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.