A Malient View of Dogma and Cloudlesness For You.

 

 

 

Things connect...I believe...

like tiny strands on a billion-strand network

of the most delicate computer.

 

And we all can snap so easily...and break so hard.

Turns out fate enjoys freezing us cold every once in a black moon,

But Oh the...thrill and otherworldly light life takes on when you...

believe that you're going to die.

 

It's not how people expect...

that looming shadow always trailing you,

That has a physical weight almost.

Death has brushed up against me closer than normal lately,

and it's taken me on a trip: in a manner of speaking.

 

All I understand about it is that I'm glad a majority of it has passed...

what still remains is merely like an impression,

and the even greater belief that anything can and possibly will happen.

It's...

it's the sort of mad, terribly sad and furious desperation

that you see in the movie,

Blade Runner,

with the Replicants of real people.

They burn ferociously bright but die younger than any other,

and just the fact that they know they will die...

sends them into that state of mind.

 

Recklesness of a sort goes hand in hand with close encounters.

 

A light switched on,

and a Blade gently pressed to my heart...

sometimes you can't feel any of it,

Sometimes it's all there is,

and the world pales...

and the voices call.

 

 

 

I grew wings yesterday...

and flew away to a place,

Where I saw old friends,

and drank down the violet tonic

and danced in an empty pub.

 

       Oh really darlings...it was my friends' 21st birthday...and the last time I went to one of hers, we all went to a midnight screening and dress-up themed Harry Potter event. :] I know...such a dork heyy?

The dress is awesome...if I can be a gal about it :]...

Very goth and from this curious little place that I found up a narrow staircase that always

has equally curious music playing and a somehow nice but somehow off-beat scent to it.

TrashMonkey....

 

I am in love...

 

   But I dressed in my winged shoes, my dark Alice dress, my home-made wings and racoon-baby-ring eye shadows...was soo fun. :]

 

Hell Bunny...

 

A few days ago...the door to eternity opened up to me again...

as it usually does at nighttime.

But, maybe it's just that...like when I mentioned that one time that sometimes I feel like when I walk along a path, the trees and air around me and to my sides somehow...

presses in against me.

But in the case I'm referring to, it was so intense,

that I could actually pick up bits and peices of how others were and felt,

just from a brief glance or way...

and heyy, maybe I am imaging it all, but it sure feels real,

and...

Sometimes I hate it, sometimes I love it...

Because it's not so much from wanting others to just be happy and okay,

but more that if they aren't...

I pick up all they're off and pain-ridden emotions.

 

Perhaps not so melodramatic as that hehe :], but sometimes it's like that.

 

In fact, it's exactly like this movie preview I saw ages ago where the main character had the ability to see auras and shapes and presences in all these brilliant colours around certain people where no one else could.

:]

Believe what you want to believe dear friends, but there's always unexplainable things I think,

and explaining them...or trying to understand them kinda...

unravels them.

 

 

A touch, a soft breath...

Takes the wind soaring,

to a bed...a land, a place.

I once dreamt...of a red mirror room.

Each dream I'd have of it,

I'd know it was there...

Waiting for me,

Like some strangely calling land.

I'd scamper through corridors,

and down winding ways,

to Find what had eluded me...

a Spell in-bound Bound.

I walk along a path,

I walk along a bridge until I come...

To a place where I choose,

I choose to walk past the gentlemen There...

they bow to me,

With Lost Star eyes...

a Darkness that glistens and draws me in,

With soft acknowledgements and suave calls...

Yet I turn,

and they watch me pass...

Wise and yet hungry smiles on their suddenly sharp faces,

Until I am gone,

and I have lost sight...

But I continue,

And it goes round,

and further in and to...

Darker,

But it is always darker between the light and the shades.

The shades are more beautiful,

for their...

Hidden-ness.

Call, call...

and slip through the edges,

Until one can look into the mirrors hidden behind the scarlet curtains of that room,

And see oneself, ourselves...as we actually are.

 

 

 

An umbrella for you love...

