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Apr. 10th, 2006 @ 12:09 pm
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maybe I should start coming here more often. It's been almost a year since I last posted here... maybe I'll change that. |
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| RADIO
-Serendipitous Lease |
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May. 9th, 2005 @ 09:55 pm
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I hope he's happier now.
jack
Rest in peace, you lovely bastard.
mood:  crushed |
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give me your hand, dearest
it's time for us to go
the storm is coming and we mustn't stay
it's for the best I swear
just run with me
lend me your trust, dearest
I can't stand thinking that you're still reluctant
things may seem unbelievable
but I'm here for you
so please
just run with me
you bring me to my knees and that's
alright
'cause I'm looking for some shelter
to weather out this storm
and the best lean-to is you
I know the best lean-to is you
so lets run
the thunder's clapping close, my love
we can leave now and escape the rain
if you can just believe in me
I swear things will be better
please
just run with me
you've stolen away my heart and that's
alright
'cause I'm looking to give it up
to give me shelter from this storm
and the best lean-to is you
you know I do all I can do
always
so lets runmood:  creative listening to...: "moonlight"-film strip series (myspace.com/filmstripseries) |
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Everyone should check out our new songs on the Serendipitous Lease myspace page. We have two new demo tunes added to the list. We don't have any shows set up as of yet, but we're looking to begin booking real soon.
just check out the songs. You wont be dissappointed.
http://www.myspace.com/serendipitouslease mood: gotta go to fuckin' work! |
| » and there he went |
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things are so much less yours in something like this
you mind still exists, but it commands reality to a lesser extent
it's as if the thins that have always been there have been allowed
allowed to come out
it falls so much beyond the physical feeling... the feeling of warmth and becomes something purely phsycodelic.
It's as if I'm no longer detached fromt he world. By detaching myself from my physical body my mind has been given the opportunity to see things for itself... outside of the eye and it's occular nerves.
things are making more sense for a reason
shapes are there in history for a reason
things have been built for a reason
because those things really do exist beyond the mind.
it makes feel as though you really do remember the whomb.
Apr. 16th, 2005 @ 09:45 pm
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| » I'm seeing god |
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I've stretched so many times
I'm seeing faces with shimmering eyes
moving is like swimming in an ocean of my mind
I can't explain to you
I can't seem to compare
I can't seem to command the muscles in my neck to move
long enough to give you ware
there are so many purples in my eyes
I can see the fire in the skies
and the dragon that lives outside my door
he isn;t fiction anymore
I can hear it breathing
I can see it seething
and I know it's there
but I can't be scared because he's always been
always been right there
and it's only now, that I could experience his company
Things are moving now, and so I'm going to go away
I'm seeing god
Apr. 16th, 2005 @ 06:27 pm
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| » origins... |
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The Cruiser Ilkor had just gone into her interstellar overdrive beyond the orbit of Pluto when a worried officer reported to the Commander.
"excellency," he said uneasily, "I regret to inform you that because of a technician's carelessness, a Type H-9 Ruum has been left behind on the third planet, together with anything it may have collected."
The Commander's triangular eyes hooded momentarily, but when he spoke his voice was level.
"How was the ruum set?"
"For a maximum radius of 30 miles, and 160 pounds plus or minus fifteen."
There was silence for several seconds, then the Commander said: "We cannot reverse course now. In a few weeks we'll be returning, and can pick up the ruum then. I do not care to have one of those costly, self-energizing models charged against my ship. You will see," he ordered coldly, "that the individual responsible is severly punished."
But at the end of its run, in the neighborhood of Rigel, the cruiser me a flat, ring-shaped raider; and when the inevitable fire-fight was over, both ships, semi-molten, radioactive, and laden with dead, were starting a billion year orbit around the star.
And on the earth, it was the age of reptiles.
"Don't forget to mail that letter to my wife," Jim shouted.
"the minute I land," walt Leonard called back, starting to rev the engine. "And you find us some uranium - a strike is just what Cele needs. A fortune for your son and her, hey?" His white teeth flashed in agrin. "Don't rub noses with any grizzlies - shoot'em, but don't scare'em to death!".
