Now it makes a tiny bit more sense!

(This is when Christopher and Stoya actually meet.)

Neige Rouge

"I'll never say that I won't ever make you cry." - Liam Gallagher


I get up and figure noon is as good a time as any to run a check on this plate. I get the address and head over there. The place is huge! Who ever tis girl is, she must have cash coming out her ears. Two massive guys guard the entrance. She must have more clout that I thought. Nothing ventured nothing gained. “Excuse me gentlemen I- ”
“Please come in”. A creepy foreign voice beckons me into the shadows, I gotta follow it.
“Excuse me? Ma’am?”
“No need for formality here leibchen, though I do appreciate a gentleman vhenever there is vun to be found. Vhat can I for you you?”
“Um, I’m looking for a woman.”
“Everyone who comes in here is looking for a voman. Vhat kind of voman?”
I’m in a brothel!?! “Um, a specific one, with dark hair and very pale skin. Iridescent blue eyes. Delicate.”
“Ah! You must have seen Stoya! She is only just returning from an appointment. Another girl perhaps?”
“I’d like her please Ma’am.”
“Then vould Herr..?
“Matthews.”
“Vould Herr Matthews care to vait vhile she freshens up? I can send her to you if you like?”
“I’ll just take a room here if that’s alright.”
“Very vell. I trust you are familiar vith the rather steep fees vee have at our establishment?”
“I am. Is credit card ok?”
“Ya, that is just fine. But you pay after. That is company policy vith first-timers. Vee must make sure you are enjoying yourself no? Haha! A drink for you first Herr Matthews?”
“Please. Whiskey, on the rocks. I didn’t get your name by the way ma’am.”
“You can call me Frau Berhardt, leibchen.”
“Ok. Thanks for the drink.” I wonder if the cost of this ‘visit’ is gonna be worth the info. I might be a lawyer but I haven’t got that kinda cash.
“She’ll be ready for you in half an hour.”
“Thank you.”

HALF AN HOUR LATER

I’m waiting in one of their standard suites. She walks in timidly
“Good evening Mr. Matthews.”
“Good evening.”
“So you’re the lawyer?”
“I am.”
“Please help me?!”
“What?”
“I can’t keep doing this! I saw my sister hang herself. I’m so scared I won’t survive this. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up. You must have some way to help me out of this horrible place?”
She burries hers face in my chest and sobs quietly for a minute. Poor dame. “I’ll do my best to get you out of here. Come on.” I use my cellular phone to call a taxi and we make our escape out the window. We stay in the shadows and make it to the taxi.
“Do you have anywhere you can go?”
“Not yet, but I’ll figure it out.”
“You can stay at mine tonight, I know some people, they can get you out of the area and to a safe place.”
“Thank you, you don’t know what this means to me.”
“Just relax. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

We get to my apartment and Dinah isn’t happy to see she has competition. The girl collapses into my arms, shaking.
“How about a drink?”
“I’d love one. Scotch if you have any?”
“Here.” She gulps it down and stares at the glass. The ice clinks in the glass from her trembling.
“Thank you, you’ve been so good to me.”
“I can’t stand to see a dame cry and not do anything about it.”
“You’re still very sweet.”
“You can take my bed tonight. I’ll bunk on the couch.”
“No, please, you’ve done enough already. You know if she finds you you’ll wind up a trophy on her wall. She collects human skins…” She begins to sob again and I put my arms around her. She finally raises her head and looks at me. I can’t stand those eyes. They break me in a million places and I have to look away. She takes my head in her hands and kisses me. Shyly, like a nervous, adolescent first kiss. I kiss her back, almost as shy.

TOMORROW

The sunlight through the drapes blinds me as I attempt to open my eyes. “Stoya?” She is no where to be found. The only thing I can find of hers is the lipstick she left on the glass… There! On the bathroom mirror. A little pink note.

