Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Gabriel Koulikov's LiveJournal:

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Wednesday, May 11th, 2033
10:38 pm	Explanation of this Site Greetings All, This blog is to display the fictional works of Gabriel Koulikov for edutainment, critique, and (mutual?) feedback. Feel free to read through and comment on whatever piques your interest. An organized "table of contents" to all the entries posted on this site can be found on the profile page. You should note that most to all of these writing projects are in various stages of completion/incompleteness. Once everything is up, I'll post major sections of writing I complete as I write. If you're someone in "the industry," or with significant interest, please let me know if anything grabs your interest enough that you would like to see it completed and published! Feel free to explore around, and let me know what you think. It is my sincere hope that you get something from these writings. Enjoy! -Gabriel Koulikov P.S. Please keep all discussion respectable and civilized. I don't mind negative comments at all, and always appreciate questions, but hostility may make me screen my comments. Other than that modicum of self-control, I do appreciate relevant comments rather than people "not commenting." Anonymous (no LJ account) commentators: I would like to ask that you please sign your post with a "name," so I can tell who's saying what. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010
3:33 pm	Global Insanity: Cleverchild; Rough summary/vision The Cleverchild Interactive AV Project: Think: Global Insanity meets Star Trek meets Ghost Writer meets an Autodidactic Symposium meets peer reviewed academic literature made understandable and integrated into daily life, with some choose-your-own-adventure and alternate reality game elements mixed in for a total life experience of truly sustainable film making! Note that my vision at this time is to make the production of this film 100% voluntaryist *and* sustainable, the ultimate entertainment challenge! -- Imagine a world: ...where computer screens are not screens, but come to life before your eyes and within your mind, with natural, highly responsive and selective interfaces... ...where humanity's present-tense apocalypse is heard across time, where people cry out for salvation from the stars, only to be cast adrift alone in the deadly void... ...where ingenuity and merit are the only standards of measure of work in a struggle for survival in the wilderness, where the only alternative is certain murder and unspeakable horrors... ...where concepts that would only adorn the depths of the most academic of journals are day-to-day parlance and up-close-and-personal real life experience... ...where science fiction is science first and fiction second (LOL! This is perhaps the greatest miracle of all!), and where fiction science is poked fun at in every possible (logical) opportunity... ...where everyone is at least trilingual, and knowing four or five languages natively is not uncommon... ...where everyone can learn any subject with quite a scope of breadth and depth in the time it takes the average person today to read a book... ...where human rationality and enterprise are matched only by their good intentions gone awry... ...where the greatest human wonders and accomplishments are contrast with the most realistic portrayals of human tragedy and depravity... ...where the worst punishment dealt to criminals is that they make a life for themselves on Earth... This is the world of Cleverchild. -- I want to use it like Ghostwriter tried to be used, to teach people certain things... in this case, a renaissance/universal man type of package, showing people of all ages how to use critical thinking, how sciences like math, physics, sociology, and psychology actually work (in a world where people take such things *most* seriously, so pretty much the opposite of academia today, and totally alien to most of our experience-- and this alienness of comprehensive rationality and utterly merit-based rewards, and the society that emerges from it, is what makes it speculative fiction indeed!), and how division of labor, family, and culture end up working. I want to slow down each of the steps of solving whatever problem they are working on at the time, with many auditory and visual cues, as well as various addenda online, so that people will have the best chance to absorb and follow along each plot arc at their own pace, with their own chosen level of interactivity. I wanted to have a TV series type of show where real science is *really* explored, where people could get their own hands on it and their minds into it, where they might actually *want to* learn all the math and physics to plot the course of the series themselves-- and actually to do it. That is, a total experience, not simply a "TV show." As such, this will most definitely not have uniform-length episodes, or a "main cast," but rather (somewhat like the TV series Heroes) highlight whatever characters and aspects that are relevant for each story-- so really a series of variable story arcs, similar to lonelygirl15 and Ghostwriter, with far more interactivity than either. I also want to make fun of traditional "science fiction" by creating a science