Whispers, whispers.

Stay with me,

and always watch the ocean...

Because one day,

It will be where They appear.

And where we will go...

When it's edgeless,

and we're edgeless,

and we are given our Eyes...

again.

 

 

 

 

Much Love,

 

Miss CLScarlett xx



 





A Road to a Road to a Road to a Road to a Road to a Well.



It's strange...

this, wanting.

It's like I've finally been shot through with life -

like a syringe of fleuroscent candy-light...

I put my whisp-thin palms firmly-trembly against a surface,

I notice a bottle that reads Drink Me printed on its side in old cursive...

I drink it,

I put it down...

There are soon more - soon many others more - and I drink them also.

We weigh...and we weigh up the consequences of our heart and nature,

and soon we are consumed,

I feel like I'm seeing the light for the first time or the last...

and lately...

It feels more like the last than anything else.

But if it's true...if it's all true,

then I'll have realized that fate and death had never truly stopped knocking,

and hey...

they do so looove to hit me in the most unexpected -

and unguarded -

places.

Needlessly said...

It's more a detached-incredulous-relief-bitter-

making-you-want-to-scream-and-cry-and-laugh-

bewilderment.

And then there's it,

the most...

I never expected this sort of a situation to feel like

This.

You've created the greatest electricity collar...

Herr Fate,

My body a ticking time-bomb,

and the penalty...

a drop of blood for him, forced unwillingly -

and by my own hands -

more times than I can count,

So as to live.

What kind of a life is that?

No.

None.

But...

To choose,

a life lived pacifying death...

or death,

or until fate just decides,

to run his blades through.

 

Un-melody just,

the only kind...

of decent act in any state.

Is to allow this one,

to wings she grows,

and a life lived on despite the blows...

To the sorrow we will go,

Until we can turn the light on again,

and then amend,

amen...

am.

Downtrodden - beaten back...

down the old devil's track,

I'm scared...

but maybe that's the whole idea of enduring,

Of staying put,

even when you are terrified.

At least,

at least I have an exit strategy!

Bahahahahahaha!

 

My gosh I just feel reckless and wild and

I wish...

that it would storm.

That the clouds would bulge ugly and purple,

and that the lightning would shriek and tear trees apart,

and that the thunder would be so deep and long and wide...

that you can feel it trembling in the core of your spine,

and in the space between the skin of your feet and the bones there.

That the wind would blow so feircely and

with such arctic wild coldness and

clear-ness,

that the grey would be stripped from buildings,

and the smog would lift and...

the trees would bow with its' weight

and their leaves blown into spindly threads.

Like wool.

Like tall grass.

Then the rain would splinter through the clouds and...

everything,

would be washed away.

There'd be nothing...

and all the medical papers would be

washed

down-streeaaaaam,

and

the records,

and

the darkness

and

the drowsiness

would lift.

 

An endless, clear rain-water,

that would wash away all the maps and clocks and presumptions.

And I could just...

wander away,

follow a pale, cobblestoned path...

to a city by the sea,

where there are no walls,

and all things stop...

as does time,

and it all just...

Where the long road ends,

and the streets are wide

and ...

I can feel my edges again.

 

  Much Love...and know that I miss all of you, my friends out there in, :] , the 'real world'.
     Yes I know...the place I work is a cult :] .
  But please don't worry about me too much yet, all of these things are really only what my body
seems to be telling me, and...I haven't even, I don't even know if it's true.
  It might, hopefully...just be all in my head. :]

  Miss CLScarlett xx

 



Doorways into the Backwards Post Office and a Tall Tale...

Who wants to be a Fire Heart....?

 

:] Of course you do silly...it is the biggest wish and the greatest desire...

 

 

To be filled with a burning fire...or an electricity,

power upon power.

As a Fire Heart you can hear more and most definitely see more...

You are the ones who See what the Skyy sees,

The gears and mechanics that brace the night sky,

the way that stars are not merely just stars - but whole planets,

swirling and spinning at crazy-fast speeds

and with a billion techni-colour bursts of light and hues.