“Dear Christopher,
I hope you had as much fun as I did last night. Your cat is very cute but she doesn’t seem to like me too much. I hope we will meet each other again soon. If you need to find me, you know where I am. Come up and see me some time.

Stoya.
xxx”

It was all an act. She played me like a chump and I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Those eyes will haunt me forever! I didn’t even ask her what I came to find out. “Well Dinah, that’s what I get for trying to be a hero. I’ll stick to the law.”
“Meow?”
“Right, breakfast. How do you want your eggs?”

This is a random chapter that I really wanna use but so far has no context.

Neige Rouge


(This is a conversation between Stoya and a lawyer that follows her after one of her meetings with Marshal Carver. They enter a relationship and things go sour. This conversation occurs many months later after their initial meeting.)

"There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness." - Tim Freidman.


Christopher:

The city is freezing in July. Standing on the roof together we look at it's cold, bleak streets, I put my arm around her to stop the shivering.

S: “Some times I think you’re the only one who really knows me.”

C: “Maybe I am. All I know is that I’ve loved you since that night and I haven’t stopped. I won’t stop.”

S: “You will if you ever end up with me.”

C: “No I won’t. Think of the men that have been with you. How many loved you? How many
wanted to share their lives with you?”

S: “Five out of six…but only three out of the five wanted to share their lives with me.”

C: “What does that say about you?”

S: “I hurt the people that give me their hearts.”

C: “You inspire people to give you their hearts in the first place.”

S: “I shouldn’t be allowed to date.”

C: “If anything, there should be more women like you. There aren’t many people that are as understanding as you of so much. That is the common ground that all humans stand on. The desire to just be understood for who they are. That is the battle. You’re the only one that seems to diminish the need to fight.”

S: “What good is it if they all want to be with you when you’re bound to one person. It just hurts them more. You more than anyone should know that. God how I reproach myself for letting you get close to me. I’m like a viper disguised as a kitten.”

C: “You’re being a little harsh.”

S: “I’m being accurate.” I pull her close, so that we’re almost touching.

C: “Being in love is one of the most painful feelings in the world.”

S: “I’m sorry.”

C: “You didn’t let me finish. Being in love is one of the most painful things in the world. But at the same time it’s great to have something in your life that makes you feel so much at once you feel like you’re the luckiest person.”

S: “That’s such a load of shit.”

C: “It’s not. You know it. You know how much love hurts. I’ve seen it hurt you. Do you wish it were different?”

S: “No. I told you: it is futile to regret.”

C: “You have to take steps. Little ones.”

S: “Why won’t anyone just let me sit alone in myself, why do you all need me so much? Why do you need me at all? You and everyone else tells me, till you’re blue in the face that I’m special. How? Where? Show me?! You give me all these reasons as to why but they’re tired and they’re crap! Why honestly?! What’s the real reason you need me?”

C: “I’ve told you already. What do you want to hear?”

S: “Shut up. All I want to hear is “I don’t love you” and “you’re not special”.”

C: “I’m not going to lie to you.”

S: “Isn’t that what people do when they’re in love?”

C: “Stop mocking love.”

S: “Why? It makes a mockery of us, of our rationality. Why not mock it?”

C: “Because it’s the only reason everyone isn’t killing everyone else.”

S: “Bollocks. The only reason we don’t kill one another is because of dependence and you know it.”

C: “I thought I was meant to be the pessimist.”

S: “You are. I’m a realist.”

C: “I thought you were the optimist?”

S: “Only on the outside.”

C: “So you’re faking it?”

S: “Not at all. I really do believe the world isn’t so fucking horrid.”

C: “When there are people like you in it I’m sure it can’t be all horrible.”

S: “But you see, that’s just bias. I should think that I make the world that much worse.”

C: “Oh?”

S: “Indeed. Like T.H White said “Life is such unutterable hell, solely because it is sometimes beautiful. if we could only be miserable all the time, if there could be no such things as love or beauty or faith or hope, if I could be absolutely certain that my love would never been returned: how much more simple life would be”.”