called "ekaphysics," where everything that is not physically possible is ekaphysically possible. So, if someone from the 20th/21st century were to find their way onto the ship asking question, the only response they would truly understand would be "the ship is made of magic." I also don't like how much people absorb brainwashing in this society, particularly those who are arrogant enough to think that they're "not being brainwashed" by X multimedia! People! The less you think X is brainwashing you while still observing it, the more it *is* brainwashing you, meaning influencing your behavior in indirect ways. Therefore, this series will especially explore various sociological, historical, and cultural phenomena of relevance today, and of potential relevance tomorrow, as well as universally relevant phenomena, through the culture of this 33rd century space society. There are only 2 alien civilizations in this series, and each corresponds to a particular people group today. That's all I will say, for those who don't want to be spoiled figuring out who they are. :-) They are called the J'Naii and Lillil-Xivos. There are 2 bonus species that may be even more extra surprising to leave secret! So all those constellations in the night sky? Ever wonder what they look like up close? This ship will visit the *actual stars and constellations you know*! You may be surprised at what people have already learned that you *don't* know about them! There will also be much biology and cognitive science by the nature of the show, and teaching people critical thinking, memory, and learning skills, including learning how to learn. Some raw reality scenes may be somewhat disturbing to younger viewers/participants, but I'm aiming for an all ages audience, and plan to structure the show accordingly. It's never too late or too early (or "too busy with the main part of my life"!) to begin learning the most basic skills, and applying them to all of life. And lots of artisticness! Even more so than my other audiovisual projects. -Camera angles. -Special effects. -Character dress, dialect, mannerisms, and interactivity. -- The entire Global Insanity saga is based on a single premise: What if the most screwed up stuff possible to imagine actually happened to us here and now? And all the implications such has on/given human nature. It takes reality as it is, and screws it up to the Nth degree to point out key aspects of reality and human nature. I thought that would make an interesting premise. What resulted was several screenplay ideas, various audiovisual projects, and some short stories to fill in the relevant gaps. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Sunday, January 24th, 2010
12:53 am	Fall and flutter Fall and flutter spit and sputter function with a malfunction and malfunctions that function junction? Say but don't say say what hey 'kay please stay spray the tray wrong colors to save hay on pay day. Faction traction interaction. Mass vibrate electrochemical transaction. Single signals give the vibes to remit/transmit the fake esoteric dyes. /fraction/ Cake on the eyes. Taste the frosting. Chocolate coating goodness? Dessert words spoken. Are they token? The cake's never gone. Having your cake and eating it too? Who said it was purely up to you? Till until the field refill concealed keep still or yield no pain for real? Why fy (fly?) or fry the cells that keep you taken fakin'? no, not mistaken since that would imply something less than rationality.... Ration my reality. Same difference, yeah? Similitudinal finality, decisive coporality, purposive similarity carrotty flavor in the cake mix I now taste making haste since the blurs move too fast for me to keep still must keep up with them. Them, or me? Can I see. Yum. Cake still tastes flavor can't let it go to waste savor let it go but not yet just a little more. taste ... Esoteric isolation cosmoplasian creme-filled-pas...-ian pastry tastin' Tastes like meme. Yum fun supreme! Surprise and not familiar and different and what happened to the blurs? Maybe that's too sweet. With what is there to wash it down? Something blander? Pander, splander I meander fine over the where? Taste sake see me? you? who? Solvent sent to my merchent and bent ha, you're funny nose is runny hey! more cake why? this can't be fake rake trake trick trade treat Beat. ...what were we talking about again? Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 6th, 2010
9:23 pm	The Last of Our So-Called World Wars: Prologue 2-2 Kay Kay and Jenny dragged the blondie up the stairs, feet catching at each step. "I thought you were bad at persuading people?" Kay totally felt like he ought to start working out. "Yeah, other people. How do you think I got so bad? My dad's a total cheese ball; asking him for things is where I get all this... bad form from." Finally at the top. Turning the corner toward her room. "Got any ideas?" Kevin huffed. *drop* Jenny, breathing, faced her tall, dark, and handsome friend, smiling. "Always." *pointing* "Be a doll and sit her in a chair, will ya?" *blink blink flutter* "Yeah," Kevin sat her, pulled some ropes from his back pack. "Bad form. I buy that." He started tying her. Well. "What do you think?" Jenny looked at him all plain-faced and mysterious, like some anorexic model... only plumper. And with long, dark