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, November 25th, 2009
7:49 am	The Last of Our So-Called World Wars: Prologue 3 "They went all the way to Saturn?!" Jenny Lin's jaw was dropped, but she quickly sat upright with a playfully skeptical look. "You're bluffing." Her friend kept a straight face. "You can't read the numbers, can you." She would have tried to pretend she could, but she was still pretty tired. "Well... no, not so much." He was nonplussed. "Ms. computer hacker extraordinaire doesn't even know what she hacked, and doesn't believe her friend who does." He turned to the computer monitor. And waited. She knew where this was going. "Alright, you win. Kevin knows NASA's secret plan. Kevin helped make the A.I. that made this possible. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin." He slowly turned his head, looked her square and most seriously in her eyes, and let a smile grow in ultra slow motion across his face. Jenny popped her smile more quickly. "And Kevin is such a nice and forgiving friend, who helps his aeronautically challenged friends read codes that he helped to retrieve." He laughed. A good sign. "Alright, Jenny." She scooched up near him as he pointed at the screen. "This is spatial telemetry, this here are spatial coordinates, and this here--," he pushed a few buttons, messed with some programs that were opened, and a tiny streaming video opened up, "...is a video feed." She squinted. "Can you make it bigger?" "Watch me." ... Pixels. Of course. She smiled, and blinked her eyes at him a bunch of times. "Kevin is too nice to patronize his friends, right?" Batting her eyelashes. God, I'm so bad at this. He raised his eyebrows. "And I can do much more." And after a few keystrokes, a planet came into view. Videoed from within some... yes, a spacecraft! And then she heard voices. Her hands rose involuntarily to her mouth. "...beautiful; who knew how different it would look out our own window?" She bounced up and down. "People!" Her hands were at it now. "People are at Saturn!!!!!!!!!" She jumped up and down all over her room, involuntarily screaming with glee at certain points. Her eyes started watering at the sheer magnitude of it all. The words and the pictures were all blurring together for her now. She grabbed his shoulder. He looked up. "And the entire internet can see the same thing?" He nodded in his usual slow manner. Usual when he was being condescending, at least. But she didn't care. Jenny Lin collapsed into her hammock in the corner of her room absorbing it all. "In the middle of a recession, too." Kevin Kimawembe looked up at her. "I hadn't thought about that." He smiled, then typed something else. "What are you doing now?" she asked. "E-mailed the political blogs." Jenny sat up, provocative smile on her face. "No...." Kevin turned his face, raising his eyebrows at her. "Oh, yes." She nodded her head approvingly. Who needs high school, anyway? Being self-employed is way more fun. Jenny had just turned 16. She had never been to a day of high school in her life. Best birthday present evar! Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
7:33 am	The Last of Our So-Called World Wars: Prologue 1 April 4, 2009 In an undisclosed bedroom, Anytown USA Numbers fell across the page, and danced into her blazing chestnut eyes. Caffeine rushed through her veins as eyes danced with the numbers, filling with reflections she could barely keep up with, thoughts jumping from place to place as the glycogen metabolized into cognition. 637 n83h8348gnaos9gjjgasdgjf0wjv8hs8hfw0e = 637 She typed. ".i zi la maks. cu se zvati xacise zi" she spoke Lojbanically to her self-designed A.I. -[[OK, this is not correct Lojban, but translate: "Compile and highlight all encoded instances of 637 as just defined."]] Well, not entirely self-designed, but she tended to liked to take credit whenever she collaborated-- after all, I always do the hard work she would quip, and end up having to pay for her favors. Highlights played across cyberspace as she hopped in her semi-comfortable office chair, almost knocking the cola she'd been drinking from her cluttered desk. And closed her eyes as she almost spilled on the paper she'd been writing equations on all afternoon. Breath. But, she looked at the clock. 6:37am. Morning. 