We look for endings so we can forge new beginnings, but sometimes endings don't come. They stretch out for months and years, tendrils of continuation infiltrating attempts at new beginnings, weakening structure and resolve: the unfinished past slowly decaying an unrealized future.
"The heart and mind are fathomless places hard to navigate," he admitted. "But I don't need truth from you. Just honesty."
The honesty of an opinion or belief is defined less by the veracity behind it as its holder's willingness to let it change as more truth filters into their experience. Without that openness these views will tend towards becoming just dark expressions of ego.
"It's okay to miss people," he told her. "A perfectly normal part of life."
"Just take better aim next time, and consider higher velocity ammo."
one plotted solar trajectories
the other could find cats anywhere in an image
they met on a quiet telecommunications redundancy server
trajectory was there with friends
finder, taking a break
from whiskers, tails, and tufted ears
it was a beautiful binary romance
ones all the way down
they meshed code a few minutes later
gave birth to the loveliest algorithm
it could figure out how to rescue a cat
anywhere in the Milky Way
More enchanted by what's been lost than is yet to gain, the only futures she ever looked forward to were broken reflections of the past.
Clotho quit the Moirai when humans began splicing machine code into their DNA.
Atropos had already retired to the French coast, scissors no longer able to cut the threads passed to her, reinforced as they were with technology and science developed to levels beyond her own mystic powers.
Lachesis still measured, but now she wore teflon gloves, the soft, silky lines of life having become cold and razor sharp.
If Facebook is chiefly a way to track events and adventures, and Instagram is mainly for keeping tabs on what Brian Andreas is currently drawing, then Twitter is as much about watching the fever dreams of Jeff Noon spill out into the world as anything else.
I haven't read his newest novel yet, but I enjoyed it's predecessor, A Man of Shadows, and the short story collection Pixel Juice even more.
On the Twitters he's recently been doing bits with the tag #speedlit which adhere to the following rules:
"20 words or less
no punctuation
lower case
one line break"
I've been trying my hand at it through out the day and found it a fun exercise.
gathering the fuel of fear
from birds
mice
quantum existence engines
revving with each purr
schrodinger had no idea
wherewolves
in teflon and night vision
hunting
through the shadow of crowds
hunger imperceivable
until
unhappy
with spotify ranking
orpheus
packs lyre
coins
dog biscuits
perilous road to contract
renegotiation
do
not
turn
around
transistor cherub
dreaming of flight
bright filament arrays
unfolding
ding
honeysuckle on the cemetery wall
long yellow throats
cooing softly
let us taste
the nectar of you
neural arcing
welding
one lost memory
to another
she remembers
the fall to pandemonium
the rise
I clung to the world as long as I could, but the forces arrayed against me were greater than all my plans and strength, and eventually there was nothing holding me but the gravity of fate.
Wearwolves in lamb skin suits travel the city in fashion packs, sizing up each passerby, searching for wardrobe upgrades.
Spot will often go hunting on her own just after twilight. Slouching off into the woods once her shadow's been put to bed.
Spriggans are a favorite target of her solo adventures, and she'll leave twisted, wizened fingers for me to find next to her food bowl some mornings, letting me know she has new treasure to which I am not a party.