streaks dropping vertically from her eyes. "Um... aren't those supposed to go the other way," he indicated horizontally under his own dark eyes. She smiled like she was queen of the universe. "Nope!" So satisfied with herself! She turned back to rifled through who-knows-what secret plan while anti-magician Kevin worked his rope magic 'round their trippy-faced guest who managed to find Jenny's house. "Privacy screen!" She uprighted her distinctly fake Asian-looking screen, her one and only stereotypically Oriental-ish possession, and tried almost unsuccessfully to stretch it across her cluttered room. "No peeking!" It teetered. "Oh, yeah. This is the best plan ever." Kevin started recounting all the things he'd wished he'd gotten to do before getting arrested. "You got anything to change into?" Kevin pulled tight. "What do you mean? No. All I brought were the ropes. And, you know, the gettaway vehicle." "Oh. Well, that's okay. We'll...," she peeked tippy-toed over the top. "Improvise." She emphasized every syllable. And in such a way that Kevin knew he would regret the next hour of his life. He pulled the ropes even tighter. Then she kicked over the screen. And Kay Kay dropped his hands. And mouth. And... "Oh, yeah." He was nodding uncontrollably. "Yep. We're going to jail." He made as if to go for his cell phone. "Let me just tell my transcontinental girlfriend I'll be having a new lover..." ...for the next 10-15 years. Jenny smiled wide. "I know." She struck a dramatic pose. "Sorry for making your imaginary girly girl jealous. Now," she assumed an intimidating stance. "Let's get you dressed." Kay fell backwards to where her bed should have been for emphasis, in the overly dramatic-type way he knew captivated Jenny's attention. Jumped back up when something stabbed at his back. She scoffed, shaking her head. "Amateur." Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
9:04 pm	The Last of Our So-Called World Wars: Prologue 2-1 April 8, 2009 Suburban sprawl, USA Roberta Lincoln stood in front of a standard suburban house, looking to make sure the address matched. She pulled out her servo, twisted it into scan mode, and pointed it at the house. Seconds later, the voice of the Beta VI: "Upstairs, first room on the left." "Caught ya, cyberpunk." She walked up to the door and rang the bell. * * * "Sorry, we don't answer for solicitors." "Oh, I'm not trying to sell anything," said the finely dressed older-looking blonde. Jenny Lin arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?" "Yes," she said with a smile. "I'm a legal expert here to advise Mr. Lin on a case. Is your father home?" Jenny looked this woman up and down. Something wasn't on the level. "Can I see some identification?" "Of course!" She pulled a driver's license and a business card out of her purse. Jenny grabbed them, looked back at her, then closed the small crack of door. "Daddy?" Mr. Lin looked up from a tidy office space. "Yes, dear?" "Someone left these for me the other day. Do you recognize this woman?" He lifted his glasses, considering for a second. "No... I don't think I do." He looked up and smiled. "Daddy? I love you." She smiled and gave him a hug. "Oh, I love you too, sweetie." "Could you do me a big favor?" "Sure, dear; name it." If there was one thing Jenny was good at, it was getting what she wanted from her parents. "Kay Kay just told me about this dinner they're having at the university ballroom." She used all the body language that would make her father melt. "It's a big networking opportunity for the high uppity-ups in academia, ya know? And I was thinking... you know, I'm so young, and don't have any really professional clothes..." She paused, looking into space as if contemplating her future, then looked sweetly into his eyes. "Could you buy me a new outfit? I don't think I'll need it, but some of them might take me more seriously--" "Oh, Jenny, of course! I just need a few minutes to finish--" "Daddy..." she put her hand on his shoulder just as he was turning away. "Kay Kay didn't find out about this until just now, and he's busy the rest of the day, and wants to pick me up in an hour." She released him. "But, I know you're busy too, so I wanted to let you know, just in case you could leave," she emphasized the last two words, "right now?" She raised her eyebrows and stood on her tippy toes, almost starting to bounce until-- "All right, sweetie. Anything for you." *mutual smiles* "I'll get ready to go right away." "Great! I'll tell Kay Kay." She bolted to the front door. *peek through the hole* Yes! Still there; oh yeah, I got skills. *door opened wide* "I'm so sorry," Jenny said, handing back her ID, "my father's not home right now," now assuming a Judo fighting stance. From the hips down only, not to arouse suspicion. Arms and shoulders, at the ready. "Oh, that's too bad," the older woman looked genuinely sad. Ooo, you're good. "Let me at least write your father a message..." she said, reaching for a pen. Jenny stayed her stance. Roberta drew her pen. The two women locked eyes. For a moment, only a moment. But it was long enough. In a flash, Roberta pointed the pen at Jenny as Jenny's arm parried and flipped the silver cylinder over as two antennae sprung out... And Roberta slowly floated off into dream land... ...as she collapsed toward Jenny