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Take heed as one might to a cautionary tale. We are all at some points lost. The world slows, each day extols the virtue of patience as it ages doomed, in graceful spirals. We do not often take time to think that each day brings new life and mournfully waves goodbye to old. Universal understanding of the daily routine of living, hardly inspires wholesome conceptualisations of things as they are. We forget that everything holds, it is locked in every moment, bound to endure as those things must do. The knowledge that time stops and memories eternally remain on the event horizon passes most folks by. Alas, most folks are not at all like Alan. Alan thought himself unlike the other people of Lowden End; thought himself more compassionate and understanding of the world’s brief companions than most of its inhabitants. Though this compassion was more like a parent woefully accepting that their children are not yet worth true conversation but are capable only of understanding simple things. Alan would always refer to himself in the third person as a parent talks to a child because ’I’ & ‘me’, could be anyone, Alan was Alan, not some jumped up universal pronoun. Further reflection on this linguistic preference led to the belief, that if Alan narrated his own life, then he would attain some form of omniscience about situations. Unfortunately, his awareness as a character and as a narrator often led Alan to a detachment from reality. Dutifully, Alan would remind himself that his life is not a play for his own amusement but is in fact, his only theoretical existence. Confusingly this led to the thought that if Alan so wished his existence to be amusing then so it should be.
It is this fundamental belief that first led to the creation of inspiration through the process of dissolution of reality. Dissolve reality down to its building blocks and we find a confusing maelstrom of indeterminate identities. Particles and waves, however you view them, depends solely on whether they know they are being viewed. In some cases you can half view them in order to further antagonise the understanding that one thing can be either, or either not either, as we know them. Odd to think that how something is seen can irrevocably alter its nature into that of something completely different, yet nature is what nature is. Alan has often thought about the immaterial being material, is it possible to think of a four dimensional shape moving down the road. As far as we can tell, it would in someway fold into itself, possibly it might rotate as it does so, a liquid dimension briefly dancing like flames in a vacuum before contorting into nothingness. Nothingness, alone and desolate, who would want such a life. Alan was not one for solitude, the very thought of being trapped with nothing but his own company disturbed him greatly. ‘Escape must be made from that which we are, to that which we could be’ Alan thought often enough. Though this realisation did not create much joy as he viewed it, I often thought it was quite a pleasant way of life. Kaizen, the Japanese business strategy of constant improvement was how I viewed his comment. Ideally we should strive to be the best we can, and as far as some believe, we can be Gods. Though what traits define God are a little ambiguous, at what point does one become all powerful? Is it possible for God to count to infinity? No, Alan thought it was best not to aim for being God but something a little more manageable, just a slight bit of God-ness would suffice. Being God would require a lot of effort, firstly, because one must find the meaning of life, which is by no means an easy task, Alan thought. Best just to let things take their course whilst we watch, observe and evaluate trying to enjoy life as we do so. What to make of the situation then, would one live life being amused by irony as it comes, or should one seek out amusement even if it meant leaving life behind. These two conflicting ideologies on how to best find happiness are a constant source of disrepute among those who know Alan. Amusement, laughter, and generally good times are solely what Alan defines as happiness and so with open minded ignorance he chases them. This chase and freedom led inevitably to one conclusion, Alan dies young. A belief that freedom from the body was liberation of the mind, by some philosophies was enlightenment. In practise however, it lacked a certain restraint that common folk would call common sense. So what tale of this do we endure on his fateful approach to an inevitable end? Well of course it is the most remarkable story of a letter. Not just any letter but a letter addressed to Alan himself. From himself? I ask, or about himself? We ponder if such a letter could have any real purpose. Yet, knowingly against, forwards we move to opening. Truth at best can be a fickle mistress, the contents, a shock? We are told that Alan has not been a very good boy of late, that, in fact, Alan has been an exceedingly bad boy; and, as such, Alan is in need of some readjustment. Odd to think that it is now Tuesday, when last we conversed it was Monday I thought. Now we stop and consider, what actions have been occurring that caused such a universal misunderstanding of time? Alan of course, confused by such oddities, decided it best to ignore the letter and focus on what had troubled him most. How was it now that his room was white, white and soft to the touch? I remember why we are here I thought; Alan, oblivious to my musing, proceeded to bang on the door, much as he did yesterday, and the day before that. What a funny creature Alan is to me, something so small and insignificant, a day-time character with less of the plot than your , I thought. One moment, have I forgotten something?
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AuthorI write what comes to mind when I think about writing something that is on my mind. Archives
November 2019
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