i am below you all, i am above you all. part 1

ripples of water lethargically caress the shoreline of my consciousness. as they recede in the awkward ebb and flow rhythm, infantile body parts and chunks of wreckage are drawn down into the soggy brown sand, half-formed impressions, abandoned dreams, impulses and ideas, victims to the whim and unpredictable tides of my mind's ocean. underneath the once foamy surface, now almost still in this recession of mental activity, the black depths greedily grasp the empty rotting hulls of a thousand nightmares. luminescent coral spreads across these shipwrecked giants like cancer, softening the edges of the utter blackness within the empty portholes. the blackness seems infinite, staring blankly into the abyss like dead eyes never mercifully closed by the hands of the coroner. these corpses never made it onto the gurney. they lie where they were left. abandoned shells, empty vessels, on the ocean floor.

reluctantly i complete my preparations. double check the heavy gear now harnessed to my aching back, reminding myself of the small mercies of buoyancy that will reduce the load of my life-preserving equipment as soon as i cross over into the other side, the cold black emptiness of the sea. the air pumped through hoses into my mask tastes like rubber and aluminum, like the last drop from a flat can of soda. i wince as i stand, the buckles and straps cutting into my skin. with one last glance at the stars, i turn my back, relax my knees, and fall.

the impact against the unforgiving surface is like a reverse slap in the face, at once revitalizing my senses and assaulting them with frigid temperatures and crushing pressure. after a moment of readjusting to this new and hostile environment i kick my legs and angle my body downwards, beginning my descent. at first all is blackness, then the faintest of outlines manifests in the unfathomable distance, the first hints of the glowing reef, captor and curator of my failures. the rectangular patch of plastic which serves as my window into this otherworld actually begins to form frost around its rounded edges as i plow deeper into the enclosing embrace of this sub-aquatic cemetery. my glowing guide grows brighter with each writhing stroke i take. the water i pass through now is populated with miscellaneous flotsam and jetsam that scatters around and behind in my passing wake. the deeper i go, the larger the floating pieces become, some of them faintly shimmering with their own cancerous passengers. i feel the tug of a an underwater current as i pass over the opening of the yawning chasm which is home to my destination. it pulls me closer, welcoming, seducing, sinisterly, lovingly, like a murderer welcoming his prey into the theater of demise.

i straighten my body, joints and muscles rigid with the cold of the deep, and let the current draw me in. i recognize the forms of these captive giants, aglow with the wrapped appendages of their coral dungeon, this final resting place of hopeless hopes. the decaying spars and masts are part of this landscape now, as at peace here as if they themselves grew from out of the walls of this deep trench. each shadow is as vivid in my memory as they are now before me. this makeshift mausoleum is a part of my mentality, a permanent occupant of my mind. as i drop nearer and nearer to the wreck beneath me, the gauges that populate the rigging across my chest reach their redlines, warning me of the pressure under which i sink. finally my feet feel the uneven surface of a derelict deck. i rest my aching limbs for a moment, and then remove from a pouch a sample bag and small wide-bladed knife. this isn't recreation. this is a necessary task, a duty, one that i perform with nauseating regularity. like a sleepwalker, i slowly approach the nearest branch of coral. it radiates with a sickening hue, casting the already morbid scene around it under the pale green tint of poison and decay. as i reach out my knife it seems to pulse with a brighter light in anticipation of the desecration i am about to perform.

the following moments pass like the frames of a horror film, one that's been watched so many times as to assimilate itself into memory. were my eyes squeezed shut and hid behind my hands i would still see what passed before them under the murky glow. the wavering dead-looking sea grass. the glint of the knife's reflective blade. the miniature bubbles that rise from the breaking of the coral, like blood spewing from a fresh wound. and as the finger of reef that i cut floats serenely into the clear plastic bag i hold ready, out of reflex, my eyes actually do squeeze closed. a piercing shriek, like that of a woman being stabbed by a rapist, vibrates through the water around me. it's volume is deafening, it pummels my eardrums and sends involuntary spasms through my nerves. it seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, from the black dead abyss of the wrecked hulls or from the massive glowing reef itself, or from some other source beyond any discernible distance, i cannot tell. it surrounds me, seems to reach out from the depths and choke me, as if in judgement for what i have done. with sample clutched between knuckles that are probably white beneath the gloves, i kick my legs are hard and fast as i can to escape from the horrible aural onslaught. heedless of any sense of direction i simply flee from the radioactive glow of the graveyard.

