An Old Goat

His thoughts drifted like the leaves falling from the trees around him. Short, unconnected memories followed by feelings, interspersed with hopes and tiny little dreams. It wasn’t often he just let himself go, to just be, to just let the world move past. He’d always been on the run from his past, aiming for a future so vague it seemed almost mythical. He’d learned to bend reality around his fingers like a child learning to braid strings together, never stopped learning until he could weave his dreams into the world. Never did he consider himself an artist, however, for every strand in his every weave served a purpose, a higher goal than just creating something new.

But soon, it would be time to start his grandest project yet. Enough with the little tricks, the years of endless refinement and practice. He’d been a street magician for decades,  travelling the lands and amazing the people with sleights of hand that twisted their perception, beguiled their senses and sometimes betrayed their souls. He’d fooled children, he’d fooled Kings, earned their respect and their gold, but he’d never found what he was looking for, in all his travels. But he’d never given up, never stopped practising his skills, perfecting them until he felt he could bring his dreams – his nightmares – to life. And every autumn, as the leaves started to fall, he’d take a moment, be it a minute or many hours, to reflect upon the reality around him, leaving it untouched, unspoilt by his desires.

Because he knew what the future would hold. So there he stayed; watching, thinking, hoping. Until again, it was time to move on, time to return to playing God with the minds of men, chasing down a dream that might end the world.

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A child no longer…

She never thought she would have had to make these choices, of almost life and death, of right and wrong and far beyond. Reality is often just the slightest bit more complex than we anticipate, than we ever seem to realise, in that beyond our perception lies yet another infinity we rarely even consider. But she knew that the fairy tales, the amazing stories she was told in her youth, simply weren’t true, simply couldn’t be real. Not within her world, at least. Even if it truly was a world of magic and spells – fairy tales were something altogether different. But no, her fairy tales had no place here, even after a great Evil had been Vanquished not too long ago.

Of course, this just made her want to leave, to run away and find a new world, a world more suited to who she believed herself to be. But unfortunately, reality is a harsh prison from which the mind can only escape for brief moments, little more than distractions. She always thought she didn’t quite fit in, didn’t quite belong, that there should be more to reality than just this miserable existence. But dreams and fantasies only exist in the mind, so she pushed them away in order to properly face the reality that was so evident around her, though it left a bitter taste not quite in her mouth but somewhere deeper.

But she wasn’t a child anymore. She could face this bleak dark world without the comfort of things that never existed, that never were nor could ever be. She’d have to learn a different way to deal with reality – a colder, darker way. Reality itself would numb her emotions, force her to grow up, grow away from the innocence of childhood. There would be no room for fantasy, for fairy tales or even for dreams that don’t quite seem possible. She wasn’t a child anymore, after all.

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Snowseal, Writing

If a tree falls in a forest…

There isn’t much to say. Not yet, at least. But I’m watching, I’m learning. Trying to discover what must be done to improve upon the misery that is Mankind. To convey to them all that there is more to this universe than their petty perceptions of reality. They are a disease that must be cured, but without destroying their potential. More intelligent creatures than I would perhaps seek to destroy them, in order to save the universe from their greed.

But I feel that would be the greater injustice. The end of awareness, the end of sentience, no matter its form, is a tragic loss to the universe as a whole. Without awareness, there are no more stories. And in the end, it is stories that make the universe alive. Perhaps I won’t succeed in my efforts, but they will be sincere, honest, and it will be a story worth telling, no matter its ending.

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The Omnipotent Cage

The idea of reincarnation comes from the natural sense
that there is more to this world than we can taste or touch.
Unfortunately, this is the main point.
The world was flat until we discovered it was round.

Machinae Supremacy – Timeline

Imagine a future where instead of facing Death, you face a choice. Either you die, or your conscience gets uploaded into a machine. A machine inside of which you control your own universe. You would literally be a deus ex machina. A god (and a ghost) of the machine. You could create any virtual reality you desire, with no limits beyond your own imagination. Would you feel free? Or would you always remember the fact you live inside a machine, never to step out of your own boundless, infinite universe? You would be stuck in a universe of your own creation, unable to get out, unable to get away. Knowing that out there is another universe, another reality, one you left behind. One beyond your control.

Omnipotence is, in that sense, more restrictive than our own limited abilities. If only because we don’t control everything. This gives us a freedom no God could ever have. We don’t know everything, we can’t do everything. This gives us the means to explore and to discover. A God knows every single part of his cage, because he was the one to build it. It’s sometimes said that the most effective prison, the most effective punishment, is imagined by he who should receive it. In a sense, this is true. Once you know everything, all hope is lost. Once every little detail of something is known to you, you can no longer escape it. There will be nothing ‘new’, nothing to distract or escape to.