Jim thumbed his nose as the seaplane speeded up, leaving a frothy wake . he felat a queer chill as the amphibian took off. For three weeks he would be isolated in this remote valley of the Canadian Rockies. If for any reason the plane failed to return to the icy blue lake, he would surely die. Even with enough food, no man could surmount the frozen peaks and make his way on foot over hundreds of miles of almost virgin wilderness. But of course Walt Leonard would return on shcedule, and it was up to Jim whether or not they lost their stake. If there was any uranium in the valley, he had twenty-one days to find it. To work the, and no gloomy forebodings.
Moving with the unhurried precision of an experienced woodsman, he built alean-to in the shelter of a rockey overhang. For this three weeks of summer, nothing more permanent was needed. Perspiring in the strong morning sun, he piled his supplies back under the ledge, well covered by a waterproof tarpaulin, and protected from the larger animal prowlers. All but the dynamite; that he cached, also carefully wrapped against moisture, 200 yards away. Only a fool shares his quarters with a box of high explosives.
The first two weeks went by all too swiftly, without any encouraging finds. There was only one good possibility left, and just enough time to explore it. So early one morning towards the endof his third week, Jim Irwin prepared for a last- ditch foray into the northeast part of the valley, a region he had not yet visited.
he took the Geiger counter, slippingon the earphones reversed, to keep the normal rattle from dulling his hearing, and reaching for the rifle, set out, telling himself it was now or never so far as this particular expedition was concerned. The bulky .30-06 was a nuisance and he had no enthusiasm for its weight, but the huge grizzlies of Canada are not intruded upon with impunity, and take a lot of killing. He'd already had to dispose of two, a hateful chore, since the big bears were vanishing all too fast. And the rifle had proved a great comfort on several ticklish occasions when actual firing had been avoided. The .22 pistol he left in its sheepskin holster in the lean-to.
He was whistling at the start, for the clear, frosty air, the bright sun on blue-white ice fields, and the heady smell of summer, all delighted his heart despite his bad luck as a prospector. He planned to go one day's journey to the new region, spend about 36 hours exploring it intensibely, and be back in time to mee the plane at noon. Except for his emergency packet, he took no food or water. it would be easy enough to knock over a rabbit, and the streams were alive with firm-fleshed rainbow trout of the kind no longer common in the States.
All morning Jim walked, feeling an occasional surge of hope as teh counter chattered. But it's clatter always died down. The valley had nothing radio-active of value, only traces. Apparently they'd made a bad choice. His cheerfulness faded. They needed a strike badly, especially Walt. And his own wife, Cele, with a kid onthe way. But there was still a chance. These last 36 hours - he's snoop at night, if necessary - might be the pay-off. he reflected a little bitterly that it would help quite a bit if some of those birds' he'sd staked would make a strike and return his dought. Right this minute there was close to 8000 bucks owing to him.
A wry smile touched his lips, and he abandoned unprofitable speculations for plans about lunch. The sun, as well as his stomach, said it was time. he had just decided to take out his line and fish a foaming brook, when he rounded a grassy knoll to come upon a sight that made himstiffen to a halt, his jaw dropping.
It was like some enterprising giant's outdoor butcher shop: a great assortment of animal bodies, neatly lined up in a triple row that extended almost as far as the eye could see. And what animals! To be sure, those nearest him were ordinary deer, bear, cougars, and mountain sheep - one of each, apparently - but down theline were strange, uncouth, half-formed, hairy beasts; and beyond them a nightmare conglomeration of reptiles. One of the latter, at the extreme end of the remarkable display, he recognized at once. There had been a much larger specimen fabricated about an incomplete skeleton, of course, int eh museum at home.
No doubt about it - it was a small stegosaur, no bigger than a pony!
Fascinated, Jim walked down the line, glancing back over the immensearray. Peering more closely at one scaly, dirty-yellow lizard, he saw an eyelid tremble. Then he realized the truth. The animals were not dead, but paralyzed and miraculously preserved. Perspiration prickled his forehead. how long since stegosaurs had roamed this valley?