637 She closed her eyes again, forced herself to suppress a smile, took an even deeper breath, and downed the rest of her cola, blazing eyes fixed again. Tracing her finger across the page, pattern, pattern, what is th... wait! There! She saw the thread she had been looking for. A thread that stuck out. She pulled. [[Lojban for: "Compile data set 637 using equation 1-alpha-7."]] She waited. And waited and waited. *Pop* Her 8th can of cola. Coffee, tea, energy bars. B-vitamins. All spent, she needed sugar, needed caffeine. Cola. Computer. Flicker, flicker little screen.... As she nearly started nodding off, her web browser opened, and the moment she'd been waiting for over 3 years had happened. She finally hacked NASA's mainframe. Or intranet; whatever. And in the middle of a mission, no less. "Wait. NASA's not in the middle of a mission." She quickly double-checked the NASA website, space newsblogs, and Wikipedia as the excitement built up in her face, ears, hands-- And then tears of joy swept through her smiling face as she realized what she had to do. [[Lojban: "Max: send live feed to jlin RSS, continuous update."]] She e-mailed her friends. She found NASA in the middle of a secret mission. In the middle of a recession, in supposedly 'the most transparent administration in U.S. history.' And she had posted every detail about it on the internet for all to see. And her A.I. made her involvement entirely untraceable. She blew up with happiness at her computer, pointing and laughing, "Got you, Agent 637!" And she slumped sleepily back into her now too uncomfortable chair, slid smiling to the floor onto some soft thing or other, and slowly fell into a euphoric, happy sleep. *In a sing-songy thought voice* I win. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Saturday, October 31st, 2009
10:20 pm	~, Seminoe (Prologue) "Seminoe, Seminoe, Seminoe," chided the so-called 'professor' of my meta-ethics class. "That's just not how analyzing morality is done." "Yeah!" echoed many voices, voices in the outside, the class-non-room. Professor smiled, her thick-lined thin-lengthwise black glasses paralleling the top part of her spreading lipsticked happiness vacuum. "What is the right answer everyone?" "Ethics presupposes morality presupposes moral authority," echoed some of the first, some new, some missing, the class dissolving into a reverberating repetition. Professor cocked a dark, well-defined eyebrow. She was leaning forward, her almost unnaturally round face resting on her palms, which were almost clenched like fists in front of her chin. Yeah, even her hair rounded 'round her face. I don't recall ever seeing her ears... maybe she had antennae instead? "But the whole brain, used for cognitively processing reality, is an authority," someone said. Giggles reverberated here and there, like young children at the mention of bathroom language. Oh, right. I had been the one speaking. "That's not meta-ethics, Si! That's brain science!" More giggles spread. Professor looked to where the comment had come from. "Well said, er-Y." Eyes re-locked on me. Were her eyelids narrowing? "Science has no place in a philosophy class, much less a meta-ethics class. We don't even discuss philosophy here; we talk about philosophy." Her face seemed to fill the sky. Her bangs had parted like the tops of tall trees. The tops of the trees looked far away, yet sharper and more distinct than her face, which now towered over her pupils. Or maybe only over my pupils. "We discuss the will of the mind, not the 'brain,' if there truly is such a thing." More giggles. "If you cannot focus on our consensus topic, then should look elsewhere for educational intelligence." "Ooos" pervaded all my surroundings, an echo to the commanding, low, nasal voice of the one who professed, with the dark-haired hover-face looking down on me. "Perhaps Seminoe needs a remedial course in meta-metaphysics." I rolled my eyes at her positively placating prophylaxis. I remember silence during this. I don't think anyone else remembered this class that all 9 month olds had been required to take. Gavel. "Mister," Needles in eyes. "you are expelled." Iron. *thud* Heart. Pump-pump... *stop* Some combination of those. Then all I heard was the rustle of trees as I left the canopied class-designated area, and tried not to cry, tried to feel good about leaving, but the tears came until all dissolved away except birds and white noise and brightness and green. Ⓐ Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Sunday, May 3rd, 2009
