eclectika

This is another installment of my "Untitled Story." The preceding portion can be found here . Gregory Santo sighed at the stack of parchment glaring at him from his desk. This latest batch of border reports would seem less daunting if it represented more than a single day. Looking around his cramped workspace revealed similar piles stacked on chairs, overflowing shelves and collecting dust in the darkened corners of his time room. The Council had assigned him the honor of serving as interim security coordinator but any comfort taken from the position being temporary faded little over five years ago. Pushing his chair away from the desk, the young acolyte stood and picked his way across the room to a leaded window. Throwing the latch, Gregory swung open the small porthole hopeful that the stacks of paper behind him would suddenly rush through it to freedom. Barely a rustle could be heard as the night air was heavy and unmoving. Father Santo sighed deeply and watched t...

Getting Along By Nabih Saliba To have patience just to listen And really slow things down So when eyes start to glisten You won’t greet them with a frown To listen is to understand Not simply wait to speak So when we lend a helping hand It’s for the thing they seek To share the pain is empathy Past understanding woe So when we offer sympathy They’ll know it’s not for show To carry someone’s burden In more than word or song Is how we’ll stop the fighting And learn to get along.

Prologue The Ingrams He remained frozen in place. The small form at his feet was barely moving but he knew nothing would be the same no matter what he chose to do next. Whether it was primal instinct or basic fear that motivated the man, Frank bent down and scooped the young child up in his arms. Holding the fragile form close to his chest, he slowly and steadily picked his way across the field toward a small shed where his wife was absorbed in mending a saddle. The old farmer could feel heat radiating off the small boy pressed against his shoulder. Fevers like this rarely ended well. He picked up his pace and finished crossing the field. Frank Ingram was a simple man. Life had always been governed by the steady rhythm of routine and he liked it that way. When some of the younger men in the town would begin to wax philosophical and debate the meaning of life or ponder the true origins of the relics strewn around the countryside, Frank would usually shrug his shoulders and ...

I've enjoyed becoming a member of  The Writer's Community on Google+. There, I've found a wonderful group of people in various stages of writing careers. One of them ( Gabriela Gotay ) shared a great post about the playlist she used for inspiration when writing her book, " The Forever Maybe ." This got me thinking about the influence of sound and music on one's writing and I thought I'd begin a series of posts titled, " Sound Advice " that essentially aims to make musical recommendations around a subject or genre of writing. The posts will provide links to the music on Amazon and brief commentary on what imagery or concepts the music conjures in my mind. Hopefully there's something that sparks the imagination along the way. Today's Sound Advice  is going to tackle "The Future." Whether this is a utopian, dystopian, near, far, alternate or projected future may influence certain aspects of the following list but all tracks e...

A single recognizer moves quietly down a forgotten corridor of structs–its destination a brightly lit gate floating 200 kilocycles ahead. Inside, a program makes the proper calculations to halt the craft before virus detection scanners pick up their presence.  Once in the right place, this program sends a signal to its user. From a terminal in San Francisco, Edward transmits an electronic address and a new mission.  Several years ago, he would not have needed to sneak around and break into a system like this.  Back then, he would just have the Master Control Program do it for him. Things are different today. No longer are the resources of Encom–one of the most infamous names in the valley–at his disposal.  Today, he's lucky his parole officer even allows him to have access to a terminal at all. Dillinger is name all but forgotten now and today that suits his purposes just fine. The recognizer remains motionless as its program finishes probing the system to...

Prologue I’ve always tried to keep things simple. You could say that my gift to the world was to simplify the many things we’ve made so complicated. When a family member or a friend had trouble with one of their gizmos, gadgets and whatnots, I’m usually the one that fields the call. Most of the time I can decipher where their problem is and explain the solution clearly and generally quickly—it really all depends on how well they listen. Imagine how difficult it must be for me now to relay the events of the past few months to you, as they have been anything but simple. I’m sure you’ve heard by now that I am somehow responsible for the giant purple ‘hole’ in the sky that now looms over Denver or the strange glowing orbs now present all around the Flatirons. Though I will explain these phenomenons, I can assure you that neither was directly caused by me. The strange reports of the creature now referred to as “The Gravel Man” are, I assure you, greatly overstated and not at all ind...

Remember... Captain Kangaroo , Sesame Street , Mr. Rogers , and The Electric Company ? Or how about waking up as early as you could to view the adventures of Mighty Mouse ? What about warming up your eyes to early Sunday morning cartoons? 'Toons such as The Groovy Ghoulies , Drak Pack , or The Robonic Stooges ? A Sunday morning may have also included clips from the Skate Birds , The Magic Door , HR Puff 'n Stuff or maybe even Dirty Dragon's Gigglesnort Hotel --that odd little show which took place in a unbelievably tall hotel steered by an old captain living in the penthouse and powered by a dragon who kept the broiler working in the basement. Nothing ring a bell yet? How about the good 'ol afternoon agenda? We start the line up watching Tom & Jerry or Bugs Bunny . Then things got real with  G-FORCE ! And as I recall it, the totally uncool alternative was the Mickey Mouse Club or the Banana Splits (I personally always loathed the perpetually happy Bra...