All at once he noticed another curious circumstnce: the victims were roughly of a size. Nowhere, for example, was there a really large saurian. No tyrannosaurus. For that matter, no mammoth. Each specimen was about the size of a large sheep. He was pondering this odd fact, when the underbrush rustled a warning behind him.
Jim Irwin had once worked with mercury, and for a second it seemed to him that a half-filled leathersack of the liquid metal had rolled into the clearing. For the quasi-spherical object moved with just such a weighty, fluid motion. But it was not leather; and what appeared at first a disgusting wartiness, turned out on closer scrutiny to be more like the functional projections of some outlandish mechanism. Whatever the thing was, he had little time to study it, for after the shperoid had whipped out and retracted a numberof metal rods with bulbous, lens-like structures at their tips, it rolled twards him at a speed of abouyt five miles an hour. And from it's purposeful advance the man had no doubt that it meant to add him to the pathetic heap of living-dead specimens.
Uttering an incoherent exclamation, Jim sprang back a number of paces, unslinging his rifle. The ruum that had been left behind was still some yards off, approaching at that moderate but invariable velocity, an advance more terrifying in its regularity than the headlong charge of a mere brute beast.
Jim's hand flew to the bolt, and with practiced deaftness he slammed a cartridge into the chamber. He snuggled to battered stock against his cheek, and using the peep sight, aimed squarely at the leathery bulk - a perfect target in the bright afternoon sun. A grim little smile touched his lips as he squeezed the trigger. he knew what oneof those 180-grain, metal jacketed, boat-tail slugs ould do at 2700 feet per second. Probably at that close range it would keyhole and blow the fould thing into a mush, by God!
Wham! The familiar kick against his shoulder. E-e-e-e-! The whining screech of a ricochet. He sucked in his breath. There could be no doubt whatever. At a mere twenty yards, a bullet fromthis hard-hitting rifle had glanced from the ruum's surface.
Frantically jim worked the bolt. He blasted two more rounds, then realized the utter futility of such tactics. When the ruum was six feet away, he saw gleaming finger0hooks flick from warty knobs, and a hollow, sting-like probe, dripping greenish liquid, poised snakily between them. The man turned and fled.
Jim Irwin weighed exactly 149 pounds.
It was easy enough to pull ahead. The ruum seemed incapable of increasing it's speed. But Jim had no illusions on that score. The steady five-mile-an-hour pacewas something no organism on earth could maintain for more than a few hours. Before long, Jim guessed, the hunted animal had either turned on its implacable pursuer or, in the case of more timid creatures, ran itself to exhaustion in a circleout of sheer panic. Only the winged were safe. But for anything on the ground the result was inevitable: another specimen for the awesome array. And for whome the whole collection? Why? Why?
Coolly, as he ran, Jim began to shed all suplus weight. he glanced at the reddening sun, wondering about the coming night. He hesitated over the rifle; it had proved useless against the ruum, but his military training impelled him to keep the weapon to the last. Still, every pound raised the odds against him in the gruelling race he foresaw clearly. Logic told him thatmilitary rasoning did not aapply to a contest like this; there would be no disgrace in abandoning a worthless rifle. And when weight became really vital, the .30-06 would go. But meanwihile he slung it over one shoulder. The geiger counter he placed as gently as possible on a flat rock, hardly breaking his stride.
One thig was damned certain. This would be no rabbit run, a blind, panicky flight until exhausted, ending in squealing submission. This would be a fighting retreat, and he'd use every trick of survival he'd learned in his hazard-filled lifetime.
Taking deep, measured breaths, he loped along, watching with shrewd eyes for anything that might be used for his advantage in the weird contest. Luckily the valley was sparsely wooded; in brush or forest his straghtaway speed would be almost useless.
