Our story today, Hath Crowned Me, the twenty-first in Aberrant, is very much a true story, and one that happened to me. Even though I have no evidence for the magick portrayed in this story, I still chose to write it, if just to share the wonder. Also, by writing this story, I am in fact providing evidence, albeit anecdotal, but evidence nonetheless. After all, in civil law great reliance is placed upon affidavits as evidence, so consider this story then just an unsworn affidavit.
There are a few other stories in Aberrant where I portray magickal events that I witnessed. These, again, I consider to be unsworn affidavits. I have told friends about these magickal adventures but they don't tease me about it. In fact, they seem to take me at my word.
Anyway, the magick experienced in Hath Crowned Me, is fairly typical of the magick that I witnessed while I was homeless and destitute for five years, and they were incidents that always caused me wonder in that formerly sorry state. I still feel fortunate for witnessing these magicks.
Saturday, October 14, 2017
Sunday, October 1, 2017
A Novel Quest
Well, everybody, in Sydney, today, it is the first day of daylight savings, which I associate with summer being a whisker away. We will have a good party by talking about the twentieth story in Aberrant, entitled, A New Quest. This story I wrote simply to show off a solution to an ancient conundrum, or saying, really, that one can not get blood from a stone. I have figured out how to in fact get said blood from said stone, and this solution more or less spontaneously occurred to me suddenly one day, without prompting, during my former homeless destitution.
This fascination with ancient problems and riddles (like if a tree falls in an empty forest does it make a sound?) has been with me most of my forty-five years and I have found solutions to all of them. Not only that but sundry academics I've met over the decades have confirmed my solution(s.) I have actually published a book with all these ancient questions answered, entitled, These Many Voices (not to be confused with my These Many, Many Voices, which is a collection of short stories, not a work of non-fiction), but I warn you that if you do get a copy please be aware that it was written in largely a psychotic state, and is thus a tad disjointed. I have gone back to clear up the book, but have misplaced the digital mastercopy, and so have had to retype the whole thing from my hard-copy. I gave up the job half way through though because it was very tedious. I will get back to it though but might get my printer to convert the hard-copy into a digital Word file. That'll be a whole lot easier.
Anyway, my manner of how to get blood from a stone I think you will all find reasonable, and cogently argued, but I must warn you the ending of this short story's novel quest is darkly tinged. Still, I hope you enjoy the story.
This fascination with ancient problems and riddles (like if a tree falls in an empty forest does it make a sound?) has been with me most of my forty-five years and I have found solutions to all of them. Not only that but sundry academics I've met over the decades have confirmed my solution(s.) I have actually published a book with all these ancient questions answered, entitled, These Many Voices (not to be confused with my These Many, Many Voices, which is a collection of short stories, not a work of non-fiction), but I warn you that if you do get a copy please be aware that it was written in largely a psychotic state, and is thus a tad disjointed. I have gone back to clear up the book, but have misplaced the digital mastercopy, and so have had to retype the whole thing from my hard-copy. I gave up the job half way through though because it was very tedious. I will get back to it though but might get my printer to convert the hard-copy into a digital Word file. That'll be a whole lot easier.
Anyway, my manner of how to get blood from a stone I think you will all find reasonable, and cogently argued, but I must warn you the ending of this short story's novel quest is darkly tinged. Still, I hope you enjoy the story.
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Even More Personal
Now we are up to the nineteenth story in Aberrant, entitled, Likewise Curious. This story is in my top five personal favourites of all my writings, and the premise that begins the story actually happened to me. In the story, Luisa is a homeless young lass who is so bored that she decides to create something, anything, just to relieve the incredibly immense boredom and mundanity of having nothing to do in her squat. In fact, Luisa is so bored that not once does she think the task an unreasonable objective.
Luisa, without knowing how, creates this something, a bird. She did so by vaguely staring at a chimney across they way, a part of the squat she was in, watching a pigeon roosted there, vaguely wondering how to create something out of nothing. And then another pigeon, with spiky wet feathers, appeared out of nowhere beside the original pigeon Luisa had been staring at.