The Key to Happiness | by Nabih Saliba | In every soul there is a door Behind which lies that something more From friends to lovers, husbands and wives, We search for meaning in each of our lives This world moves faster every day With work to do and bills to pay It’s hard to keep our heads held high To smell the roses, touch the sky In all the noise we lose our self We place our dreams up on a shelf Our childlike wonder often goes To where, nobody really knows And so for those with everything, I bring no cash or diamond ring Instead I’ve come with something more The key to that forgotten door Be chained no more for you are free To be more than you sought or see For in you there will always be A world of possibility

Clouds surround me as I navigate the currents in the sky. My gondola turns into a headwind and I strain against the oar vainly trying to steady the only thing between me and the distant ground below. I steer left, then right, looking for a pocket of clean air. The clouds surge toward my little craft and I brace for the worst until a ray of sunlight to starboard. Pulling hard on the oar, the gondola swings quickly in the wind and enters the gap in the clouds. Carry speed from the storm behind, my craft slips easily out into open sky. Down below me, green rolling hills shoulder small towns and the arteries that connect them. I imagine settling down in one of them and begin to scour the countryside for a piece of land to call my own. Off in the distance, there seems to be a golden shimmer just before the horizon. Using my spyglass, the shimmer seems to be composed of many smaller objects moving together. As they get closer to a small town, bells begin to ring. The melody that greets me ...

Long overdue, I've decided to add another post to my paltry collection on musings. In the years since I last published anything here, may things have happened in my life. While there have been my share of missteps, I've had quite a few personal victories too. I think the break from writing has been a good one but now I believe that it's time to start things up again with this blog. Life has a way of moving quickly whether or not you're watching it go by. It doesn't seem as if a great amount of time has passed but simply looking at the last time I posted anything here tells a different tale entirely. My children have grown significantly and I'm inches away from losing my "cool" status with them–I suppose that cherishing any status with the label "cool" automatically invalidates my worthiness. I've changed careers, lost loved ones and even adopted a small dog. With so much going on, there should be plenty to share in the coming posts. ...

I saw this swami once. He told me that my life would shape the world. I hadn't thought too much about that flattering moment until today. I met a very interesting young woman this evening at dinner. My wife and I decided to try a new restaurant which recently opened and, much to my wife's delight, our server was someone she knew. It turns out that my wife and our waitress are both currently enrolled in the same Improv class. At this point, you're probably thinking that I was either entertained or annoyed by the spontaneous comedy brought forth by these two women. The truth of the matter is that I found the conversation engaging and refreshing. Rather than attempt dinner theater, our server offered intelligent conversation and witty banter. Each drink refill, course delivery or clean up brought more opportunities to explore the nature of idealism, social conventions and the never ending quest for purpose. While our waitress provided thoughtful points to ponder, it was in...

So I've spent quite a bit of time away from here. While there is a giant gap in content since my last post, I thought I'd offer up this post as a form of explaination. I've been going through a lot of changes lately. You might say I've been evolving. Yeah, I think evolve is a good word to use here. Now that my children are running the house, I have been forced to re-examine my purpose in life. It turns out, after all, that my function is to wait . To help better explain how rewarding I find the act of waiting, allow me to first define the term— wait: to assume a form of stasis whereby one remains open to additional instruction while maintaining an active queue of established tasks for prompt execution after stasis has been terminated but before anyone notices that nothing was accomplished during the time stasis was being observed. I find it interesting that as primitive beings we were physical creatures of action. Almost as if we were sharks—the ceasing of movemen...

My Friend, Warm, yet I remain cold. Calm, yet I grow upset. I long to be around you. I wish upon you happiness. I know you've always brought me bliss, But friend, I now must tell you this : Something now between us comes; I fear 'tis all because of me. The things which bring you happiness, leave for me the sad. The things which bring you trauma, tempt to make me glad. "Oh God I pray to be a friend-- to cherish and to hold, The person who to me shall be the purest of a mold!" But something grows from deep within-- It strives to blur my vision. You see my friend, I've not been me. For I've contracted... ... Jealousy .

i think i am dead. i believe they killed me but i can still feel it. i can feel its heartless beat, gaze, and breath upon my carcass. It did this to me—it's what left me here. It's what calls the shots, watches your moves and pronounces judgment. i hate it, but i obey its call anyway . . . George Larmer stared into his square mirror on the morning of Public Festival. He studied his face. It wasn't as if he expected to see anything new, but he couldn't help but hope. Form his hairline, past the bridge of his nose and down to his chin his eyes would follow. George found nothing more than a long overdue zit, which was of no consequence to him. George's facial self-examination could have well lasted throughout the day if it had not been for the uninvited entrance of his phlegmatic dog Camus. Camus did not stay long, but simply eyed George for a minute and sauntered off. George always felt uneasy in his dog's presence, as if he were being scrutinized but it w...