 

More than likely...as you grow into life as a Fire Heart,

you will grow scales...that reflect the true colour of your Inner Fire,

and they will shift and change their appearance...depending on your moods...

 

Only fear the Hunters, the crawling smiles that get too close and the fearful Black Jade...

 

 

  Harhar...I feel like all my vigour and jolliness has been sucked out of me today...mainly, it feels like a trembly sort of a day. Where I just feel flat-eyed and that I don't fit into my skin well....these are perhaps, not as bad as the days where I feel just....humid, which is often when the weather will feel humid too. But you know the feeling...when you just feel hot and stuffed in and somehow both hungry and not and thirsty and not.
  There's no definite conviction or emotion or way...but it's not peaceful either.

  I want the days where I feel a peaceful heat in my bones...and when the trees and land seems to draw closer to me wherever I walk (don't ask me to explain that either hehe). Or the days where I am bitter or the emotion is negative...because at least that's a definite emotion.

  But enough....

  Sometimes the world feels otherly.... do you ever get that?
     Say if you look up at the night sky, and it just seems so vast and wild that, you feel like it's all on the verge of moving or doing something.
   I think there's places in the world where the line between ours and some other place or dimension or presence or...I'm not sure what exactly, brush up against each other...that in certain places and situations, more things are possible and there are doooors.

  Sounds rather mad an idea? It most definitely is...I've become more and more convinced lately that in some ways...I have the crazies inside of me. What I mean by that...is that, it's an off-kilter mind-space inside of me, and sometimes what I write or say doesn't seem to make sense anymore...but really :] we're all a bit crazy aren't we?
  I just think for me, the craziness has had a chance to grow starting with the island I spent a year on...and extending in ways now. I think the isolation and way of that sort of institution-like place can really...make you go tropo...island fever hehe.

  Ah to be a bird, a heard...a shrub...don't mind the madness, it's only mildly contagious... XD

     An off-beat sensation,

Like tiny running keys...

That grows with the shadows and cracks in the walls,

A music only you can hear,

A warping of the mirror you've always held to you...

and a distaste for the obvious,

a Pin-pointed at two...

What is it called...

this adoption of mentalities?

And believe me dear friends...

I'm not really sooo mad,

Just a bit melodramatic,

Please don't take me too seriously,

but hold the reigns,

Because oneday I might...

and it will be too late,

Only for so long can one,

toy fretfully with fate...

He doesn't like to rest,

and his shadow does hound,

I'd like a respite please,

Mr. White n S...

there is no sound,

Only a shadow abiding by...

Why do greyhounds soak up the sun,

When they cannot feel the heat?

Why do I plunge myself into labyrinth's,

with full knowledge of my choice...

Maybe a flat life terrifies me,

and Maybe I'm addicted to being the victim of a dark force,

Maybe it's to find, find, find

find...

what we can with what time we are given...

Maybe it's boredom,

And that perhaps Scares me more.

 

 

  I think it takes gall and a certain strength to write (I'm not saying that I have those, and please don't think I'm boasting...), what I mean by that...is that, when you truly write, you put many parts of yourself into the stories and characters and poems and everything else. We have to be prepared for the possibility that one day someone could and probably will put two and two together and realize how we were referring to ourselves and those we know...and often how warped our viewpoint can be.
   But we have to chance it...for some absurd reason unknown to me...that we write whatever we write and then allow all those personal encoded truth-lie-tales, to be judged and beaten down as they're edited and changed.
  In some ways, by choosing to write...we're permitting the critisism of ourselves.

  Heyy, and before I go I had one crazy-ass theory yesterday that came to me...
   The ideas for stories...when they're really powerful often just come from no-where, along with all their characters. Like, for one story I wrote, I didn't have any plan to write it, I was just sitting on the couch one day and, bam...I had this burning, burning feeling inside of me...that I desperately had to start writing, and so I did...and in one week...I had the draft of a new novel. Crazyy huh?