Like I said, Luisa's experience in creating something is exactly what happened to me, but I have absolutely no proof of it ever happening. I always thought that a great shame and eventually realised I could write a story about the experience. That's some sort of evidence. I am also willing to undertake a polygraph test in relation to the improbable events above described. Anyway, this story is one of my personal favourites because it relates a special moment of magick in a life that had been otherwise dark. I also like having proof, albeit anecdotal, that I created the Universe that came with the pigeon I created. Makes life even more personal.
Luisa, without knowing how, creates this something, a bird. She did so by vaguely staring at a chimney across they way, a part of the squat she was in, watching a pigeon roosted there, vaguely wondering how to create something out of nothing. And then another pigeon, with spiky wet feathers, appeared out of nowhere beside the original pigeon Luisa had been staring at.
Like I said, Luisa's experience in creating something is exactly what happened to me, but I have absolutely no proof of it ever happening. I always thought that a great shame and eventually realised I could write a story about the experience. That's some sort of evidence. I am also willing to undertake a polygraph test in relation to the improbable events above described. Anyway, this story is one of my personal favourites because it relates a special moment of magick in a life that had been otherwise dark. I also like having proof, albeit anecdotal, that I created the Universe that came with the pigeon I created. Makes life even more personal.
Saturday, September 2, 2017
Powerful Thoughts
Well, everybody, now we are up the eighteenth story in Aberrant Selected, entitled, Her Most Earnest Wish. This story is the result of a persistent delusion I had during the full blown stages of my schizophrenia, wandering around homeless in the inner city of Sydney. Essentially, I had become convinced that I could blow up a single thought, anyone's particular thought that I chose to explode for any reason that I chose. The only trouble with this power is that it can easily turn on itself. Thus, I was reluctant to blow up the passing thoughts of strangers on the street because it could well be one of my thoughts exploded unintentionally. And dying from an exploded thought is particularly disgusting, even though I saw no-one passing away after, on the rare occasion, I had exploded one of their thoughts.
Writing the story was fun because I enjoyed seeing just how far I have come from having crazy thoughts and erratic behaviour. I should also mention while I'm here that since the early days of my writing, thirty years ago, I have chosen to to have mainly female main characters, as most main characters, my senior high school teacher told me, are male. Thus, upon learning this, I have been practicing positive discrimination in favour of creating female main characters. The main character of the story in hand is accordingly female, and she is the only person I know who has successfully exploded a thought. She has a great power.
Writing the story was fun because I enjoyed seeing just how far I have come from having crazy thoughts and erratic behaviour. I should also mention while I'm here that since the early days of my writing, thirty years ago, I have chosen to to have mainly female main characters, as most main characters, my senior high school teacher told me, are male. Thus, upon learning this, I have been practicing positive discrimination in favour of creating female main characters. The main character of the story in hand is accordingly female, and she is the only person I know who has successfully exploded a thought. She has a great power.
Saturday, August 19, 2017
Freakin' Birds
G'day, everybody. Sorry I missed you all last week but I was a tad under the weather. It took me about a week to recover too. But I'm back to my usual chipper self, ready too to tell you about why I wrote the seventeenth story in Aberrant Selected. The story is entitled, Probably Dishonest, and is the tale of a delusional obsession that I had, back when I was homeless for five years. Basically, back then, I had become convinced that the pigeons, Myna birds, crows, and other such birds one sees hanging around the city had become my particular enemies. The were all, in fact, each one of them, my dreadful nemesis. Why I became convinced of this obvious falsity is unknown. Maybe I was jealous of the fact that the birds got food and shelter so easily. They didn't have to work, didn't have to apply for welfare. They always had someone to chirp with. All in all, those birds were having such a fantastic time just to spite me in my homelessness. Typical.
The story was very fun to write, one the the best to write from the collection, and I was bemused at myself while creating the tale that I had taken such an irrational dislike to these birds for irrational reasons. Writing the tale also highlighted the fact that where I am now, in safe housing, with a full pantry, clean water, and cleaning facilities, is very precious. This has further reinforced the fact that I will never choose again, either completely or partially, to return to that destitution. You too, I hope, will enjoy the story's irony.
The story was very fun to write, one the the best to write from the collection, and I was bemused at myself while creating the tale that I had taken such an irrational dislike to these birds for irrational reasons. Writing the tale also highlighted the fact that where I am now, in safe housing, with a full pantry, clean water, and cleaning facilities, is very precious. This has further reinforced the fact that I will never choose again, either completely or partially, to return to that destitution. You too, I hope, will enjoy the story's irony.
