'They are born for the solid earth, not for the water. And naturally they won't think. They are made for life, not for thought. Yes, and he who thinks, what's more, he who makes thought his business, he may go far in it, but he had bartered the solid earth for the water all the same, and one day he will drown.'
'Whoever wants to live and enjoy his life today must not be like you and me. Whoever wants music instead of noise, joy instead of pleasure, soul instead of gold, creative work instead of business,, passion instead of foolery, finds no home in this trivial world of ours.'
'Cool and unchanging is our eternal being,
Cool and star bright is our eternal laughter.'
(Extracts from Steppenwolf, by Hermann Hesse)
It was one day that I happened upon, a most peculiar gentleman as I walked along an old road...forgotten and droll. Despite the heat he wore a suite, and a top hat that stretched five metres tall. His moustache curled in circles three centimetres wide at least while his eyes hosted a disturbing gleam, between the grey colours in-between.
I stopped by him and he leant on his cane - a charming piece with the similarity of a fish - and I asked him what he was doing...perchance his name.
He grinned like a jackal and he tipped his hat, bent down to me and hissed.
"How's that?"
He paused barely a moment, eyeing me with one eye, before he embarked in a most curious style:
"I came across a crow the other day, flying against the wind. His beak pointed northward while his wing-tips to a Southward end. His eyes were a curious blue while his screech could have woken the dead, and there I stood, beholding this black flight of my new friend. So I took up my Indigo gun, finding myself quite disturbed, and aimed it between the dear birds eyes. Such as was my fortune, the wind was blowing...in a gale-like manner that night."
"But before I could shoot, the crow happened to hoot, down at me with a voice like iron:"
"Oh dear please sir, if you would allow me a second, I guarantee that you will not decide to send me to Heaven."
I laughed at this and paused my aim, giving the old feathered fellow a chance to claim.
"My dear black crow I didn't know, please do so indulge me with what you know."
Well the crow he looked, across the sky and by a chance he began to cry.
"Oh my dear good sir I have an alm, that no doctor on earth has been able to balm. It's with me each day, it's with me each night and by goodness dear sir! It's that I can't fly!"
"Oh true here I fly, before you right now...yet utter not a sound, I shall tell you how. You see my sir, it makes no mark, whether I puff or flap about. No matter what I do the wind is too strong, and I do not make progress from here or the lawn. Oh is such a credit, to the mightiness of Miss Wind, but oh dear sir, how I long to be free-winged!"
"Well I held back a moment, regarding the crow and did so decide - and you aught to know, that I really am not an indecent man - so taking in mind, I shot that crow in record time. Surely to put up with oddity is fine, yet is it humane to allow such a crime, of a foul-aired-thing that cannot fly?
"I cried for my friend, yet left that road...and did I turn back? Not once, oh no! For my deed is done and I shall not be forgiven, in fact all that is left is to progress to Heaven! Yet go I shall not, for I still have long paths to walk, but perchance you found favour, with this small talk."
With a wink and a smile, the gentleman turned from my side, and with a hastening of his heels he skipped through the fields. I watched him go, and still wondered his name, and as it began to rain I heard him bray.
"It's Mr. Denver dear friend, and beware what I said. For better is dead, an unused talent my friend."
Heehee, oh my gosh that was so fun to write! Sometimes I find that you just need to write things that have no ulterior motive and are light hearted and senseless. I think it makes for good inspiration.
Anyway, last words if you would. Fate has an even more wicked sense of humour than I first suspected (and, hint hint, do not go around claiming that fate/death and yourself are old chums.) No one is except perhaps God and saying otherwise only makes fate pick out the nasty-shock cards for you. As it seems that he likes to hit you when you have it all figured out.
Though, backtracking a bit, from what I read of the Bibliosis, apparently God and death aren't such great pals either. I mean, if that weren't true, why else would all the Bible be aimed at defeating death?
So yeah, I've decided that death and fate are to blame for everything...well except of course for the things that we bring on ourselves. Then again, I've always believed that harhar.
Music, music and wolves. :} If you're feeling wolfish like I am today, here are some wolfish things to enhance your mood:
1. Read Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse. (Book about a man who believes himself to be part wolf inside)
2. Listen to The Cage by Sonata Arctica (It's a loud song about a man who feels himself to be a wolf whose trapped from true freedom)
3. Find a steep, grassy or sandy hill - like those ones you find on really untouched beaches - bring a few of your mates and wear a crazy mismatch of wigs, capes, odd clothing and hats. Then run and jump as fast as you can down the hill, screaming and howling as you do it. Makes you feel very wolfish.
4. Watch the movie Bolto: which is about a half-wolf, half-husky outcast.
5. If you're up for a trilogy or series either read: The Wintering Trilogy: ICE, THAW, STORM by Stephen Bowkett OR Wolf Chronicles by Dorothy Hearst.
So I hope you have been utterly enlightened by this blog. :D
Until next time dear friends,
Miss CLScarlett xx
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