on her front porch. "oh..." *breath* "em..." *deeper breath* "gee...." Wow, now I'm lightheaded all of a sudden. "I'm off to the store," her dad called from the other side of the house. "See you soon pumpkin!" "Thanks, Daddy! ugh..." she fell backward into the door frame trying to hold the body that had fallen into her arms. She heard her back door close. She dragged the happy/sleepy body in through her front door, and closed the door just before her dad drove by in the car to possibly see. *phone, open, speed dial* "Kay Kay? Hey, I need you, like now. Like, now now." "What's wrong? You open multiple copies of the A.I. again?" "No," she said, rifling through this woman's purse. There's gotta be something in here. "I think," Oh God. If they weren't here for Daddy.... "There's a woman that just tried to stun me with some futuristic gizmo after unloading some major B.S. to me, and her body is collapsed in my house, and my dad'll be back in an hour." Pause. Longer pause. "I'll be right there." Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Monday, January 4th, 2010
8:21 pm	The Scientific Method: Pity those who fail to think... appropriately? "I like you Banning." "I don't mind you." They stared at each other. She closed her eyes. "You're really pretty." She opened them. "It's normal to be pretty." "Maybe." "You can close your eyes now." He did. She placed her finger on his lips. "What are you contemplating?" "Food." She chucked. He opened his eyes. "About kissing you." "Good." She took out her word pad, and began composing. He looked at her pad. Measured closer. "What are you composing?" "The things a girl like me composes." She composed. "You're pretty when you're composing." She looked at him, corners of her mouth perking. "I know." Delete that. "I mean that I'm glad you enjoy my aesthetic composing qualities." She uncrossed her legs, slowly. Slowly crossed them the other way. *inhale, arching back* She focused back on her pad. Time passed as she composed, until he looked to her pad. "What language are you composing in?" *writing* "Angle. What else would I be composing in?" "I don't recognize the characters." Pause. "They look western." She stopped once she finished her sentence, closing her pad at a reasonable speed. "I'm done with you for today. Would you care to come back tomorrow?" She slowly ran her fingers down his sides, touching at just the right pressure, producing precisely the sensations she wished him to experience. Slowly. Deliberately. Never breaking eye contact. Just as in my compositions. Then slowly back up... then back down.... "Oh... al... right," in a pleased-yet-shakey voice. She stopped, dragging her extremities just so back toward her. "Parting with you." He stood up, walked away. Turned back to her. "Partings." He left. She blinked slowly, thinking to herself. That went well. She took out her pad, and resumed her composition, wondering if anyone would even bother starting to figure her out, ever bother to start figuring her out. She liked giving them the chance, liked taking them by the hand, walking them along, liked it when they didn't know what to do next. Liked it when the left, and liked it more when they came back for more. Always walking, never getting anywhere. She wondered how the world worked, wondered how anything got done, wondered how people made decisions, how they chose what to do and what not to. Wondered and wondered and wondered and wondered and wondered. This doesn't make sense. There would have to be someone doing something somewhere that didn't involve automatic response in interaction in order to begin the whole process. She composed, speculated. But then, if there are so few, how could the world function as it does do so? She was certain, it would not function at all. What are people doing? She shook her well manicured, voluminous saffron hair. Felt pretty for a moment. But only for a moment. Because then she swallowed bitterly. Her stomach turned. She felt dark behind her eye-linered lavender eyes. Composing again. She steps into darkness; ebony consumes her. Her heart thuds arhymically. She did not like the darkness that illumined her same path forever in life at this moment, but felt a strange excitement as she intuited she might step onto the scaffolding that held up the world. Or perhaps find quite the opposite relationship. *scary inhale sigh, eyes wider than normal, hold, release, calm, heightened acute perception* She felt better about who she was, more confident than ever. Banning steps into darkness. She remembered the appropriate thing to say. "Come on; you know you like it." Looking down, she shook her head. Oh, hair. Forgot about you. And my, the universe is a strange mistress. She felt rather sad, and it took her a moment to figure out why. I'm going to pity them. She could already sense the feeling that would conclude this leg of her journey. And she didn't like it. She almost shed a real tear, but held it in once she realized it would smear her makeup. I am glad that I am alone. "I am glad that I am alone." And she truly was. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
