Nothing Is Louder Than Thought
Including writing, poetry, philosophy, youtube videos, and anything going on in my mind, I present the idea that there is nothing louder than thought.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Chasing Faith Page 2 & 3
“What…the fuck” A slip of the tongue under the breath, even the ever so peaceful priest couldn’t control himself. He was lost and every concept he had ever learned when it came to confession was just blown out of the water. Thankfully this lunatic on the other side of the screen hadn’t heard his outburst. A quick breath and a scramble to collect his thoughts, the priest gathered his wit and tried to figure out how to proceed. "I, ah – um - yes, my child. You have many heavy sins hanging over your head and God loves you and thanks you for coming to begin a new life without sin.” Abel paused here, knowing everything he was saying was without the passion he usually had. He tried to decide on a specific course of action to take but unsure of how to go about it. “You need to admit your sins to the families of your victims and to the police. If you are truly sorry for these sins you should see to it to speak to the proper authorities and reveal the locations of the bodies so their families can see to it to get a proper burial. You must give penance, you will be praying here for a long time and I can help you pray, son.” It didn’t sound at all reassuring. The priest even knew he sounded like he was completely full of shit. After a moment of silence, he questioned the man on the other side of the screen, just inches away, a question that had never been asked before, “What is thy name?” In an act of defense the sick and twisted murderer behind the screen was taken back, "My name? Why do you need my name? Isn’t that against…some law or something?" "If you are truly grateful and apologetic to God, then he must know who it is confessing to him." The quick thinking of the priest made it sound like a legitimate affair. The anonymous killer seemed to think to himself for a second before finally responding, “Well, Father knows best!” The killer was toying with him, it was obvious as a small chuckle erupted from the other side causing Abel’s stomach to turn; this was sick. “All you need to know is my name is Kane.” "Well, Kane,” the man of God searched within himself for a response, for some type of action that should be taken and began talking before it had been too long, “God loves you and wants you to attend this church daily so you can atone for your sins. We will start your journey with the act of Contrition." How pathetic. A few prayers wouldn’t change this man, nothing could change this man but incarceration, and even then he wouldn’t change, he would just be kept from doing such things. Abel was sure he wasn’t the only one in the booth who thought he was bullshitting. Quiet breathing could be heard on the other side, uninterrupted, patient. Understanding the sound, Abel spoke before Kane said anything, “if you don’t remember, you may follow after me.” And one phrase at a time, the two men sat quietly in the confession booth praying the act of Contrition, starting with the priest and ending with mimicry of what was said, it was almost surreal: a serial killer praying, following the lines after the priest. This seemed to be a once in a lifetime circumstance, especially for the small town of Elson. "My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us. In his name, my God, have mercy. “Amen” the two simultaneously spoke. Abel gave a few more short prayers before dismissing the man to pray. As he sat there, the sound of the sinner moving could be heard. Abel felt his heart pounding, the moment seemed so tense, maybe he would just leave or maybe he would just punch through the screen and claim him as the next victim. The next few moments consisted of the priest sitting there motionless, listening intensely and trying to analyze every movement and sound. The man seemed to stand, ruffling about in the booth and hovered for a moment as if trying to stare through the mesh that separated the two. The silhouette of the killer could be see, but it was impossible to tell any intimate details. Abel raised a hand to the rosary around his neck clasping a hand around it tightly and holding it close, trying to steadily breathe in and out. The next few seconds were several eternities over within that booth. And then, as if they made an agreement, the silence was broken and the man moved to the door to step out. It opened and he heard the foot echo as it loudly tapped at the hard floor beneath him, but it was only the one tap, then another one came. Abel felt the man on the other side of his personal door, his heart was in his throat, throbbing and pulsing throughout his veins with such ferocity, if this man didn’t kill him, he’d die from a heart attack – he was sure. “I know who you really are.” The voice, unwavering, spoke, and without a reply, the loud taps of his shoes against the ground were heard getting quieter and quieter as they walked away. The priest let out the longest breath as he slumped back against the wall. His heart continued to pound, now his head hurt and his entire body was tense. He prayed quietly as he wondered what to do. Should he just walk out unaffected? He was a man of God after all. He waited quietly, impatient though as he sat, his hands trembling as they rested on his knees for support. Finally, the man of God made his exit out of the booth, stepping into the dimly lit church. A quick glance and everything was still in order with one person left in the room with his head bowed at a pew. Abel took note of the figure as he made his way across the room. The man looked to be taller, at least six foot with long dark hair pulled back in a loose pony tail, with only a small curl amongst the locks that hung loosely by the side of his face. Kane’s head tilted, revealing his face to see the priest walk, and they met eyes. He had bright green eyes, shimmering emeralds with such strong contrast, they could be seen across the room. Long sleeves caught above his wrist trying their best to cover tattoos that weaved their way up and down the man’s arms but falling too short as they peaked out from under the fabric. The two exchanged just a nod before Kane looked back down, whispering prayers quietly to himself. It seemed as if he was waiting, but for what? There was more to this man than could be distinguished from this single visit but it didn't matter, Abel needed to figure out what to do and how to act accordingly. According to the sacred bond of God and man, the priest could not repeat the confessions said in confidence to anyone ever but this was something that had to be excluded from such a pact. He was pressing against his faith and that scared him but what was more important, justice or keeping the holiest of bonds? Wouldn’t God judge and give justice? Wouldn’t the monster pay for his mortal sins at some point anyway? It wasn’t his place to judge, that was God’s job, but this was just disturbing, and downright terrifying. Something about this just wasn’t right though, he had a lot of thinking to do and retired to his own chambers to pray and meditate while keeping the troubled man – Kane – on his mind.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Cross-Posting
I just got this Tumblr after my blogspot and want both to be working the same and my twitter should be connected to both. If you're interested in the other blog (it'll have the same stuff) then here are hte links
Pretty Cool Add-on
If you are a blogger I'd look into ScribeFire, it's a Google Chrome extension (there may be something similar for Firefox, and if you're using IE then you shouldn't be on the internet), but you can just click a button, write and it'll post to any blog you have automatically. Pretty nifty.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Uncomfortable Silence
Silence for some is impossible, and for this I still don't understand. What is it that keeps a person talking just because they can't stand a silence when they are around people? Whenever it's two people, often of opposite sexes, the silence becomes awkward due to them both trying to find a conversation from within them to start but having little to say. So why is the silence awkward? The silence isn't; it's the acknowledgement that both of you know you want to say something and both of you know you have nothing to say. So it isn't the silence that is awkward, it is the people making it awkward.