10:54 pm	Lost Love and Friendship Fallen I remember you, being there. Talking... I hear you still. I wanted to hear more. And you did share. Then we saw you me again, perhaps randomly, but still there we were. "I know you." I asked. You spoke more, I listened. I spoke, we found things in common, many things. "We need to be friends now." There was no pause, and we were. But out-of-contact limited reach going for breach, but I didn't know. Only one year. And it was gone. Spiritual/mental connection, what happened there? Why did it go away? I wanted it, didn't you? And where did you go, too? Self destruction is the worst, not listening, just going, "please stop," and cut, cut, spray, and my friend is dead. Who will replace her? New voice, new name, black sheep is what you ran away from, but then turned yourself into. Why? Why? Is that such a hard question? You who killed my friend, you can bring her back to life, why do you stay? Why does SHE want you to stay? Or does she? Have you simply drowned her out? (Do you simply drown her out?) Drown(ed) her in hormones after cutting her parts apart. I still miss her; I still want to know you, woman, person. I saw your mistake. You wouldn't listen there, though you said you seek, and you seemed to seek; what was with that connection? I wish... you were here with me now. That would make this bearable. I know you're there somewhere, friend. Please. Please come back now. ©Gabriel Koulikov Current Music: Memories of who you used to be. (Comment on this)
Sunday, April 12th, 2009
1:31 am	To: my purportedly "Christian friends" You're not going to win me over with happiness when what I need is eternal life, or social visits when what I need is a Spirit-to-spirit, heart-to-heart beat. beat. What? Have you nothing else to say? Say say talk talk talk to God they say say say, but not to me. Say hey? Sometimes, but more often than not not so much omitted forget it? How can I? What for war wonder well when I'll surely be in hell, since we none know neither when/how/where we leave this dwell- ing to be far gone. Too far gone to make a difference. Am I? I think not. Do you? ...still nothing to say? Or may... ...be? Fine, be that way. Or change. Spare change will do, but love makes more cents and dollars and millions and better, since that treasure is secure, but how can there be security in silence when there is yet so much to be spoken? Take my token piece of advice, if it is even that. But don't add to my vice ad[d]vice that serves less than heart-mind-soul-strength love not full strength. Or willingness is okay, if that's all you have to spare change me you commitment =love from God's perspective, not feelings. Like sympathy. Spare small sympathies, as pathetic as they sym, like pathology symptomatic of the path to empathy empty path is all I see, because love≠emotion from God's perspective, but commitment. But willingness will do. Will you? I know. I've not been the best. That's the problem, I confess. But to get better, first step. Not imagined, not "forget it," this is real. Simple. Why can't you see that? Can you? Due duty ditto. Do you see the widow and the orphan in my eyes? Or is it a surprise? The Good Shepherd leaves the flock to find the lost sheep. You follow the Good Shepherd, don't you? So you say, but you walk away, back to the flock, your back to me. Do you think I don't see? And can He not see your clear and obvious hypocrisy? I see you. Where are you? Talking. But not to me? What if you're wrong? Hey, stop judging me, without listening, always needing to be right! But I'm not. I'll pray for you. *silence* Is there any more? Say it. No more silence, please, not any more. © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Monday, April 6th, 2009
5:09 pm	Caller ID My insides are screaming so everyone will hear. Who can I talk to? to try and figure things out to have an alternate perspective to vent to absorb I call... where is the answer? © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Sunday, February 8th, 2009
4:53 am	[[Untitled]] I feel the sand crumbling beneath me. Was it sand? I thought it was iron. And I fall falling falling seeing the death trap below. I cry, "Somebody help me!" There is some stirring, the rest falls on deaf ears. Some stirring, which yields to calm waters. And the cry echoes into the abyss, where there is no help, where is my death trap, below. SOS © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Sunday, January 4th, 2009
5:16 am	Writer's Block bike bike wake corridor semblance system systemic systematic systemization cytoplasmic endoplasm plode explode exoplasm plasma place my name in a jar where there are far reaching tapestries tap synapse caps CAPS capsize size "What's your size?" seismic Mick mix "What remix?" tics ticks tacks fax facts tracks making tracks with my bike bike frozen riding in the night nite knight knife knee knave knock shock stock till you rock hock ad hoc pock clock struck chord cord fjord schap chap cap to the frap schnapps cops wheel to the rocks 'cause I've hit my head on the Writer's Block head bang dead dang coin bank Bangkok pop drop prod shop mop flop flip pilfer fife pipe pony ride along side the hide hiding from rum foam strum pumice production value vague valve sealant ant antelope elope with hope rope choke yolk folk talk mope bait switch on-off dark light park fight stark kite lark mite what a sight seventy-six-eight-hundred dread street cred cake fed yellow meds pop wake awake make forsake sake snake bake I already said cake! Take me away bring me back move backwards hands on your head spin friend garment rend rental shoes false blues carpet news controversial views viewing you not viewing them hem fem shem the chem equilibrate fate hate? ridicule anger shake berate ate eight (quality!) stop start start start start pat pop tart where is it going? There it is. again (not again!) 