  But my theory was that...well either there's some elite society or group that controls everything...and that part of keeping us under control is sending out to our brains all these random story ideas...like implanted memories, or planted memories...to occupy us.
  Or...well, Stephen King's theory is really nice...that stories are artifacts that we dig up. But then it could be more...like a disease. Yes, a disease or a flu.
  They float around all the in-between places...and then randomly latch onto people...that stories are living creatures, and we are merely the host through which to channel this tale.
    Ooh, that's rather creepy...they're like...aliens.

    Maybe they're sent to us from above?

    Who knows...but hey, you up there , keep sending the tales please or else, please let me catch the story bug again hehe...


  Anyways...

  Byeeeeeeee

   Miss CLScarlett xx
  

 

  

 



Mr. Green-High-and-Mighty Smoke Man and his Backwards Mirror...

Envision...

 

 

A word, a breath...a sound,

A slight shifting in leaves on the path beside you,

A changing.

 

You're walking along a silent street path,

on and on...

and as you walk, you glance up towards the skyy,

See it clothed in fairytale-like grey clouds...

Monstrous,

and as darkly billowing as a swarm of wasps,

Thick air...gloom-dripping air...

 

As you walk along, you begin to pass a row of rusted-down

red houses, with trembling eaves...

 

"Psst."

 

You pause, turn in the direction of the foreign and somehow mischievious noise.

Your eyes are caught up in the blue-black eyes of someone...something...

a creature mayhaps.

At times he - you're certain it's a he - seems to be coated in brittle shadow fur,

and at others...

he seems to gain the appearance of a dwarf-sized man in a jet-white top hat and

long, unravelling lavender pin-striped coat.

 

The world tilts...and you find your feet

crisscrossing and

unwinding...

in an effort to bring yourself closer to his side,

for a reason you cannot name...

 

"Show off...show of..." he hisses.

 

You cannot help but stare at the needle-pointed teeth between his crescent smile

 and black-dripping

claws...

that hang languidly from the tips of his fingers,

but his smile is catching and you find yourself still

and unable to leave.

 

The world quietens about you,

and you fear that it is so silent...

that anything could happen...

and that more and

 worse 

monsters could creep through the cracks on the side-walk...

than just your dwarf-wolf-man...

 

"Hey kid." he snarls.

"Seriousness is old-schooool...and we do looove, to howwl...

try not to break your train of thought,

or else it will all become denial."

 

He lifts a careful claw, to tip down his hat at you,

and you find yourself wondering...wondering,

 

"Who are you?" you say.

 

His grin stretches impossibly long...

and his eyes swarm with the shadows cast by his incredibly tall hat,

 

"I am the in-between...and the dark shades you see when you're half-

glancing dear-deary. I am that inexplicable longing that gnaws as moths

between the cracks and warbles that sit between

south-West and south-North. I am the diamond-grinder

in the smooth....

and I am in your sights today...

just as you are in mine."

 

A shiver climbs its' slow fingers up your spine...

and you turn away,

finding suddenly that you can't bare the sight of

that tell-tale-easy-difficult-grin...

when you are seized.

 

You fling your eyes back, staring down

as pain nibbles deep holes into the skin of your arm...

He smiles wider, his claws digging deeper...

and quite abruptly you can see the fur again,

and it is everywhere...

on him, on the path...and winding up your arm.

 

Consumed by the vision, you only barely here his voice murmuer into your eardrums...

into your soul.

 

"Take care, and take a few wrong paths...you're far too goody-two-shoes

for myy liking dear...

I have imparted a gift...

a coat of Imperitive-Disasociation...

and you will be cursed to

he-he...not know your own damn thoughts,

because looking through the looking glass will only prove to you how...

how...

howw...damn far your thoughts and mind have fallen from sanities-light,

and how far there still is to fall...

and that one day...

to wake up a monster when the day before...

you saw yourself as a human.

But really...

reallyyyyy.

Who can tell the difference?"

 

He releases a shocking, stabbing laugh and a cloud of bitter green smoke

floods rapidly up about your dwarf...

sucking him from view.