Suddenly he came upon a sight that made him pause. it was a point where a huge boulder overhund the trail, and jim saw possibilities in the situation. He grinned as he remembered a Malay namtrap that had once saved his life. Springing to a hillock, he looked back over the graassy plain. The afternoon sun cast long shadows, but it was easy enough to spot the pursuing ruum, still oozing along on Jim's trail. he watched the thing with painful anziety. Everhthing hinged upon this brief survey. He was right! Yes, although at most places the man's trail was neither the only route nor the best one, the ruum dogged the footsteps of his prey. The significanceof that fact was immense, but Irwin had no more than twelve minutes to implement the knowledge.
Deliberately dragging his feet, Irwin made aclear trail directly under the boulder. After giong past it for about ten yards, he walked backwards in his own prints until just short of the overhang, and then jumped up clearof the track to a point behind the balanced rock.
Whipping out his heavy-duty belt knife, he began to dig, scientifically, but with furious haste, about the base of the boulder. Every few moments, sweating with apprehension and effort, he rammed it with one shoulder. At last, it teetered a little. He had just jammed the knife back into its sheath, and was crouching there, panting, when the ruum rolled into sight over a smal ridge on his back trail.
He watched the gray spheroid moving towards him and fought to quiet his sobbing breath. There was no telling what other senses it might bring into play, even though the ruum seemed to prefer just to follow in his prints. But it certainly had a whole battery of instruments at its disposal. he crouched low behind the rock, every nerve a charged wire.
But there was no changeof technique by the ruum; seemingly intent on the footprits of its prey, the strange sphere rippled along, passing directly under the great boulder. As it did so, Irwin gave asavage yuell and thrusting his whole muscular weight against the balanced mass, toppled it squarely on the ruum. Five tons of stone fell froma height of twelve feet.
Jim scambled down. he stood there, staring at the huge lump and shaking his head dazedly. "Fixed that son of a bitch!" he said in a thick voice. He gave the boulder a kick. "Hah! Walt and I might clear a buck or two from your little meat market. Maybe this expedition won't be a total waste.
Enjoy yourself in hell where you came from!"
Then he leaped back, his eyes wild. The giant rock was shifting! Slowly its five-ton buldk was sliding off the trail, raising a ridge of soil as it grated along. Even as he stared, the boulder tilted, and a grey protuberance appeared under the nearest edge. With a choked cry, Jim Iriwin broke into a lurching run.
He ran a full mile down the trail. Then, finally, he stopped and looked back. he could just make out a dark dot moving away from the fallen rock. It progressed as slowly and as regularly and as inexorably as before, and in his direction. jim sat down heavily, putting his head in his scratched, grimy hands.
But that disparing mood did not last. After all, he had gained a twenty minute respite. Lying down, trying to relax as much as possible, he took the flat packet of emergency rations from his jacket, and eating quickly but without bolting, disposed of some pemmican, bisuit, and chocolate. A few sips of icy water froma streamlet, and he was almost ready to continue his fantastic struggle. but first he swallowed one of the three benzedrine pills he carried for physical crises. When the ruum was still and estimated ten minutes away, Jim Irwin trotted off, much of his wiry strength back, and fresh courage to counter bone-deep weariness.
After running for fifteen minutes, he came to a sheer face of rock about 30 feet high. The terrain on either side was barely passable, consisting of choked gullies, spiky brush, and knife-edged rocks. if HJim could make the top of this little cliff, the ruum surely would have to detour, a circumstance that might put it many minutes behind him.
He looked up at the sun. Huge and crimson, it was almost touching the horizon. he would have to move fast. Irwin wsa no rock climber but he did know the fundamentals. Using every crevice, roughness, andminute ledge he fought his way up the cliff. Somehow - unconsciously - he used the flowing climb of a mountaineer, which takes each foothold very briefly as an unstressed pivot point in a series of rhythmic advances.
He had just reached the top when the ruum rolled up to the ase of the cliff.
Jim knew very well that he ought to leave at once, taking advantage of the few precious remaining moments of daylight. Every second gained was of tremendous value; but curiosity and hope made him wait. he told himself that the instant his pursuer detoured he would get out of there all the faster. Besides, the thing might even give up and he could sleep right there.
Sleep! His body lusted for it.