7:23 pm	The Scientific Method: The Normal Rhythm, Inside-Out Banning floats softly. "Hm hm hm hm hm." Her heart flutters gently. "Rhythm. Beat." She reaches inside herself to find... "Art!" She loves rhythmic poetry. So appropriate. Banning folded her word pad, steadily striding through the town, head held straight, flat-tap walking to wherever she carried herself. Where to wander today? This corner looks promising. Left. *spin spin spin spin spin* *point* "That's the way!" Right. She did not wobble. She never wobbled or warped. Never tripped or stumbled. Always straight, but not rigid, flowing, but not formal. Quite... normal. So normal it would have been absurd to any who watched her the whole day. Which none did. She made sure of that. Wander, wander, wander, wander, wander. She stopped. Watched all the people, the people wandering, wondering about them and their wanderings, wondering if their lives were as wonderful as hers. They flowed by. None of them live like me. I'm experiencing everything and nothing and whatever other things while they walk, focused-- then she laughed at her own ingenuity and ingeniousness. *walk (briefly)* *sit* Word pad. She lives inside herself. *looks up* Around those who live outside. She closed her eyes, visualizing vistas of life-- her life, her friends, her chosen career, scenarios building and wavering, destroying and flattening out into the vista before her again of wandering people. She didn't care that they didn't know her. She liked it that way. A single suppressed smile later, and her words were back in her sac, slung on her shoulder, pretending to be as normal on the outside as every other wandering person. They don't wander on the outside. I do, because they wander on the inside. I never wander. And no one understands me, who I really am. She smiled for real this time. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Sunday, December 27th, 2009
3:37 pm	Purposive Fiction Why I write what I do, as I do: To communicate all I have to say to an otherwise unreceptive audience. There are many who will not hear what I have to say, but for whatever reason are okay reading it in fiction. Because I find so much written fiction boring that I feel compelled to write things so entertaining that I would want to read it. As catharsis, so to speak, from real life nonfictions, to things I think to do, but never will, to get a better understanding of people I know, to show the consequences of actions, and belief systems taken to conclusion. And everything else going into my nonfiction writings, et al multimedia, and my various interactions with others. (Comment on this)
10:37 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 26 Chapter 26 "So, conversation." She looked up again, recomposing herself. "Yeah. Right." "Don't worry. We can kiss again when I'm better." She smiled very broadly. "Just . . ." eyes closed, "say something to get us talking again, alright?" "Okay." "Good." Eyes open. [[chapter to be finished sometime]] Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
10:34 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 25 Chapter 25 "Yes. I'm wide awake now." "Hey." She smiled lovingly. Is she flushing over me? "Yeah, you kinda passed out a minute ago." I looked left, then right, then "How did you get me to your room?" "I'm a strong girl." She placed my hand on her upper arm, pressing it against it, flexing. Oh, wow. She is pretty buff now. Wow . . . it really has been a while. "I mean woman . . . yes, you called me a woman before." I didn't know what to say. "Um . . . am I really awake this time?" She shoved smelling salts to my nose. "Woah!" I backed up, they were so strong. "Yeah, I believe it! I believe you! I'm awake." And I was; boy was I awake. Like from a good night sleep. "You knocked over the ice pack I was using to keep down the swelling." She pointed to her head, then to a place on her bed. I took it, and put it to my head, awkwardly, thinking. Thinking. "Um . . . how long was I out?" "I don't know. Maybe five minutes." She turned to put down the smelling salts. "I figured, since you were breathing, it would be better to try to wake you before calling . . ." she turned back, ". . . someone." She skipped to the edge of the bed in one bound. Giddy. Hyper. "How much blood did I lose?" "Blood?" She looked at me like I was still passed out. "Oh, no, you didn't lose any blood." She lightly brisked away my ice hand from my wound. "See?" She held up a hand mirror. Turned my head for a better look. There was only a single red dot with assorted irritation, but . . . yeah, nothing enough to have been bleeding profusely through, no different clothes, no lightheadedness or throbbing pain. And it was lower down the side of my face than I remembered it. "Wait . . . five minutes since I hit my head?" "Yeah, that's what I just said." She was smiling like she was in love. I put the ice pack back to work, and turned so my legs were dangling off the bed. "Oh . . . kay." "What? Why; what did you think happened?" I looked at her, saw genuine curiosity, and looked forward. Did not want to share. "Nothing." I looked at her again, beginning to feel a little guilty. "I had a dream." "Oh?" She sat next to me, curious. "What about?" "Just . . . a conversation I thought we had." "Really?" She was really happy. "Well, I locked the door, so you know I'm serious. And that you're not going anywhere." She lay back. "So let's have a conversation. You and I." "Also, we kissed again." "Oh, Gabe dreaming of kissing his female friends," she spoke, her expression unchanged. "What else is new?" That actually got me to laugh a little. I'm glad I feel good and awake . . . minus a slight pain in the head. Slight . . . . I lay back. Turned to her, ice pack in my face. "Um, can we change spots?" "Sure." Flip. Turn again. Smile. "It was really good." "What?" "The kiss." "Yeah, it was." She smiled, euphorically looking at the ceiling. I meant the dream kiss. I looked at her more closely. Oh . . . . "I have to tell you now." She looked at me. "I did kiss you while you were sleeping." Oh . . . wow . . . . I looked up. "No wonder it was . . ." Facing her again. ". . . so . . . good." We stared at each other for too long after that. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