Your sight begins to clear and once again you realize that you are alone...

staring rather dumly at a crack in the sidewalk...

and that the only remnant of strangeness,

are the millions of thick grey fur patterns that lace your arm...

a marked apart, a mark apart.

 

 

Beware the villain who cares...

and the scream that looks back at you from the mirror.

 

Don't ignore it, and please don't keep it in.

Because if you do...oneday...

you'll realize,

that you have become the thing,

that you have hidden away.

Ignoring it...

merely gives it more privacy to latch hold.

 

 

 

  :] Heyy darlings,

 

 

       Feeling rather double-minded today, and still thinking about the future (as always Scar...).

 

   Probably...of noteworthy things in my life...I have three days in a row off from my job, which is brilliant! Just drinking ciders from morning to late at night, and writing, and reading advice for writers and so on and so forth.

   Perhaps one thing I would like to mention...is that lately I'm getting into short stories in every way. Reading Stephen King collections of them (and boyyy are they as intense as any of his other full-blown novels) as well as this gorgeous group of ones by Isobelle Carmody named: Metro Winds.

   I have always been...fascinated by tales of faerie princes and princesses...of children being taken from the human world to be cursed and held in immortal worlds where there true love searches all five corners of the earth to find them. (And yess, the earth does have five corners...I'm just yet to convince all the scientists of my theory).

   It also seems to be the case, that I'm trying to write more short stories. This Blog is a huge outlet for experimenting with that...and I think I am doing alright with it. But...of everything, I've discovered that they are so freeing and enjoyable to create...especially when you only start with a vague idea and just let improvisation take you where it will. Like the above story, or my Ice Children story that was in a previous Blog entry.

 



 

    I wish I were a cat, I wish I were in a circus...or able to disappear off the earth. I wish a lot of things...but most of all I feel happy...

 

   Harhar...just wait for it Scar...too happy and fate usually brings out the gatlin machine guns. :] Oh perish the thought that I should get too comfortable.

 

    But anyway...looking forward to the partayyyy I'm going to this sunday next (after this one coming)...for I shall be dressing up in a marvelous costume inspired by fantasy and confusion and dastardly loveliness. :]

 

 

   Much Love,

 

   Miss CLScarlett xx

 

   P.S. I have decided to add Miss to my pseudo-name if I ever get it printed on a future book of mine. So it shall be Miss C.L.Scarlett as my commonly known name. :]

 

 

  P.P.S. The best match for a person, in my humble (ahm, cough cough, humble...right) opinion, is someone whose the complete opposite to your nature. Say, if you are often gloomy thought-wise (like me...), it's good to have someone who is genuinely happy in himself or herself...himself in my case hehe. :]

 

 

 

Thinking of a certain violinist character of mine :]





 



I Broke the Eggshell...and a world leaked out...of mountains and streams...and a City made of Leaves...

 

 

   Stripped to the waist

We fall into the river

Cover your eyes

So you don't know the secret

I've been trying to hide

We held our breath

To see our names are written

On the wreck of '86

That was the year

I knew the panic was over
Yes since we found out

Since we found out

That anything could happen

   Heeere's Johnny!


    I have returned from the depths...with lies and dasterdly dreams to give away, be quick dear friends...because I seem to only have a handful or so of them up for offer.

    It's been a while hasn't it? My internet has been commiting suicide for a while and [almost thankfully], I have ten times more ideas and newbies to show to you because I haven't been able to Blog for so long...
    Of that, I FINALLY recieved my new Ideal Typewriter, all the way from Ger-maa-nyy! It's fabulous darlings, and is about as heavy as a frickin boulder hehe. I finally got it to work after a few days, and it was like...a foreign, manic-energy took over me as I began to type. You see, you really have to bang the keys down to get the ink to work clearly, and they're hard keys. So it's this constant racket of noise that ends with many tiny bruises on the tips of my fingers and I just....love it. If I didn't have work and there was no one around, I'd just type for a whole day without stopping, it just has this hold over me. It's euphoric almost. :]