But the ruum would not detour. It hesitated only a few seconds at the foot of the barrier. Then a number of knobs opened to extrude metallic wands. One of these, topped with lenses, waved in the air. Jim drew back too late - their uncanny gaze had found him as he lay atop the cliff, perring down. He cursed his idiocy.
Immediately all the wands retracted, and from a different knob a slender rod, blood-red in the setting sun, began to shoot straight up to the man. As he watched, frozen in place, it's barbed tip gripped the cliff's edge almost under his nose.
Jim leaped to his feet. Already the rod was shortening as the ruum reabsorbed its shining length. And the leathery sphere was rising off the ground. Swearing loudly, Jimfixed his eyes on the tenacious hook, drawing back one heavy boot.
But experience restrained him. The mighty kick was never launched. He had seen too many rough-and-tumbles lost by and injudicious attempt at the boot. It wouldn't do at all to let any part of his body get within reach of the ruum's superb tools. instead he seized a length of dry branch, and inserting one end under the metal hook, began to pry.
There was a sputtering flash, white and lacy, and even through the dry wood, he felt the potent surge of power that splintered the end. he dropped the smoldering stick with a gasp of pain, and wringing his numb fingers, backed off several steps, full of impotent rage. For a moment he paused, half inclined to run again, but then his upper lip drew back and snarling, he unslung his rifle. By God! he knew he had been right to lug the damned thing all this way - even if it had beat a tattoo on his ribs. now he had the ruum right where he wanted it!
Kneeling to steady his aim in the failing light, jim sighted atthe hook and fired. There was a soggy thud as the ruum fell. Jim shouted. The heavy slug had done a lot more than he expected. not only had it blasted the metal claw loose, but it had smashed a big gap in the cliff's edge. it would be prettydamned hard for the ruum to use thta part of the rock again!
he looked down. Sure enough, the ruum was back at the bottom. Jim Irwin grinned. Every time the thing clamped a hook over the bluff, he'd blow that hook loose. There was plenty of ammunition in his pocket and until the moon rose, bringing a good light for shooting with it, he'd stick the gun's muzzle inches away if neccessary. Besides, the thing- whatever it might be - was obviously too intelligent to keep up a hopeless struggle. Sooner or later it wouuld accept the detour. And then, maybe the night would help to hid his trail.
Then - he choked and, for a brief moment, tears came to his eyes. Down below, in the dimness, the squat, phlegmatic spheroid was extruding three hooked rods simultaniously in a fanlike spread. In a perfectly coordinated movement, the rods snagged the cliff's edge at intervals of about four feet.
Jim irwin whipped the rifle to his shoulder. All right - this was going to be just like rapid fire for record back at Benning. Only, at Benning, they didn't expect good shooting in the dark!
But the first shot was a bull's-eye, smacking the left-hand hook loose in a puff of rock dusst. His second shot did almost as well, knocking the gritty stuff loose so the center barb slipped off. but even as he whirled to level at number three, Jim saw it was hopeless.
The first hook was back in place. No matter how well he shot, at least one rod would always be in position, pulling the ruum to the top.
Jim hung the useless rifle muzzle down from a stunted tree and ran into the deepening dark. The toughening of his body, a process of years, was paying off now. So what? Where was he going? What could he do now? Was there anything that could stop the damned thing behind him?
Then he remembered the dynamite.
Gradually changing his course, the weary man cut back towards his campt by the lake. OVerhead the stars brightened, pointing the way. Jim lost any sense of time. he must have eaten as he wobbled along, for he wasn't hungry. Maybe he could eat atthe leant-to . . . no, there wouldn't be time . . . take a benzedrine pill. no, the pills were all gone and the moon ws up and he could hear the ruum close behind. Close.
Quite often Phosphorescent eyes peered at him fromthe underbrush and once, just at dawn, a grizzly whoofed with displeasure at his passage.
Sometime during the night his wife, Cele, stood before him withou outstretched arms. "Go away!" he rasped. "Go away! you can make it! It can't chase both of us!" So she turned and ran lightly alongside of him. But when Irwin panted across a tiny glade, Cele faded away into the moonlight and he realizedshe hadn't been there at all.