C: “I told you that quote when we first met.”

S: “And it has stayed with me since.”

C: “I want you.”

S: “So do they.”

C: “Not as much as I do. I’ve stuck by you through whatever.”

S: “And I’ve abandoned you.”

C: “But you came back.”

S: “And left again.”

C: “Stop this!”

S: “You stop it. We’re so estranged. I don’t know how we can even stay friends.”

C: “What’s left of Europe…the dream.”

S: “You abandoned it!”

C: “Because I thought I’d lost you.”

S: “You could never lose me Christopher. I’ll always be here.”

C: “Always and never.”

S: “No. Always. I promise.”

C: “You keep making the same promise and breaking it.”

S: “So does that not prove my case?”

C: “No.”

S: “Why the hell not?”

C: “Because even though not being with you is the cause of my misery, not having you in my life at all would be complete devastation.”

S: “I promise I’ll always be a part of your life Christopher. But could you really stand it?”

C: “I’m sure I’ll get past it eventually, but for now, let’s just stare at the city.”

S: “Like we used to.”

C: “Like we always will.”

S: “Promise?”

I look her directly in those beautiful, glassy eyes. “Yes.”

Here is the follow up to the last chapter. Desperately need an artist now guys!

Neige Rouge

"You bleed just to know you're alive" - John Rzeznik

Stoya:


Oh Clarisse… we came to this place together. I’d always hoped we’d leave together. Earn our freedom from this hole. But when I think about it, we’ve earned our freedom ten times over at least. It isn’t about freedom anymore. It’s about survival. I knew she wasn’t strong enough. I’m sure there was something I could have done. But I will kill that pig for tormenting her. After every appointment she would come home shivering like a raped child… but she never cried. I can only see blurry wisps of her blonde curls as the coroner moves her into the black bag. Human trash bags. My make up is all smeared and I know I will be late for my appointment with Marshal. He will forgive me. He always does.
“Does she have any family?” The coroner is annoyed at having to repeat himself. Dick.
“Yes. She’s my sister.”
“I doubt that. You look nothing alike.” Dick.
“She is my sister. We have no remaining relatives. We are alone.” Dick.
“Very well. What is her surname?”
“We don’t have one. We can’t remember it.”
“Very well. Birth date?”
“We can’t really remember that either.”
“Did you two get simultaneous amnesia?” Dick.
“No! We never really knew any exact details about our lives! Our parents died before we knew how to walk. Dick…”
“Very well. That’s all.” Dick.
“Stoya!” I hear her screeching from below me. I know I’m very late. I get Suzanna to fix my face and I tear down the steps and into the limousine. “Step on it Gustav. To the usual place.”
“Yes.” After a very long time he mutters “We’re all gonna really miss Clarisse.” Gotta love Gustav. He always knows just what to say. We pull up to the gates of my weekly hell and I am ushered through by his private Spӧken to my personal torture chamber. It’s been decorated like a child’s playroom. I’m given a few minutes alone to prepare for the onslaught. He enters. I call him late and spank him with a wooden ruler. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Prime Minister!

HOURS LATER

We light our post coital cigarettes and I talk to him like an adult for the first time all evening. “I’m sorry I was late Marshal. My sister died this evening.”
“That’s quite alright dear. You performed excellently under the circumstances.”
“Thank you.” I can’t hate the man, not while there are worse out there… “so tell me. What has been going on in the State? You now it interests me so.” For a hooker I’m pretty up on my politics. “Have you met with the Tribunal yet on the Casper issue?”
“I meet with them Tuesday as a matter of fact.”
“How exciting! Have you actually seen their faces?!”
“Silly girl, no one sees their faces. Safety reasons you see.”
“Of course. Still, talking with them must be thrilling. Changing the State one day at a time.”
“Indeed. I’m going to propose they give us complete power to kill Caspers on sight and have Spӧken on the streets 24 hours of every day. Safety reasons you see.”
“What have the Caspers done that makes them shoot-on-sight targets?”
“It will keep our citizens safer to have them dealt with.”
“I see…” Typical politician, never answers the question.
“Ssshhh now kitten. You’d best be off. The sun is rising.”
“It’s been a pleasure Prime Minister.” Til next week Lucifer… the rising sun is the same colour as Clarisse’s lips were while she hung there. I fall onto the back seat and cry the whole way home. Now I’m alone. In all the world. I’m alone.