   Problem seems to be...that I really don't know what to type on it. At the moment I'm practising with all my various poems and short stories, but one day I want to type up one of my novels...even the, ahm, mystery one I keep mentioning is in the works. But, it's almost as though it doesn't matter what I type, just as long as I can. :]

 

   It's also as though a path of light is expanding around me in my life. Hey...old Mr. White n S is still lurking about along with fate and the rest of my shadows, [and the jinxing], but with a lot of things...it's like I can see the road ahead, but really, who can tell what's in store for us [obviously Scar...]but...my point is, finally there feels to be more light in my life.

  This has sorta all led from the fact that lately, I've become perhaps less scared of the world beginning to end on December 21st and more concerned about what may or may not be happening in five or so years time. There's a lot of word going around that there's going to be some major lackings of resources around then in the future, and I really do believe that at some point things are going to get bad in my and any future kids I have lifetime. It worried me but...slowly a way out has been forming for a lot of people I care about, and me.

  And dear friends, I know it's gonna kill you for me to say what I'm about to say, but I can't really tell you what exactly that way out is. We need to be careful...and even moreso...to wake up.

 

   What you may ask, do I mean by that?

 

   Just, if you would, think about it for a moment. Doesn't it feel, or rather, I can't be the only one who feels like I'm just walking through a dream in life, pushing out the daily work-and-play-grind and paving out a life here...

  

   It's like if you drive past a row of houses and glance inside...around 5pm, and each family or person [or most families], are just sitting and watching TV. We get up, and all go to work...whatever that time might be. Come home, drink or do whatever to try and unwind and...it's like being robots surely.
  I'm mainly worried that one day, something will happen and we'll all just be so deep in our sleep-zommbie routines and lives that it will near blow out our hearts and minds. Maybe we need that...or maybe we should try and start waking up.

  :] Don't mean to be all doom-and-gloom, especially on one of my first Blog entries in a month or so, but I just wanted to write down where my mind is lately. I have plenty of ideas for this coming time [if it happens], and I think I finally feel more hope, as strange as that sounds.

    Ah and on lighter notes (and with my mention to the path of light up above), I believe another item on my end-of-world list may be close to being crossed off. I think...I may be experiencing a love, of a sort...or rather an innocence of heart, for the first time in a long time. Ahm, I may or may not...have become quite close to someone lately, and it makes me feel...argh, like even more hope, if that's possible, hehe.

    So I spend my time, riding a shabby old red bike around the wide, sunshiny streets of where I live, dreaming of fishing at the river nearby, and being thrilled for the future, and my current routine.

    Of that, I have decided at long last to change the location of where Cara lives in my novel at the beginning. It's in Coombabah, Queensland. Why, you may ask, is that so? Well...for ages I've always had the image of where she lives floating around in my head...wide, sunny streets and a place relatively close to the ocean. Turns out, that is exactly the place I have now moved to. Creepy, huh?

  Ahm, enough coincidences? My real name being somewhat similar to hers, my street being the same as hers, and...well it's getting closer to the date the novel starts with. 2013...lol.

  On a last note, dear friends...I have some fantabulous news. That is, in a few years time...I am planning to go all the way over to San Francisco, to attend The Night of Writing Dangerously Write-A-Thon. It's a single night where everyone comes in costumes, there's an open bar, food, it's in a ballroom and it runs from like 6 till midnight almost. A whole evening of crazy writing, and there's so many prizes available and...my gosh it has become the pinpoint of my future, so, ahm...world, please don't damn-well end before then please...

   Here's a link to the information page on it, if you are - like me - a writer who is very, very curious:

    http://nanowrimo.org/en/writeathon

     I will lastly leave you with this music video of a song that's been drifting around my head for the last couple of days...'Anything Could Happen' by Ellie Goulding.

     Much love, and the promise of Blogging more soon....

     Miss CLScarlett xx

    

P.S. If you're looking for a gorgeous read, try Metro Winds by Isobelle Carmody...