheila said, kneading the muscles, "you'll be totally off this shoulder for a few days now. You're lucky you don't need a cast." She stood up from the massage table, walking over to the microwave. Inside she'd heated up a herbal tea, and she removed it now and brought it...
The view was stunning. Marie drew deep, ragged breaths and looked out over the valley below. The climb had been ardous but definitely worth it. The music was coming to a cressiendo and she instincively lifted the headphones a little as the sound got too loud for her. She sighed and smiled. Life was ok. The adrenalin from the climb upp the hill had settled her mind and she was ok. Even though there was only an empty apartment waiting for her back in town she was going to be ok. Life went on, the world still held beauty even...
"What is it you have to do again?"
Richard pointed at the screen. "You have to get the butterflies to land on that tree."
"Which one, the one on the left?"
"No," he said, "the other one, the little one."
His son crossed his arms. "Dad, this game is so lame! I don't see how you could have played this thing. The graphics suck!"
"Hey, this is 16-bit resolution! You should have seen some of the old 8-bit side-scrolling games. The graphics on them were even worse, but they were all we had. And do you hear those sound effects?"...
Drudgery of the everyday. There's really nothing else to explain it. Banality of sadism. John, standing at the dump, Alka Seltzer pill wrapped in a piece of bologna for the birds. Has he ever thought what a bird might feel while its innards explode? That's not really the point. He wants to know if it can work. If he can leave a wake of destruction with nothing but everyday objects.
He watches the bird gulp down the bologna and retake flight. He sees it hesitate, and pop, it falls from the air, guts hanging out of its mouth.
Adam, working...