Here is chapter 3, I promise it will get more coherant.

Neige Rouge

"Willst du bis der Tod euch scheidettreu ihr sein für alle Tage" - Rammstein

Diana:

Stupid whores. “Can’t you do anything right?!” It is no vonder these girls become prostitutes. “Schnell! If you don’t vant me to put you in the pit again you stop whining und get on vis it!”
“Please, I’m sorry… I just can’t stand him anymore… his hands…”
“You poor child, come here. Come on, get up. Come here to Mutter[1].”
“Nggh!”
“Listen carefully to me child. You have no more free vill. You are not even your own person. You have been bought and you vill be sold. You are nossink more to those people than a packet of cigarettes! They are filthy human beings and you are no better. You vill do vhatever he desires and pretend to like it. Go now! Get clean and ask Suzanna to paint you.” Garbage… I am slipping. My girls never used to be so weak, now they all seem to be falling. At first I thought it was the drugs. But it’s not that. Then I thought it the clients, but it could not be all of them. It must be me. My training is not difficult enough any longer. It must be fixed. This is how I serve My Lord, I shall not fail him. They think me antiquated for my devotion to Mein Führer, so do I. But I believe he wanted a world free from discrimination. With only one race there is no racism, no fear of those who are different. United under one religion for the good of all those of true blood. The phone!

“Hello? Herr Rosen, how lovely it is to hear from you. Of course Clarisse is available tonight! For you alvays my dear friend. How vill you have her tonight? I see, very good. She will be there at midnight, sharp. Adieu Herr Rosen.” Dog. The man is an unbearable bore und the vorst degenerate pig I have known of my time in this city, not somessing easily achieved. “Clarisse!!! Get down here now! Schnell! Herr Rosen vants you as a school girl again!” She’d better not fall down the stairs. I hear screaming. I svear, just once if they could deal vith rodent themselves. Oh…fik… vell I’d better call that pig and tell him she’s not coming any longer. “Hello, Herr Rosen? Yes, it’s Diana. Ve have a small problem. Yes. Vell she has come down with a case of…severe rigor mortis. I may send a replacement if you vish? Free of charge of course, for the inconvenience. Yes, same uniform. Brilliant! I vill send her over soon. Adeiu!”

“Justine! Take her place! Sarah! Take down her body and call the coroner. If I have not made it clear a thousand times, the bondage rope is NOT a toy! Sohn eines weibchens! Get her down!” It is a miracle I house the girls here and have the brothel next door. This is extremely bad for business…
“I can’t do it Frau Berhardt! She’s too heavy.”
“She’s lighter than you Sarah! Ask one of the others to help you!”
“I’m coming!”
“Dunke Stoya. Don’t forget, you have an appointment with Herr Carver in two hours.”
“I know Frau Berhardt. Almost ready.” Stoya, she is my golden child. Well behaved and well trained. I vish they vere all like her. Mein leibchen.


[1] Mother in German

Yest another chapter from the comic. Still need artist!!!

Neige Rouge

"Run run run as fast as you can but you can't run run from the Childcatcher's hands." - Patric Wolf


Cheshire:


It’s always so dark in this house. Mum told me when she was a little girl, kids used to be afraid of the dark. Now, she says, it’s all we have to keep us safe. I slide up to the window and peek through the wooden slats. Past midnight and the street is brighter than this place. The red light hanging over the door across the road flickers and starts to fade. I think it looks a lot like the way my father’s eyes looked when he was shot. I can only remember his eyes now.

