Back Ground Noise

Fighting his way through an intimidating jungle. Camping in the cold coal black night. Swimming against the current through a crocodile infested river. Climbing a vertical cliff with no support and in strong cross wind. Martin flips open his back pack to look for his cigarettes. Lights one. Sits on top of a 300 foot cliff with his feet dangling down. He thought its all going to be worth it. He looks at the most brilliant sunset over an untouched patch of rainforest. The sun seemed to gently come down to sleep like a deflated hot air balloon. As tired as he was he still had to put up his tent.

He slept..

Got up packed and started moving. He had his mind set. HE needed to reach the spring as soon as possible. He had no time to rest. after thrashing through another part of the jungle he saw a pack of ferocious baboons. He tried hard to avoid being detected as the baboons guard their territory fiercely. He had to run for it eventually.

He knew he was close by he saw the skull markings on the side the elephant grave yard , the old tree which looked like a giraffe and the sign read 100 mts to the spring. He started sprinting his journey was coming to an end. Elated ecstatic and mad are 3 words to be used to describe him now. His long year long travel came to an end.

He reached the spring. It looked nothing like the one he envisioned. It wasn’t grand at all. The old fool lied to him. He decided that he hates old men from bars that tell you a magnificent story about magical things and hand you a map. He hated him self.

All he was thinking was a year long journey back.
Past the ferocious baboons.. Down the vertical cliff.. Swimming through crocodile infested wa...

Martin stood there cursing the cloud..

As we waltz through the mirage that the great Orwellian world has generated for us. Its a lose lose situation. What do we believe in???

Its a mirage at the end of it. Walls of reality based on the foundation of a mirage will crumble like a building marked by the demolition squad. But we love to build walls and a roof only to see it crumble and start all over again. Why ? We love to gamble. The evolutionary process on this planet loves gambles. That's the what the essence of this planet is. Its in our genes. If the amoebae was content I wouldn't be writing this now. Lets get them out off the water it said. Lets put them on trees it said. Lets get them down it said. Opposable thumb..

We are designed not to be content. Its in our genes to want more. The current commercialism is a direct offshoot of our evolution. It all started because of extreme weather or seasons if you may. No food through out the year only during 4 months lets get all we can and save for the later months. New ipod launched lets buy it right now before its out off stock. I see a connection.

Gullible we are.

What if you could shoot a bullet right through the fabric of space and time. What if you could ride that bullet. Since you have ruptured the fabric of space and time will you ever reach the other side. Or you will just punch into the production house. With people carrying the lights and props. And what these fortune tellers actually do is read into the mind of the director.

All these ideas don't really change any thing for either you or me.

Trumpets raised. The Count passed through the little town. It is a cheerful Monday morning not later than 10.36 am. Spring is just round the corner.

People just stared on.

He is feared more than the King here. He walked proud with his swordstick. He felt divine. He knew he owned these people if not by love then by fear. He walked from his little mansion to the little pastry shop down the hill. That little pastry shop refused to pay Tax. Nobody ever refused to pay tax here. He was amused at best. His doctor advised him to walk a little every day. What better occasion to start then to collect money. Walking on the stone studded street was new to him. He never walks. Any one can see that.

Well...He reached the pastry shop. The little girl there didn't recognize him. She asked him what he wanted. He shoved her and picked up the Raspberry turnover. He took a bite into a Raspberry Turnover. The taste exploded in his mouth. This is the best he ever had. A dirty little pastry shop in his own little village that is refusing to pay tax. He couldn't understand. He stood there smiling to him self. He didn't know if he should be angry for the refusal of the tax or happy at finding such a great baker.

He was trying to focus his anger but he couldn't. This was heavenly it was as if he was in a Raspberry Turnover haven. He didn't care about any one or any thing. All he wanted to be was a Raspberry Turnover. He did not know pastry this good. After paying for the Raspberry Turnover he left.

Annoyed with himself for doing this he ordered his guards to beat a drunk on the side of the road.