10:12 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 24 Chapter 24 *groan* "Welcome to the land of the living, Sleepy." Hey; I recognize that voice. I tried to move, but moving hurt. I felt cold. Like there was cold and wet on my head. "Huh?" "You hit your head." She massaged my chest with her palm. "But it's alright, Gabz. You're with me." I saw a blurry smile. The world reformed around me. Ceiling. Cammie. Lamp. I slowly tilted my neck. I was in Cammie's room. "I put an ice compress with camphor on your bump in the night." She giggled. How Inappropriate, I thought. "I've got you right where I want you." She raised her eyebrows, then started climbing on top of me. "I thought I was dead." She looked me up and down. "No, my . . . man. You are very much alive." Pause. "Breathing." Pause. "Throbbing with blood and warmth." "Wha--" She put her finger on my mouth. "Shh. Injured boy needs his rest." She spoke slowly and deliberately. Leaning in closer, closer. Warm breath. Then she was kissing me. And we were kissing. Really kissing this time. I put my hand to her hair, to her back. It was so passionate, so . . . What in the world is that smell? "Hey, you're awake!" I sat up with a start. Cammie was... not on top of me kissing. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
9:59 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 23 Chapter 23 Step, step. Walking toward my bike. Then a stumble. I must really be tired. Then another, then an arm grabs my foot, and I fall . . . . . . . . . hitting my forehead on the corner of the counter of that stupid island of a kitchen countertop in Cammie's house. "Oh, God." Ow. "Ohmygod, OHMYGOD!!! THERE'S BLOOD," her voice rising to a higher pitch than I'd ever heard. "Calm down, wailing banshee woman." But she was gone-- --then back with a fistful of towls. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," she wouldn't stop. Applying pressure to my forehead with a couple towls. "Please don't die, no, not tonight, please God." "It's not that bad," I said, trying to sit up. Blood. Wow, it's everywhere. And that's when I started feeling a little lightheaded. "Alright, Cammie, now seems a good time to start telling me the truth, from the beginning." "Truth, wha--," she caught herself. "Yeah, right! I'm calling the hospital--" I grabbed her, my own hand keeping the towels against my forehead now. "Cammie." I held her gaze for long enough where she knew I wouldn't let her go. Especially since she tried to yank free a couple times. "Notice how I'm not dying, Miss 'knife-to-my-throat.'" Some frightened sound seemed to jump through her throat. My eyes went to full tender/pleading mode. "Just tell me what is going on here!" Pause. Wow, I really am getting lightheaded. And my head really hurts! She slid down beside me. Touched the blood. Looked at it on her fingers. Like it made it more real somehow. "Okay." After she wiped away the blood, we moved into her parents living room. It was nice: couches arranged for conversation; no TV, mood lighting. She even got me a change of shirt. Perfect. "So . . ." she was really trying to hold back tears this time. "God, why is this so hard?!!" "Take your time, lady." She looked at me. "I'm not going anywhere." I smiled. Or smirked. Her lip curled. "Fuck." She looked out into space, hand on her chin. Maybe she's really thinking about something now. Something real. "Okay," she started. "You know, I don't know how to say this, so I'll just say it. I thought I loved my friends, thought I cared about them. That there was nothing I wouldn't do for them. But I think I've watched one too many mess-with-your-mind, Matrix-type movies, you know? I started thinking, 'Cam, how do you know you're not just tricking yourself that you love your friends?' At first I shrugged it off, thinking it was just skepticism or cynicism, but you know what? It never went away." She was very deliberately pronouncing the last few words. I blinked. "Never. It actually started getting worse." Her voice was catching in her throat now. "I... I started thinking of these tests, you know? How could I figure out if I really loved my friends? And, whoop-diddledy-do, I failed every last fucking one of them." She slapped her quads, rose, and started pacing. "But I wasn't defeated by this, no sir!" Now that sounded sarcastic. "I figured, 'if you don't love your friends, then just love them!' That that would solve it to everyone's satisfaction, even mine, and God's." She came alongside my seat. "And you know what?" *slam* "It didn't work!!!" Okay, she