It’s Thursday, it’s my night out. Mum is sleeping so I grab Kimby and wander out of the darkness. Kimby is a stuffed bear my father gave me before he died. He told me it would protect me when he couldn’t, and it has. I wander the streets freely at this time. There is no one around. There was never an official curfew, but the beatings make people stay home. Not many people know who administers these beatings. Conspiracy theorists say it’s The Tribunal’s Spöken that do it. Others think it’s the Caspers, the roaming gangs. But I know who it is. The man who can’t be seen.

I feel someone behind me. He’s not trying to sneak up on me, he won’t die yet. “Hello little girl, what are you doing out so late? Does your mummy know?”
“She does. I forgot my teddy outside.” He’s not one of them. Usually you can smell it on their breath. That disgusting hungry stink coming from the back of their throats.
“Ok, well make sure you run back inside.”
“Thank you.” As he walks away I make to run for the alley. There has to be some of them waiting in there. Nothing! Where is everyone tonight?
“You won’t find anyone.” I know the voice is coming from my left but there’s nothing there. I realise with terror it can only be him. The one who can’t be seen.
“Stay away.”
“I’m not going to hurt you little girl. I’ve seen the work you do and I’m impressed.” It’s a trick. “That is a very handy little bear you’re clutching. I can tell you didn’t win it at the fair.”
“What’s a fair?” I need to leave. He knows too much.
“Tsk. I’m showing my age. It was something fun. They call them distractivs now.” “Yeah…” he’s blocked me in!
“I want you to come with me for tonight.” I can’t smell him, I can’t even see him. Maybe I’ve finally gone mad like all those other children. “But where are my manners.” This ghost white human shape appears in the entrance to the alley. I can’t help but let out a squeak that might have been a scream if I weren’t scared of both him and the Spӧken. All I could see of him are his eyes. They are the most amazing shade of green. I agree. “I will come with you, but promise to return me to this spot.”
“I promise.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Always.”
“Ok. Let’s go.” His eyes don’t burn like theirs. I almost feel safe, like I don’t need Kimby.

Neige Rouge: Upcoming comic. Just need an illustrator.

Neige Rouge

"I have to look up just to see hell" - Marilyn Manson

Prologue

I stand naked in the falling snow. The snowflakes fall on my skin and melt. Those that fall above my heart take the longest time to melt. I pretend I’m somewhere else. Somewhere warm. It doesn’t work. The wind makes whips of my hair, lashing at my face. This building is tall. I’m not scared of falling. Someone always catches me. But not this time. There is no one to save me. The city is frozen solid. Nothing moves except the snow in the wind and even that is controlled like the flakes in a snow globe. This is the last shred of free will I have. And I will use it to paint the city.

Frank:

It is the year 2043 and free will is only for the fortunate. I am in this clinic every day…except Sunday. They won’t let you work on Sunday. It’s as though we’re on a reverse merry-go-round, the world is spinning faster than usual but we aren’t going anywhere. Not on a Sunday. On Sunday I look at all there is done and I weep for this world.
“Mr. Carver in to see you Dr. Warren.”
“Thank you Hazel. Please send him in.” I weep so… The man enters my office. He’s been seeing me for years. He never seems to change, only the coldness in his eyes seems to thicken. I’m sure it will blind him soon… and there will be nothing I can do.
“Hello Frank, how’s the game?”
“Afternoon Prime minister, the game treats me well.”
“Now Frank, just because I’ve become Prime minister doesn’t mean I insist on formality. I’ve been coming here since I was fresh out of The State, you know my name.”
“Now so does the rest of the country Marshal. And I suspect a great deal of the world’s powers.”
“And so they should. A man is only as good as the name put to him.”
“Open your eyes…wider…I’m afraid your myopia is getting worse. I’ll have to prescribe a stronger lens. Though at your age Marshal you really ought to start worrying about cataracts.” There is nothing to suggest he is even at risk of cataracts.
“I’m too young for that Frank. Ha!”
“You’re pushing 70, you smoke and drink excessively. I’m only trying to help.”
“Well, when I’ve gone blind I’ll give you a call. When can I pick up the new glasses?”
“In a week.”
“I’m sitting with The Tribunal on Tuesday, see if you can have them for me before then. We’re trying out this new policy with those damned Caspers.” He has the audacity to stick a large note in my top pocket. I am sick of this life.
“I’ll do my best Marshal.”
“Thanks Frank, see you Monday.”
“Monday.” He leaves and I breathe in deeply.
“Next patient Dr. Warren.”
“Thank you Hazel.”