8q5gyo identity identical --Oh, you! © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Thursday, December 4th, 2008
11:01 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 16 Chapter 16 "Well... I can't make any promises, but I will listen. Maybe something good can come from us even talking about it?" She scoffed, "Yeah, maybe." Sip of tea. "Cammie," I reached across the kitchen counter to her free hand. "Give this a chance." She thought for a bit, then put down her cup. She took a deep breath, and when she let it out, it was almost a sigh. "" [[incomplete]] © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
10:50 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 15 Chapter 15 We walked the rest of the to her house in trembly silence. Once she had hung up her winter clothes, she joined me in her kitchen. I heated up some more water for tea. She took a few sips. I don't think she knew where to begin. "Why didn't you come to see me until now?" She looked up at me with the saddest little puppy-dog eyes. It totally broke my heart. "Does it matter? I'm here now . . ." I didn't know if she could tell I was holding back my own tears of Wow, how I wish I had come sooner . . . . . . because she closed her eyes, and her tears came again. She put her hands to her face, "I know; I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, it's just--" "You-- were waiting for me to come to you." She poked an eye out from between her fingers. "Yes." "You know, I think that's the most honest thing you've said to me tonight." She started to get this most uncomfortable look on her face. "God," she said turning to me, "Why is it so hard to talk about this?!" "Because sometimes I see through you like no one else can . . . and other times I can't read you at all." She sat with her mouth open. Then, once she realized that were were in the middle of a conversation, she snapped herself out of her seeming reverie and stated plainly, "You know . . . yes, yes that's it exactly. You DRIVE ME CRAZY." I worked hard to hold back a sarcastic remark. Beat. "Have you had this conversation with anyone else before?" "Pfsh, no." I just looked at her. "What? Who could I possibly talk to about this who wouldn't just dismiss these as 'female issues,' or think I was crazy, or actually listen to me deeply?" That was when I could tell that she really did trust me. And that she was very glad she had me as a friend. © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
10:45 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 14 Chapter 14 I wish I had known what to do for her. She was caught in an existential quandry I myself had never considered. I had always assumed that we were in this to do good, together, as a human race. I had never thought that maybe, somehow I was manipulating people without even realizing it. But she had, of herself. So much so that she was willing to sit in the ever more frigid air crying about it. Maybe this is why she had been avoiding me this last month: maybe part of it was she was worried she might infect me more with her evil, manipulate me with her . . . "Hey," I told her, picking her up. "Hey, Cammie," she looked at me through mildly bloodshot eyes. "Listen. We," I grasped her hand, lifting it in front of us, "we are in this," shaking our hands for emphasis, "together. Okay? You are not alone." She nodded. "We're going to get up, and go home, and figure this out, okay?" She nodded, and started getting up. "Okay." © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
10:41 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 13 Chapter 13 And on and on and on, groundward. Eventually, I moved to a more supportive position, sort of next to her and behind her, my arms around her from behind. After so much time passed that we were both now more distracted by the cold, I asked, "It sounds like you've been holding that in for a long time." "Yeah, ya think?" *more sobbing* "Oh, Cammie," I said, rubbing her for warmth. "I'm so sorry I didn't notice all these struggles of yours before. You just always seemed so calm and confident, radiating your energy to others, I had no idea you yourself were being depleted." She reached up to grab my arms. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you." She stopped sobbing, and just curled up in my lap, crying silently to herself. © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
