05-15-2008

------work in progress----
this is what i have of the story so far. this will take me a few more nights to complete.

" As time slipped on, I wondered what was beyond this great void, of timeless and effortless existence. What made everything worth while. While the moon changed its many faces, why the currents of the ocean swayed. Countless hours, many tears and some ounces of blood being spilled, over these seemingly pathetic ideas or troubles rather.

As my mind drew closer to personal turmoil. I was reminded of a story my grandfather once told me. My grandfather Icarus, was a very stubborn, timeless and weary man. He had a overwhelming addiction to Ether, which plagued his now crippled and broken down frame. We were sitting in his old living room, when he randomly burst out into what at first I thought was incoherent rambling. But as I listened on, everything fell in place and his words seemed to flow effortless from his desert cracked lips. “Once, in a forest in a desolate area of Siberia, a man traveled, wondering through the green haze...in search of answers that lay beyond the wisdom of the wise old oaks that tower over his skull, or the brown, gritty soil beneath his weathered soles. This man, named Freud, wandered aimlessly through many villages and small towns, asking the town elder, various questions that as far as the “elders” were concerned were not poignant nor relevant to anything or anyone. But yet on, he pressed, asking questions, prodding...poking at every corner of their minds, every dark shadow in soul, every pagan thought. He asked, he urged he continued....”

I sit in the kitchen, looking at a half eaten bowl of cherrios. Looking at my milk soaked spoon, reflect the plum tree outside. And I had thought about my grandfather has said yesterday. Trying to dissect what he had said. Trying to find some kind of meaning in the incoherent sentences he spewed out. I still cant understand what this old man was talking about, was he even making sense? Maybe it’s the old age, maybe it’s the schizophrenia. Maybe it’s the Ether. It could be a lot of things. It was a cold night so far, I can hear the crickets play their harsh tunes, I hear te opossums scampering back and fourth. Tonight was just another night....yet my grandfathers words still resonate within my thoughts.

I wake up to what sounds like shuffling around the house. I hear what sounds like moaning, but I come to realize its my grandfather rambling. I cannot quite make out what he is really rambling about. I thought nothing of it, until I heard the name again. “Icaraus....”.
I hurry over to my grandfather, and ask him what he was talking about. He looks at me, with a very calm demeanor, tells me to take a seat. I sit, te couch is old, I can feel the springs on my buttocks, and the couch wreaks of old cigarette smoke. My grandfather takes one look at me, breathes what looks like a very painful and punishing breath. And says to me, “you are a smart child Thomas, but I still don’t think you have what it is....in your mind...to quite understand what im saying...”. I glare on, with a puzzled yet intrigued look on my face. "