Shortly after sunrise Jim Irwin reached the lake. The ruum was close en9ough for him to bear the dull sounds of its pasage. jim staggered, his eyes closed. He hit himslef feebly on the nose, his eyes jerked open and he saw the explosive. The sight of the greasy sticksof dynamitesnapped Irwin wide awake.
he forced himself to calmness and carefully considred what to do. Fuse? No. It would be impossible to leave fused dynamite in the trail and time the detonation with the absolute precision he needed. Sweat poured down his body, his clothes were sodden with it. IT was hard to think. The explosion must be set off from a distance and at the exact moment the ruum was passing over it. But Irwin dared not use a long fuse. The rate of burning was not constant enough. Couldn't calibrate it perfectly with the ruum's advance. jim Irwin's body sagged all over, his chin sank toward his heaving chest. He jerked his head up, stepped back - and saw the .22 pistol wehre he had left it in the lean-to.
His sunken eyes flashed.
Moving with frenetic haste, he took the half-filled case, piled all the remaining percussion caps among the loose sticks in a devil's mixture. Weaving out to the trail, he carefully placed box and contents directly on his earlier tracks some twenty yards from a rocky ledge. it was a risk - the stuff might go any time - but that didn't matter. he would far rather be blown to rags than end up living but paralyzed in the ruum's outdoor butcher's stall.
The exhausted Irwin had barely hunched down behind the thin ledge of rock before his inexorable pursuer appeared over a light rise 500 yards away. Jim scrunched deeper into the hollow, then saw a vertical gap, a narrow crack between rocks. That was it, he thought vaguely. He could sight through the gap at the dynamite and still be shielded from the blast. if it was a shield . . . when that half-case blew only twenty yards away . . .
He stretched out on his belly, watching the ruum roll forward. A hammer of exhaustion pounded his ballooning skull. jesus! When hadhe slept last? This was the first time he had lain down inhours. Hours? Ha! it was days. His muscles stiffened, locked into throbbing, burning knots. THen he felt the morning sun on his back, soothing, warming, easing . . . No! If he let go, if he slept now, it was the ruum's macabre collection for Jim Irwin! Stiff fingers tightened around the pistol. He'd stay awake! If he lost - if the ruum survived the blassxt - there'd still be time to put the bullet through his brain.
He looked down at the sleek pistol, then out at the innocent seeming booby trap. If he timed this right - and he would = the ruum wouldn't survive. no. he relaxed a little, yielding just a bit to the gently insistent sun. A bird whistled softly somewhere above him and a fish splashed in the lake.
Suddenly he was wrenched to full awareness. Damn! of all times for a grizzly to come snooping about! With the whole of Irwin's camp ready for greedy looting, a fool bear had to come sniffing around the dynamite! The furred monster smelled carefully at the box, nosed around, rumbled deep displeasure at the alien scent of man. Itwin held his breath. Just a touch would blow a cap. A single cap meant . . .
The grizzly lifted his head from the box and growled hoarsely. The box was ignored, the offensive odor of man was forgotten. its feral little eyes focussed on a plodding spheroid that was now only forty yards away. Jim Irwin snickered. Until he had met the ruum the grizzly bear of the North American continent was the only thing in the world he had ever feared. And now = why the hell was he so calm about it? = the two terrors of his existence were meeting head on and he was laughing. He shook his head and the great side muscles in his neck hurt abominably. He looked down at his pistol, then out at the dynamite. These were the only real things in his world.
About six feet frm the bear, the ruum paused. Still in the gripof that almost idiotic detachment, Jim Irwin found himself wondering again what it was, where it had come from. The grizzly arose on its haunches, the embodiment of utter ferocity. Terrible teeth flashed white against red lips. The business-like ruum started to roll past. The bear closed in, roaring. It cuffed at the ruum. A mighty paw, armed with black claws sharper and stronger than scythes, made that cuff. It would have disemboweled a rhinoceros. irwin cringed as that side-swipe knocked dust from the leathery sphere. The ruum was hurled back several inches. it paused, recovered, and with the same dreadful casualness it rippled on, making a wider circle, ignoring the bear. But the lordof the woods wasn't settling for any draw. moving with that incredible agility which has terified Indians, Spanish, French and Anglo-Americans since the first encounter of any of them with his species, the grizzly whirled, side-stepped beautifully and hugged the ruum. The terrible, shaggy forearms tightened, the slavering jaws champed at the gray surface. Irwin half rose. "Go it!" he croaked. even as he cheered the clumsy emperor of the wild, Jim thought it was an insane tableau: the village idiot wrestling with a beach ball.