Culture, Darwinism and Sexuality: in Three Instalments.

The Afterbirth: Culture

Culture. It’s a living, growing, speeding organism. Like genetic material it evolves, it’s passed down generations and it is something stable in terms of concept. Our perceptions change, with knowledge comes paradigm shifts. for instance, our perception of beauty has evolved. From the voluptuous women of Peter Paul Rubens in the 1600’s to the slender, large breasted women in FHM today. Beauty and the way we view the body has certainly changed dramatically. “Beauty’s” popularity depends on the perceptions that are formulated at any given period in time. It is reliant on the predilection of the majority. There are those who favour the slender, those who prefer a larger build and those who seek non-mainstream beauty such as individuals with piercings or tattoos.




We adorn ourselves, paint ourselves, and even modify ourselves to either conform to the modern standard of beauty or to oppose it. The body, like art, is a means of conveying an idea. We do this in an attempt to inform strangers that we are who we are. Our minds are not what shape others’ views of us but our bodies. They cannot see our minds, only the shell that holds them. We portray our minds through our bodies to establish an identity. It is a dismal fact that there might be a beautiful mind that is never discovered or explored because it is hidden behind a too plain exterior. This is what is meant by the term “cultural trappings”.

Culture, Darwinism and Sexulatity: in Three Instaslments.

Reason for birth: Darwinism



If we take a biological standpoint, we can see how natural selection plays a large part in culture and breeding. Natural selection falls into Darwin’s theory of evolution. Those that do not meet the criteria to survive will die out and subsequently so will their genes, those that survive will obviously reproduce. In regards to animals this is a theory that is quite sound. In human terms this is a sadly something that does not happen. The stupid do not die out, (nor does racism or prejudice.), they reproduce because they are too stupid to understand how contraception works. Those who are intelligent and have the means to further society and it’s culture seldom breed for they know unto what they will release their progeny; Pestilence, War, Famine and Death. In the wise words of Harvey Danger, “Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding, the cretins cloning and feeding”.

But can the smart man outrun the rat? “They also aspire to a higher place in society’s pecking order, but in so doing force others in the rat race to run faster to keep up.” (Economist, 23/12/2006: 13). It is eternally running for fear that we will become genetically and culturally obsolete and die out. And thus is the process of evolution and natural selection.

Culture, Darwinism and Sexuality: in Three Instalments

Beginning at the birth: Sexuality

The human brain enters the world predominantly blank, save a few basic functions. The limbic system functions allowing the brain, person to feel emotion, but how does it communicate these emotions. It must be taught. Corporeal characteristics emphasize that our minds are connected to our bodies which determine how we feel or respond when exposed to certain stimuli other than sensory, like words from someone we care about. The body is, as many postulate, the housing for the soul, simply the casing for our minds. The sex of the body and the gender that is formulated are separate entities. The body is born with the sex determined, gender is what we learn through our environment during our existence. The previously assumed gender roles were linked with the sex of the human, however, through time we have seen that gender and sex have become estranged though not entirely. Sexuality in itself can be seen as a gender distinction, one that was previously unacceptable but is potentially a product of biology and environment. Could homosexulatity, indeed any degree of our sexual nature be genetically predisposed?