The people that find silence uncomfortable are the people who do not understand silence and yet, do not understand themselves. Silence is the only time that a person can look within themselves without distraction. It is the only time to reflect and contemplate. This is where the war-torn emotions come from nowadays. SO many people are consumed with noise and what looks best and what is cool that they are ignorant to silence. They don't understand what is best for them...not really. Do I understand what's best? I like to assume I do, but it's impossible not to let emotions get in the way, at least, it is at this point in time. It's hard to act when you feel the consequences will be against you, although the overall conclusion outweighs the consequences by far.
But I digress...
It is only the silence that we can find ourselves and only the silence that brings us to reality. It is improper to shun it away as we do; instead, we should embrace it. Let it consume us as we finally allow serenity to find its' way into our hearts. For until this happens, we will always be at war with ourselves.
I found a quote that goes along with what I wrote.
The quote is from 13th century poet Rumi:
"There is a way between voice and presence
where information flows.
In disciplined silence it opens.
With wandering talk it closes."
So allow yourselves to let the information flow freely through silence. Keep your mind open.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Chasing Faith Page 1
This is the first rough draft page to the novel I'm writing, hopefully it'll spark some interest.
"Forgive me father for I have sinned" It was the same line - the same pattern - every sinner spoke once they took their place in the confession booth. It was nothing new to the priest who sat patiently on the other side of the booth containing a thin wall and screen dividing it equally, but it was satisfying to be their direct channel to God. He had already given his sermon and as usual, he retreated to the booth for those who needed to relieve themselves of their sins. It was down to the last person out of a dozen others who spoke blandly about miniscule things, being meticulous about certain sins as if they had a bad case of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Father Abel was ready to relax for the rest of this beautiful Sunday afternoon, maybe even take a small walk along the trail by his house, curving through wooded area to a meadow with a creek running alongside the trail; a mystical journey that could make the non-believer wonder if there really was a creator after all. "It has been 27 years since I have last confessed." A voice stated in a quiet but stern tone. It was a voice without emotion; a voice that hadn’t felt even the smallest form of sorrow "It is good to have you back, son; the Lord smiles upon you for returning to confess your sins. What are your sins my child?" With this, the priest fell silent, allowing the man to admit his mortal sins but what came next was terrifying, with words that were twisted with what seemed to be pleasure. "I have committed twenty three acts of murder since my last confession but that’s not the point.” The statement was blunt, leaving only dead air within the booth but was interrupted with a continuation of the confession, “Five being in the last week. I have been paid thousands of dollars for some of my crimes and I have stolen thousands of dollars worth of merchandise and valuables from my victims.” The priest was wide-eyed behind the screen. Why was this man even confessing, was this a game? A joke? Did he really believe this confession and a few Hail Mary’s would rectify such tragedies? A short breath escaped his lips as he had never heard of such sins in person; it was too much like a movie, or a poorly written book. He quietly said a prayer to himself as the sinner continued. “The last five of my victims are buried in five separate locations on the outskirts of the city. One in the abandoned tire warehouse to the north, in the field to the east there are two under the large oak tree, to the west is a lovely woman whom was far too beautiful to let off so easily who now lays next to the river in the riverbank and to the south is her lover in a dumpster in an alley behind a sushi bar. For these are my sins….” A hanging moment left tension, as if on the other side of the screen whoever sat there was toying with such an innocent being. The raise in pitch was unnecessary but apparent as the next part that came was obviously spoken through a crooked grin, “and I am solemnly sorry.” There was a long silence as the priest nearly forgot to continue his part in the confession; he was brought back to reality with a single word from the confessor, "Father?"
The Beginning of Something Great
This is going to be a great spot to put my writings and things going on in my mind, you can follow me on Twitter where there's constant updates with YouTube videos I liked and random quirks from me. http://twitter.com/#!/EvansThoughts