10:37 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 12 Chapter 12 We sat there until we were both cold. Cammie picked up her tea, and finished it. "It's cold; we should go home." Walking, I wrapped a scarf around my own face, and wrapped my arm around her. "Hey, Gabe? How . . ." I looked at her eyes. She was fumbling for words like she didn't know how to say this. "How . . . how do you know . . . how can . . . can you tell . . ." She started trembling. "Yeah, it really is cold--" She stepped in front of me, so I halted suddenly. "Gabe, how...," she said through squinty eyes, "What if I'm just some manipulative, evil person?" she had placed her hands flat on my chest, "Like, the more I try to love people, the more I screw things up--" her tears caught her words, and the cup that had her tea fell onto the sidewalk. I tried to console her, but she wouldn't stop crying, sobbing. I grabbed onto the sides of her arms for support, but we both sort of collapsed toward the ground. © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
10:24 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 11 Chapter 11 After some fun with microwaves and tea bags, we were walking down Cammie's street. The combination of hot tea, cold air, and exercise woke both of us up. I deeply inhaled of the tea-scented steam wafting up into the cold air, merging with the ambient fog. It was very pretty. Just like Cammie. "Thank you for tea for two." She looked up from under her many hat-scarf-coat-mitten layers, her eyes partially obscured by the mists of her tea. "Where are we going?" "Wherever," she said as nonchalantly as ever. "What were we talking about?" "Why? Does that matter?" She had this way of making the most random comments seem so profound, even the most subtle and practical questioning of assumptions. "I suppose it doesn't too much." *pause* "What do you see in that Corie chick?" That totally took me from out of nowhere. "Um . . ." Did I even know a Corie? A Corie chick?! *curiously inquisitively* "Why do you ask?" "No reason." . . . Sometimes I didn't get where she was going at all. "What do you think of this Corie chick?" *beat* She sipped some tea. "I don't think she's your type." . . . Is she getting jealous? About me and someone who I have absolutely no idea what she's talking about? "Don't worry, T, I've already forgotten her." She flashed her eyes my way, smiling a smile where you could tell her gears were turning. "Really?" "As much as you can trust me, really." "Hnh." She was smiling quite hiding-her-thoughts-wise, looking ahead again, taking another sip of tea. "You're such a bitch." She stopped walking. And looked at me, expressionless. "I seriously don't have any clue who you're talking about." She took a step toward me, like she was trying to read me. Like those medical rescue workers trying to read the dying people they went to save. She bit her lower lip. Then slowly started walking again. After I couldn't wait any longer, I had to ask, "How is it you're paying more attention to my life than even I am, when you haven't even talked with me for almost a month?" She sipped her tea. I stopped. She kept walking. I downed the rest of my tea. Looked forward. She had stopped walking a few yards ahead. I walked carefully toward her, and stopped next to her. She wrapped her scarf around her face, and started walking again. I decided to wait until she talked. But this was the longest pause so far. Eventually, we made our way to some park near her house I had seen a few times, but had never been to. There were some lampposts near a few of the benches. She picked one and started to sit down. I forcefully stopped her, and before she had time to pick a response, wiped down the dew/mist/fog-covered bench with the sleeve of my coat. Then I waited for her to take a seat. I sat close next to her in the glowing fog. At some point, she started. "I was worried about you." "You can always talk to me, you know." After a pause, she looked at me, and placed her hands on mine. "Yeah. I know now." I imagined that she smiled. I saw in the corner of my eye the ambulance drive by in the opposite direction it had been going. No flashy-lights. Crisis averted. © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