even as i break the surface of the deceptively placid waters under the night sky, the shrieking continues to echo in my ears. too terrible to endure, but also too awful for my memory to let it pass. i climb back aboard my drifting vessel and hastily undo the buckles and straps that tether me to my sources of survival. as they fall clattering to the deck of the ship, i also turn and drop, face up to the cloudless night sky. a black abyss above me and below me. i lay on the razor's edge that separates infinity from infinity, gasping lungfuls of the chilly midnight air. my stomach tightens from the stress, and as quickly as i can i pull myself to my knees and crawl to the edge of my craft, retching. a thick tar-like substance splatters in droplets, staining the deck and casting new sets of ripples across the surface of the deep. it leaves an aftertaste like blood and bile. for a few minutes, i pathetically grip the rails at deck's edge and hang my face over the side of the boat, coughing and sputtering, my sides clenching, until the fit passes and leaves me empty and exhausted.

below decks, behind a sealed bulkhead, is a chamber that looks not unlike a chemist's lab. mortar and pestle sit on a table covered with glass tubes, burners, beakers, stands, other instruments and effects unrecognizable to the untrained eye. it is here that i bring my prize. now above the surface and under the harsh fluorescent lights that flicker and buzz overhead, it has lost its iridescent sheen and now has a translucent paleness, like the partly developed bones of some stillborn creature. i grind it to a fine powder and the task of isolating the compound i require from it begins.

more fits of coughing and spitting black globs of infection interrupt my work at increasing intervals. the process is a delicate and time-consuming one, but time is something that becomes a more precious commodity to someone of my condition than diamonds or oil. my pale sickly hands show a latticework of dark purple veins as they flash under the light, deftly performing this scientific exercise with the precision and speed of memorized movement. soon the process is complete and i hold the result inside a small syringe. so much trouble for such a small yield...

like a junkie, i pull the emptied needle from the crux of my arm. i absently replace it with a small bandage as the exhaustion i've held at bay until now washes over my aching body. with protest from every limb, i rise to my feet and shuffle, zombie-like, out of the lab and into a small cabin where a hard bunk welcomes me like the warm arms of a lover long missed. without even cutting the harsh overhead lights i quickly succumb to sleep...

finally, an outline

okay well this is SUPPOSED to end up being the outline for the book i want to write before i die. who knows when that will be, so i'm going to try and finish it as soon as possible. so... maybe a year? yeah, give me a year. i should hopefully have it done by december. but anyway i'm getting sidetracked. the reason i haven't started yet is because i have too many ideas and i don't know how to organize them into coherent passages that can be read alone or in sequence to improve upon the weight of their meaning. hence, an outline is needed. but all the fart sounds in the world couldn't make my head any clearer right now... sorry that's kind of an inside joke. i'm not going to explain it. anyway... i really don't know where to start, even with my outline. so what i'm going to do is i'm going to get up and pee, and then i'm going to just write nonesense until something coherent glints at me from inside all the shit on the page.
ok i'm back.
i'm also kind of dreading the thoughts of all the cleaning i need to do tomorrow... but cleaning is part of the universal balance, so i am obligated to carry it out to the best of my ability.
i'm just going to start writing words that are related to all the subjects/points i want to cover and maybe it'll push me off the diving board into the pool and i can start swimming in them.
humanity, god, universe, science, systems, society, humans, living, dying, balance, science, logic, reason, understanding.... everything. hmmm. oh, i should mention. i'm writing this entirely for my own benefit, so if you don't follow my thoughts here don't worry. i just think this looks classier than an open text document. basically, i believe every problem you encounter has a root, a source, sometimes it's hidden, but there's always one underlying principle or instance or circumstance or event or SOMETHING that caused the problem to begin with. find the source, deal with it, watch the problem disappear. that's what i want to accomplish with my book. our world today is full of problems. all of the problems were made by people. and all the problems made by people were made mostly because they didn't understand what they were doing. we are really a very stupid species... it's our smartness that makes us stupid. we spend so much time trying to be clever that we completely shut out our instincts and ignore the natural order of things, and that is when we cause problems. i want to point out the root causes of the biggest problems of today, and maybe a few people will understand what i'm getting at and live there lives a little differently. who knows. but the big topics are the ones i need to outline. i'm just not sure what order i should put them in.... i need the book to progress, i need each idea to build onto the next one, so that at the end you are buried under a tower of enlightenment. but how.... i think it should be something like Humanity -> Religion -> Science -> Society.... no that doesn't work.... I need to lead with Humanity, because being human is what it's going to be all about and it will carry through each section. sooo... humanity, society, religion, science... or science, religion... or i could just wrap both those into one section really. hmmm. a 3 parter? humans by themselves, humans as a species, humans as sentient beings in the universe. take a snapshot and then zoom out... zoom out again... zoom out again. hmmmm. okay. good start.

what do you when you're fed up with the status quo? when you realize that there are certain things in the universe that you want to be different that never will be? how do you handle it when you realize you will never EVER be satisfied with your life, because of facts of nature that exist outside of your influence? the only reason i haven't killed myself yet is because i feel like i have so much to give to this world, but now i really don't feel like giving it. since when did the world deserve anything i could offer it? where is my reward? oh, i'll be rewarded in death? then why keep them waiting. let's go.