“J. Michael Bailey and Richard Pillard also studied the gayness between MZ1 twins, DZ2 twins, and non-related adopted brothers. They examined how many of the sample population examined were gay and how many were straight. They found that 52% of MZ twins were both self-identified homosexuals, 22% of DZ twins were so, and only 5% of non-related adopted brothers were so.”

(Johnson, 2003), (1. Identical twins, 2. Fraternal twins).

Genetics and human studies only accomplishes so much. This is still only correlation, making it an inexact science therefore not wholly reliable. In the case of transvestites and transsexuals it is not a case of “gender confusion” as some antiquated psychologists may phrase it, because gender is something learned. These are the people who are truly free. Culture and society have not shaped their minds to the conventional mould, nor do they fear the consequences of freedom of expression. Think of everything you were ever taught growing up. All the toys that were bought for you...dolls for girls, race cars for boys, pink for girls, blue for boys...who we are reeks of predestiny. But times are changing and this is becoming less of a problem. Children are more often than not left to their own devices, to teach themselves. Therein lies the hope for a more accepting race of humans for tomorrow.

The Ballet

I don't have time for a proper post but I felt obliged to put something up here. I wrote this one day and after I read over it when it was finished I realised someone else was using my hands...

And then they started. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It was like they were completely separate entities even though they were joined at the waist.

They sang like angels and moved like devils, in the end they just sank back into the mould that had birthed them and all they were became ashes.

They had left no legacy, they had never even started something that might be recognised in some reporter’s sad, unpublished journal somewhere ages and ages hence. Nothing was left, not a trace of their existence or their fabulous accomplishment.

What comes from nothing is always nothing. But in between the emergence of nothing from nothing a small glimpse of something can be seen. When one is privy to that kind of immense, immeasurable beauty, there is never a word in the vernacular accurate enough to describe this phenomenon. It’s like the birth of the messiah but then the child dies upon entering the world. The potential for something that might save, inspire, nourish. Then it suddenly dies like a lost opportunity or the train that’s missed by a hare’s breath.

Appreciating that is the hardest task of a human being. Seeing something that we would devote our entire lives to disappear in an instant, almost before we could recognise it, not hating this thing is the hardest duty we may have the misfortune and the blessing to endeavour. When we stop hating it we learn to look at it as we might a piece of fine art that we can’t quite understand through all the pretension. We know it’s good, we like it for our own reasons, but the pretension surrounding it obscures our ability to love it.

Think of the ballet. See the dancers, weaving, spinning, turning and leaping, taking their cues. The costumes swirl like wine in a connoisseur’s glass. The sequins sparkle and entrance you. You can’t think on anything except the dancers, their hair knotted tight. The eyes in their soft porcelain faces never lift to meet yours. You yearn but they do not look up. Not even a stolen glance. It begins to burn you, but you can’t move because watching them is the closest you can get to their beauty without breaking them. Delicate little animals, nothing can be said to them or around them, dancing to music like deaf mutes, unspeaking graceful bodies, soulless.

Length of Time a Blog can be Maintained by a Pre-Med Student

The science student in me wants to start with an intro, followed by methods and materials, results and finally a discussion. It is my custom (however frequently we are taught not to) to begin with the abstract. This is a piece of writing commonly left until the end, when you can give the potential reader a brief overview of what they are to embark upon. I haven't yet reached the end so I can't afford that privilage. In human terms our abstracts are our obituaries. Long lives lived, summed up in a few neat sentences. Headstones are the ultimate in efficient abstracts:

"JaneDoe

1980-2043

Loving mother,

devoted wife,

amazing mistress"

They're the best because they are so concise. They sum up what you were for the people in your life. Your results. In science all anyone ever cares about are your results. They mean everything. People get hung up on the methods section. This is only useful if you care to repeat the experiment. Who can say they have wanted to live some one else's life?

This is the start of a long and inconsistent experiment, that I'm fairly certain is doomed from the outset, but only time will tell. If there is anything to glean from this bottom-of-the-playdough-bin drivel be it only this one word of advice:

Orange.