Then the silver metal gleamed bright against gray. There was a flash, swift and deadly. The roar of the king abruptly became a whimper, a gurgle and then there was nearly a ton of terror wallowing in death - it throat slashed open. Him irwin sawthe bloody blade retract into the gray spheroid, leaving a bright red smear on the thing's dusty hide.
And the ruum rolled forward pastthe giant corpse, implacable, still intent on the man's spoor, his footprints, his pathway. Okay, baby, Jim giggled at the dead grizzly, this is for you, for Cele, for - for lots of poor dumb animals like us - come to, you damned fool, he cursed at himself. And aimed at the dynamite. And very calmly, very carefully, Jim Irwin squeezed the triggerof his pistol.
Briefly, sound first. Then giant hands lifted his body from where he lay, then let go. He came down hard, face in a patch of nettles, but he was sick, he didn't care. He remembered that the birds were quiet. Then there was a fluid thump as something massive struck the grass a few yards away. Then there was quiet.
Irwin lifted his head . . . all men do in such a case. His body still ached. He lifted sore shoulders and saw . . . an enormous, smoking crater in the earth. he also saw, a dozen paces away, gray-white because it was covered now with powdered rock, the ruum.
It was under a tall, handsome pine tree. Even as Jim watched, wondering if the ringing in his ears would ever stop, the ruum rolled toward him.
Irwin fumbled for his pistol. It was gone. It had dropped somewhere, out of reach. he wanted to pray, then, but couldn't get properly started. Instead, he kept thinking, idiotically, "My sister Ethel can't spel Nebuchadnezzar and never could. My sister Ethel - "
The ruum was a foot away now, and Jim closed his eyes. He felt cool, metallic fingers touch, grip, lift. his unresisting body was raised several inches, and juggled oddly. Shuddering, he waitied for the terrible syringe with its green liquid, seeing the yellow, shrunken face of a lizard with one eylid a-tremble.
Then, dispassionately, without either roughness or solicitude, the ruum put him back on the ground. When he opened his eyes, some seconds later, the sphere was rolling away. Watching it go, he sobbed dryly.
It seemed a matter of moments only, before he heard the seaplane's engine, and opened his eyes to see Walt Leonard bending over him.
Later, in the plane, 5000 feet above the valley, Walt grinned suddenly, slapped him on the back, and cried, "Jim, I can get a whirlybird, a four place job! Why, if we can snatch up just a few of thoseprehistoric lizards and things while the museum keeper's away, it's like you said - the scientists will pay us plenty."
Jim's hoolow eyes lit up. "That's the idea," he agreed. Then, bitterely: "I might just as well have stood in bed. Evidently the damned thing didn't want me at all. Maybe it wanted to know what I paid for these pants! Barely touched me, then leet go. And how I ran!"
"Yeah," Walt said. "That was damned queer. And after that marathon. I admire your guts, boy." He glanced sideways at Jim Irwin's haggard face. "That night's run cost you plenty. I figure you lost over ten pounds."
Apr. 16th, 2005 @ 03:41 pm
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| » does anyone really understand easter? |
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until my freshman year in college, I had never really thought about the origins of christian Holidays. Many traditional christian holidays are a mix of different religious celebrations; so mixed in order to allow the Roman empire to better assimalate "pagan" peoples. So, how much do you know about easter?
Easter is the holiest Christian festival, celebrating as it does the resurrection of Christ, but oddly enough cute bunnies and chocolate eggs have become its most recognized modern-day symbols.