10:20 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 10 Chapter 10 We somehow knocked each other onto the floor. "Shh!" she said, still giggling, trying to control my arms. *loudly* "Parents, Cammie's wrestl--" --ling with boys in her room, with her hands covering my mouth! "Dude, you're asking for it." I grabbed her arms, and pulled them away. "What exactly am I asking for?" She hovered over me for a bit, thinking. Then she got up, saying, "Okay, Gabe, you want some T? Let's go for a walk." She grabbed some clothes out of her closet, and put them down. Beat. She indicated that I turn away, with a ridiculous, 'Um, Captain Obvious?' look on her face. "Tea. Right." I was obviously more tired than I realized. Good thing Cammie noticed. I opened the door, and lightly shut it, waiting just outside. © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
10:16 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 9 (2nd draft) Chapter 9 She opened her eyes, looking at the wall away from us. "Why do we call each other by more than one name?" I knew that answer. "Because nicknames are easier." *snicker* "Um, ya Gabe, I thunk you thmart there." Her head poked out from the Cammie-ball with a smile and twinkling eyes. "But, like, why don't you always call me Cam?" "Why don't you always call me G?" I said with my eyebrows cocked. "Well, why don't you always call me C?" "Cam, if I were only to call you one letter, I would call you T." "T?" After a moment of silence she finally got it, and slapped my arm with the back of her hand, rising. "Nerd." "So . . . why don't you always call me nerd?" as I smilingly dodged her next barrage . . . . . . which turned into the most underhanded sissy slap fight I've experienced. © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
10:00 am	Half Past Midnight: Chapter 8 (2nd draft) Chapter 8 I couldn’t help but laugh, softly though. “Well, after all that time and . . . passion, I assume you’ve done what you wanted to do.” She grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to sit up with her as she said, “That’s very perceptive of you, Mister Gabziel. I’ll have to keep my eye on you.” I had always wondered about Cammie's seeming mind-games. It was one of her most attractive features-- it was fun to mess around mentally with her. But I could never tell if she was trying to hide something, or what. "Cammie . . . it's been so long . . ." I trailed off, looking down, not sure what to say. Especially after all these things so far tonight-- She reached up and grabbed the side of my shoulder. "Hey. I'm here." It was like she never stopped smiling the most loving smile. It made me feel like we'd been together our entire absence. I got so lost in her eyes. I don't quite remember what happened next; we said a few things back and forth to each other. I looked up at her fawningly. "Oh, Cammie. You're always so encouraging." She took a long blink as she gave a subdued smile. "Thanks." My heart beat like the throb of rotating ambulance lights. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I instinctively sat up straighter, taking her hands in mine. "I'm so glad we have this time together." After some more smiling, before we fell into an awkward silence, I ran out of things to say. Yeah, Cammie. ". . . so . . ." Seriously, wha-- "I've missed you." --THAT'S what I've been wondering about. "How have you fared in my absence?" About her. "Oh, Gabe. It's been so hard for me. I hadn't really known if I could talk with you about it. That's why I've been . . ." "So difficult to connect with?" She looked up at me, wiping a tear from her face. "Yeah," she stifled an emotion-covering chuckle, "yeah, I suppose that's one way you could say it." "Oh, Cammie." I cradled her face in my hand. She was so strong and yet so delicate. "I didn't know it was so hard for you." As she closed her eyes, it merely released the tears she had been holding back. "I try, I try so hard to be strong . . . I guess I've gotten so good at it that I've fooled you. But now I think I've even started to fool myself. I don't know what to do with myself, or how to keep my feelings from overwhelming me while still coming off as . . . in control." She looked up with tear-streaked face, not bothering to wipe any more away. "I guess that's why I had been avoiding you lately." She looked down and released an ironic laugh/sigh. "I've not been a very good friend, I'm afriad." As she seemed to grasp the weight of what she had just said, the sadness engulfed her face again, and she started curling into a ball. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know how to tell you, I didn't want you to think less of me," she said all in hushed tones. I was taken aback. I didn't know she tried so hard to seem so confident with me... not just with me; she's like that with everyone. Did she think it was all an act, or something? That none of this was really her? She started rocking back and forth. "Cammie--" "No. Please no talking. Just be here." So . . . we sat. Well, I sat; she lay on her side. We sat for a long while. I started thinking after a while, why is she telling this to me? It sounds like she's been keeping this from everyone . . . like she hasn't had anyone to talk to about this. Maybe she had been avoiding me because I tend to bring people's . . . issues to the surface? I wondered if she somehow expected something from me in particular, like if I was supposed to "save her," or something, when she opened her hand, and slid it on the bed toward me. I touched her hand, and she grabbed onto my hand like she was afraid to lose me if she let go. I placed my other hand on hers. I didn't want to leave her. I started noticing how sleepy I was. Like someone drifting out of consciousness under too much strain . . . like those whom the ambulance had gone to rescue. But there is no ambulance for the soul. It was just us, together, with our common human weakness, and our common friendship. "I'm so glad that you came." I began weeping tears of joy. "I am so glad you are my friend, Ms. Camilia." That got her smiling and laughing for quite some time. © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Thursday, October 9th, 2008
8:25 am	Yom Kippur Numb. I feel numb. This is what I have decided. Numb like death; like I'm dead. Not depressed, not agitated, not aggravated, not frustrated, not anxious, not melancholy, but numb. (mixed with irrational fear, as always ways way-to-faez) Nothing feels. Nothing feels. Nothing seems like it seems it should seem. Or something. Final fantasy over a cliff heading to a new horizon rising like the sun rising at sunrise ing. Sing like poetry song. Just another other an piece of the puzzle poetry piece like no other song sung like the words of poetry sang sung piece other rung. Macho nacho numbing like borracho, or something like that, as it is difficult to explain the pain that's plain to see and difficult to seem like a seam in the tapestry of life pulled unravelled on the floor which is on fire, like the fire which once kindled my heart, spilled on the floor, consuming the life, leaving ash, ash without nerves, making me numb. Knum num nom mon mun muhn munh munb kmun kmub kbun kbum (ka-pow!) bmun nuhm num(b). That's all I could come up with (for now). © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)
Sunday, September 28th, 2008
3:21 pm	Global Insanity Short Story: You-topia, Part E-3 === "Prissa!" Prissa looked his way smiling brightly. "Hey, Talamei. How are you today?" while she walked towards him. Talamei did a double-take on life, smiling contagiously. "I've just had the most wonderful conversations with Oracle." "Really?!" Prissa beamed. She was so happy to see him. Talamei nodded, suppressing what seemed like bursting joy from bursting him into a million pieces. After a slightly awkward moment had begun to pass, Prissa spoke "Hey, well... wow. That's great! Want to talk about it?" "Actually, yeah." They walked along, neither remembering if it was inside or outside, swept up in the conversation. "...and I got to thinking, the Oracle wasn't answering all my questions, right?" "Yeah..." she said, perking up almost as Talamei had earlier. "So..." he said, deliberately not finishing his sentence. She looked at him waiting for him to finish, the incident only enhancing her joyful anticipation. "So...?" "It means Oracle... wants me to find the answers myself." She stopped walking. Stared ahead. And thought. For a while. Then looked back at him. And smiled. "W--, ah...," she said, shaking her head the whole time, trying, "...I really don't know what to say." "Say you're mocking me. Say you're happy. Please say something more soon." He kind of looked back and forth. "I've been wondering whether I should feel like a freed spirit, or a fool." As she continued to look at him, her facial expression began returning to neutral as her heart slowly broke for him. In the good way. Prissa looked at him, smiling and beaming joyfully, almost dripping like tears between two people, "I'm so happy for you, Talamei." He gave a slight snicker, looking down, then looking back at her. "Really. You're a good friend; I'm glad," she said as she started stroking his forearms nearest his shoulders. Then he had to close his eyes to keep himself from gushing extra much with the joyful tears he could not hold back, raising his own arms, enjoying the embrace. === © Gabriel Koulikov (Comment on this)