Saturday, July 29, 2017
An Experimental Note
Good morning, everybody, it's good to be back again, whilst also the Sydney winter seems to have ended, allowing of more play. This week we are up to the sixteenth story in Aberrant, entitled, A New Home. This story was a bit difficult for me to write, and is a good example to show you all how I come up with a story. After all, this story was written just to fill in the scheduled hours of writing, on a certain day.
This story began with an idle note in my Moleskine pocket notebook: 'An aqua coloured leaf, obviously spray painted, was the only thing disturbing the pristine pool.' Thus, one day during writing hours, whilst going through my Moleskine, I decided to use this note as an opening line. I then outlined its introduction a bit more, outlined a middle, and outlined the end. Then I got out my laptop and just wrote out the first draft of the story, using the outlines as a guide. Yet I was just filling in the hours scheduled for writing, so the tale felt a bit unnatural in the telling. I then, like all my stories, put it away for two weeks, after which I began editing it, at two hours per day over three days. Any more editing than that tends to drive me somewhat balmy.
Practically all of my stories over the past several years have begun from a note in my Moleskine notebook, which I always, whilst awake, have on my person. Each writing session begins with taking out this notebook, and then writing random sentences, or old memories, or conjectures, or something experimental. Once I have something that intrigues me, I begin expounding upon it. This week's story's genesis was from an experimental note.
Anyway, these days, after many years of practice, I have got writing short stories down to practically an automated routine. Sometimes I even think that it's too sinfully easy. But still, it's good when things come easy.
This story began with an idle note in my Moleskine pocket notebook: 'An aqua coloured leaf, obviously spray painted, was the only thing disturbing the pristine pool.' Thus, one day during writing hours, whilst going through my Moleskine, I decided to use this note as an opening line. I then outlined its introduction a bit more, outlined a middle, and outlined the end. Then I got out my laptop and just wrote out the first draft of the story, using the outlines as a guide. Yet I was just filling in the hours scheduled for writing, so the tale felt a bit unnatural in the telling. I then, like all my stories, put it away for two weeks, after which I began editing it, at two hours per day over three days. Any more editing than that tends to drive me somewhat balmy.
Practically all of my stories over the past several years have begun from a note in my Moleskine notebook, which I always, whilst awake, have on my person. Each writing session begins with taking out this notebook, and then writing random sentences, or old memories, or conjectures, or something experimental. Once I have something that intrigues me, I begin expounding upon it. This week's story's genesis was from an experimental note.
Anyway, these days, after many years of practice, I have got writing short stories down to practically an automated routine. Sometimes I even think that it's too sinfully easy. But still, it's good when things come easy.
Saturday, July 15, 2017
A Good Time
Well, hello again, everybody. I think winter has once more left Sydney. Thank God! Anyway, now we are up to the fifteenth story in Aberrant, entitled, Luna's Grace. This story I wrote as both something very fun to write, like last week's story, as well as something very serious. Let me explain.
One day, several years ago, as a result of sharing some wine with friends, I thought it would be fun to write a story where a man had a torrid, and tactile, relationship with Luna, the Moon. In fact, I thought, wouldn't it be fun if we wrote it to be pornography for women. It certainly seemed like fun.
I also wanted to write this story to briefly reflect a brief, intense, and tactile, romantic relationship that I myself had with Luna. This relationship was another of the weird things that I experienced when I was homeless, and I feel that I have accurately described in the story the intensity of my passion with Luna. She's all woman.
I still fondly recall Luna sometimes, and those times we had, and I am glad to be able to share the tale with others. After all, crazy or not, I had a good time.
One day, several years ago, as a result of sharing some wine with friends, I thought it would be fun to write a story where a man had a torrid, and tactile, relationship with Luna, the Moon. In fact, I thought, wouldn't it be fun if we wrote it to be pornography for women. It certainly seemed like fun.
I also wanted to write this story to briefly reflect a brief, intense, and tactile, romantic relationship that I myself had with Luna. This relationship was another of the weird things that I experienced when I was homeless, and I feel that I have accurately described in the story the intensity of my passion with Luna. She's all woman.
I still fondly recall Luna sometimes, and those times we had, and I am glad to be able to share the tale with others. After all, crazy or not, I had a good time.
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