The roots of the holiest day in the Christian calendar appear to lie in a pagan spring festival that celebrated the Anglo-Saxon goddess of fertility, known as Eostre or Eastre.
Thanks to their notorious mating habits, hares or rabbits were held to be sacred animals to Eostre, and although no archaeological evidence has yet been unearthed, it seems the goddess was at times depicted with a hare's head.
Second-century Christians encountering such pagan rites sought therefore to incorporate them into the church's observance of the resurrection of Christ, in much the same way as Christmas was imposed on festivities marking the winter solstice.
In 325 A.D., Emperor Constantine sought to impose some order on the two festivals, convening the Council of Nicaea, which ruled that Easter should always be celebrated on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the spring equinox.
That rule exists today — except in the Orthodox Church which follows a different calendar — meaning that Easter can fall anytime between March 21 and April 25.
Over time Eostre became Easter, and as prudish religious mores swept aside earthy pagan rituals, the bunny was turned from a symbol of fertility into one of innocence.
But as the Venerable Bede (673 to 735 A.D.) — chronicler of life in Britain in the Middle Ages — observed, the pagan rituals hung on for many centuries, meaning that at times Easter was celebrated twice in one year.
Although it is uncertain when the giving of eggs became associated with Easter, they have long been symbols of life and rebirth.
Painted eggs have been found dating back to ancient Rome, while in 1200 A.D. Edward I of England is noted from royal records to have spent 18 pence on 450 eggs, which were painted in gold leaf and handed out to members of the royal family.
The custom gradually became popular, and France's King XIV even made it an institution some 500 years later, demanding that his subjects bring him the biggest eggs laid during Holy Week, while on Easter Sunday he would distribute gold-painted eggs among his courtiers and servants.
But as with all such festivals, Easter traditions vary from country to country.
In Orthodox countries such as Greece, eggs are painted red, symbolizing the blood of Christ, and cracked at midnight on Saturday heralding the resurrection of Christ.
With the passing of the centuries, the Easter bunny has also undergone a reincarnation.
The fluffy, cute bunny recognized today has its origins in the 1500s and the German Oschter Haws — a magical rabbit which German children believed would leave them a nest of eggs in the garden.
The first German and Dutch settlers brought the Easter hare to the New World and hundreds of years later, thanks to clever marketing and the growth in the chocolate trade, shop shelves now groan every year under the weight of candy rabbits and eggs.
So... holidays like easter were originally a ploy by the christian heads of the Ancient Roman Empire to better spread their own shadow over the world. Now, it's a shadow spread by candy and toy companies...
Mar. 24th, 2005 @ 12:58 pm
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The RUUm is officially no longer a band. Jon's flaked out for the last time and we've all decided that it's all for the best. So, I'm in the process of figuring out how to change the website. It will undoubtedly become much more personal, but I'm just not sure in exactly what way yet. Aside from that, I have NOT foresaken the band endeavor, but have instead switched my focus from The RUUm to Serendipitous Lease. This is my new priority; and I have to say that letting go of the RUUm has lifted a very strenuous weight off of my shoulders. I love Jon, but honestly.... he can never really make up his mind and commit to anything. Regardless of whether it be staying with us or leaving. I'm happy that he's FINALLY decided something and we can all just get on with life. Anyway, Serendipitous Lease should start playing no later than the beginning of summer. I'm already working on a show with a indie label artist out of Chicago (mission label), so that should be a good show to kick start the new movement.
To quickly dip into another vein... everyone should see "The Naked Lunch". which is the film "adaptation" to William S. Burroughs notable novel. Notice that adaptation is in quotations. That is because the book is an absolute mind fuck and the movie is truely an artistic adaptation. There are definitely some notable actors (Peter Weller aka robo cop, Ian Holm aka bilbo baggins and Roy Scheider aka Police Chief Martin Brody in Jaws just to name a few). It's crazy, and if you go into it trying to think too much or trying to think too little then you might not like it. Just watch it and let it flow through your mind as if you were trying to grasp... oh, I don't know... a pollock painting.
you'll get it
oh, and the soundtrack is AMAZING!!
Mar. 15th, 2005 @ 12:13 am
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