was looking a little crazed now. "No," back to pacing, "instead, I started thinking more, doing more tests, and as I thought and failed and failed and tried to change and didn't, I finally came to the only rational conclusion." She stood looking just passed me by her chair. "That I hate my friends." She swooshed to a sit on her chair again. I could feel my heartbeat in my flesh wound. I switched hands; the one was starting to go numb. Oh my; what if that's from the blood loss. Focus, Gabe. "So--" "Let me finish, will you?" That was rather snappy of her. I nodded toward her, and immediately regretted it a moment later. Not because of her, but because it doubled my head pain and discombobulation for the rest of the conversation. And I think the migraine I had later started at this point. "So, long story short, I figured I must like it here. I must want to stay here. I must prefer it here. That if I had really wanted it to be another way, there would be nothing that would stop me from getting there." She was looking away again. "That these other things-- feelings, thoughts, imagined commitment-- were just that: imagined. Flights of fancy." She turned to me again. "Not real." At this point, I lost consciousness. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
9:33 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 22 Chapter 22 "I don't know what to say." Cammie seemed genuinely shocked to be saying this. As if she had scripted the whole night, and we had finally broken so much script we were in improv mode. I got up. She stayed crouched down, looking up at me. "Trust me, Cammie." Pause for dramatic effect. "Or don't. Just pick one," my hand moved left, then right, "this game . . . it's not worth it." I took a deep breath, and made the decision to ride my bike home. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
9:25 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 21 Chapter 21 But, of course I didn't because I'm, you know, me. "What if I say that I'm leaving you forever." Her jaw slackened. Yes, that was me who spoke. It looked like she was trying to form some kind of words. "I'm playing you, Cammie." Her reaction continued. I was tired. Tired of this game, tired from lack of sleep. Just tired. Tired of all the dumb things in life, the dumb decisions we all make. The dumb accident (ha, accident) that caused whatever people to need an ambulance in the first place. Oh, God . . . and then I had a thought. We are those people. For the first time that night, I was afraid. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
9:20 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 20 Chapter 20 I didn't know it at the time, but I later found out that she had a knife-to-heart reaction regarding men crying. Like it was a sign that things were really not okay. "G-- Gabe?! Is . . . is evrh . . . what's wrong?" She knelt over me. Grabbed my hands. Pulled them away from my face. And I looked at her smiling. "Come now, Cammie? How do you know I'm not playing you." She-- I couldn't read her expressions. She was having some kind of multiple conflicting emotional reactions. "Because . . . you . . . I . . . you know, shut up!" Then she slapped me. And, what was this but her smiling about it. And it actually hurt. I couldn't tell if she slapped me too hard or too soft. "This isn't a joke, Cammie." "Oh, but it is, Gabzee. And the funniest part is, you don't know it!" "Cammie; if I give in to what you're provoking me toward--" "What? I'll end up dead on the floor, blood seeping from a knife wound in my neck?" She was really excited about something here. I was trying to stay as neutral as possible the whole time. It might have come off as passive-aggressive; I'm not sure. "No. We'll be crazy, locked up in separate cells until we whither, and die." And I didn't feel bad at all that she had put the idea in my mind, and thinking that knife-blood-death thing might actually be the only way out of this. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
9:13 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 19 Chapter 19 Oh, how I wished I had. I knelt there, my hand poised, ready to strike. I had started to move it, too. But I couldn't. What am I doing? God, I was about to slap my closest friend ever. And more than slap . . . . My knees went all bendy, and back on the floor it was my turn to cry. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
9:07 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 18 Chapter 18 And that was it. I had run out of ideas. So I finally started thinking about what she said. Trembly, teary mass always in the back of my mind, mind you. What in the world is she on about?! I turned to look at her. What kind of bundle of contradictions is this? Trust her and don't trust her and 'oh, I'm playing you and if you believe me that I'm playing you sucks to be you, 'cause you've been played'? "I don't believe you." She didn't change. "I'm going to slap you." No change. Tremble, teary, tremble. "I'm seriously going to slap you every time you say something I believe until you make me believe that I don't believe that you believe that I believe it, but won't stop until, you know, reality makes me believe that that something is true, alright?" I got up. Moved her hands away from her face. And slapped her as hard as I could. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
9:00 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 17 Chapter 17 She sat there, looking like she was remembering something sad. Then the tears stopped streaming down her eyes. And she looked at me with this very direct, determined look. "Don't trust me, Gabe. Ever. Especially when I say to trust me the most." Her lip quivered. "And," her eye did a thing. Like a sad, regretful thing. "I'm totally playing you right now," and her voice decibelled down a notch, "and you don't even know or see it," *teary* "or care." I don't remember how much time passed, or what any of us did in the interim. But when my sleepiness started coming back, I spoke. "Wanna know what I think?" She shook her head no. *whisper* "Yes." I leaned in close to her. "I think you are telling the truth." She looked into my eyes until she was convinced that I meant what I said. She then closed her eyes. "Oh, God, no . . . ." I had backed off. She started trembling. Time passed. Trembling, teary. Every once in a while she would mumble, "God, no." Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Friday, December 11th, 2009
1:33 am	~, Amyg Dala (1) View. Horizon. Light. Horizontal. Scape. Breathe. Darkness. Falling, backwards, backwards, back over words. Bright explosion enveloping life and breath and words and wards and ECSTASY. Smile bright feel hair wind blowing cooling arms spread floating high breath oxygen high spreading stretching darkness warmth brightness *shout*! Stand and run through the field unending endurance enduring and bare feet on grass and wonder and nature and happiness and "Hey!" sound. Sight: light young sandy. "Join me." Smile. Sight: up blue sky white forward grass horizon light horizontal. Spreading beyond horizontal. *thud thud thud* Running behind me. Laughter laughing lungs tickle collapse roll grass green soft pleasant lay. Breath. Tickle *giggle* fingers tickle ribs contort laugh slap *slap* skin. Stop, turn. "Hello." "Hi." Soft voice. "What's your name." "What's a name?" *laugh* "It's what people call you, silly." Eyes moving, thinking. "Different people call me different things." Stare. "Will you give me a name?" Smile. "Silly. Sil. For silly." "Hello, you, my name is Sil." "Hello silly Sil. My name is Amyg." "Am-ig." *giggle* "Amyg." "Ammyg." Eyes bright "yeah, there you go." He rises. "Can we go." Run. Run run run. Heart pounding, pounding pounding pounding *pounding*. Smaller, smaller, smaller light young sandy. "Hey, wait up friend." Turn. "My name is Sil." Tackle and tickle him fierce. Legs *pound pound thud thud thud* Tackle, roll, roll, tickle tickle tickle collapse laughing no breath no breath. Breathe! Spin world round round light spin blue spin white spin colored lights and sensations throb and wash over and light young sandy Sil silly. "I would like to know more about Sil." "What would you like to know, Amyg?" Breath, breathe, breath, mouth open, spin slowing, "Oh, where are you going, Sil." Pause, breath, breath, tilt head, watch face. "I'm going with you, Amyg." Tilt, sit up, smile, stand, arm extend "then come with me, Sil." Arm in arm. Hand in hand. Smile in smile. Light and breathy. Friends. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
12:39 am	Stone Winter, wonder, weltanschauung. How can wonder what you are? Creepy, sleepy, scary place or person, thing, or something else, following me, but it can't be if I follow you instead. I see you through my prism-glasses, as each day and month-year passes, yet you remain in my view I see you. Why won't you bid my toodeloo? Because I will not have it, have it; I have it. I have the power you have over me held in my hands as an absolute power over you. Why won't I bid you adieu? Force of habit, habit over mind, but mind must be over habit. Will I never mind. Never mind you, that is the mind I never have, but I always have the mind to change. Change my mind. Why not change my own mind. Habit, change my habit habitat habituated to this thinky tableau. But this power, it's not you. It's all my own, mine to change, change the thought/speech/action totality, integrated consistently and comprehensively along the t-axis to eternity. From here to eternity. That is the timescape that I scrape with feeling unfeeling compassion dispassionate passion passing to action to habit to destiny and legacy as the leftovers overflow to the crow(d) of those left o(ver) and those still to go. So what am I doing still writing this row? I don't honestly know. Ah, but I do. Such serve only to hide ones corruption, and impunction inopportune moment as the moments pass into passing life passes unlived passed the passes of no return. Still to turn, yet to turn all over like the soil beneath my wings, yet budding in my heat, still thudding thud thud as eternity passes. Eternity minus me equals ? E asy is what they say, but they're not me. What do I say about the day (today?) that I walk in my sleep not to keep (or to keep?) the steps stepped in path well worn, where are my footprints? Sheep are shorn; still alive? In this world, but in that street? At the gate, or by the keep? Buy the Way, is that today? Yes. Step step step to my beat. Hope to beat you there too. See ya... or we'll see. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)