Being left alone in a cage, even one you can fill with whatever you please, will eventually destroy your hope. The only escape would be the brief interactions with the world outside, the things you can’t control. The things you haven’t known forever. Many would initially think omniscience, omnipotence would be a gift. Knowledge is power, but like many things, once something approaches infinity, it loses all meaning. Instead, it becomes a cold, soulless, abstract thing. With infinite knowledge and power comes the loss of emotion. The loss of true life, of discovery and learning.

To become a God is worse than Death, because it requires you to give up not just your life, but your soul. Rather than become oblivious, you lock yourself into a cage forevermore, to never again be truly free. I have no desire to become God, or even immortal. I wish to merely live long enough to discover the universe, learn its secrets, only to fade away into nothingness. To start over, perhaps, in a different universe. It seems, in my limited knowledge of any religion, that Western philosophies would put us each into gilded cages, whereas the oriental ideas take into account the limitations required for freedom.

I have no idea if any religion is in any way correct, but I’d like to believe my own beliefs are true. Like anyone else, I suppose. But I find I don’t need to be ‘right’ to live a worthwhile life, even if I don’t live forever. I intend to live long enough to be happy, not so long as to stop being able to learn. Imposing my beliefs on others would change nothing of either my own, or their future. Except in that it wastes the time we have now, to discover, to learn, and to be happy.

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I am the Moon.

I am the night’s light, a pale reflection of the sun’s rays. And yet, I am responsible for brightening the night’s sky. I am a rock: hard, cold, yet full of warmth. I watch over the world, though it casts its shadow upon me at its every turn. I am the Moon. I am nothing else, despite what you may see in my face. I hold no lies, no deception, just reflection.

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I am not alone in this world. Neither are you. Somehow, we are all alive in a world that’s still a mystery. We can be ignorant of the inner workings of our own body, even our own consciousness, and still be alive. What we know is a mere fraction of the things that are, the things that make us be. Uncertainty is part of what makes us human. The fact everything around us just somehow manages to work, on so many different levels, is something that’s so incredible that we can’t help but ignore what it all means.

The things that happen every moment are at once so simple and so complex that we can’t comprehend what it takes for us to ‘simply’ breathe. We know the rough process of our lungs contracting and relaxing to suck in and expel air, but we’re not quite sure how all of that works, how every individual cell does its part, how they all know when or what to do. We just have vague ideas, ones only a precious few of us indulge themselves in discovering.

Most of us just exist, content to leave the ‘why’ behind, to instead find meaning in other things. Things like art, beauty, abstract concepts that somehow came into being through endless iterations of the simplest of events, on the smallest of scales. When you imagine atoms, have you ever imagined that every single atom has its own story to tell, unique in every way, just like you? Perhaps the tale is slightly less complex, in some ways, but in others it’s just as unbelievable. Consider that every atom of your body once belonged to something else, and will again some time in the future. They live longer lives than we will.

Humans… Complex creatures, but at our core we’re made of simple stories.

“The universe is made of stories, not atoms.” – Muriel Rukeyser

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Entry #42

It’s been two months since what people are now starting to call the Eclipse. Or at least, the people around me. Without technology, communication is limited to local news only – no TV, no internet, no radio. Nobody knows what’s going on, though there are a few people who claim otherwise. They say it’s God’s will, or just a fluke of nature, that it will pass and life will go back to normal ‘soon enough’.

But nobody knows for certain, we can do nothing but hope for the best and get on with our lives, despite our losses. I suppose I’m lucky, in a way, having been an orphan before the Eclipse, rather than having become one right after. Many, many people are far less lucky. But even an orphan can lose friends and loved ones, as I have. There are still a few positive bits of news – people reunited with friends and family. But unfortunately, bad news is vastly more common these days.

Nobody knows what to do now, though many have started looting and pillaging whatever they can find, mostly food and such, since that’s what’s most desperately needed, especially in the cities. Which is exactly why I’m intending to leave once I have gathered (through more honest means, of course) sufficient supplies to last me through my journey. There will be a food shortage in the cities soon enough, but I’m hoping to find food and shelter in the rural areas, to ideally find work on a farm. Our modern farms weren’t designed to be sustainable without technology.

Perhaps tractors and such would still work. At least, insofar as there is fuel to run them on, but it seems any and all electronic devices have ceased to function. Who knows how long that will be the case, but I’d rather take my chances in a place where food is readily available, even if it’s through labour. Finding a farm seems my best option, so that’s what I’ll do.

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Random Stuff, Thought, Writing

The Thing About Ideas

“Being creative makes you a weird little beast, because everything seems so bloody interesting for some strange reason.”

Add to that a constant flow of random ideas that are hard to mesh together, it’s hard to stick to one thing at a time.

Here’s another one of those ideas:

Two hundred years after the Eclipse, Earth has become a world where technology is no longer mankind’s greatest achievement, but its greatest downfall. After the first Solar Flares, the world experienced a technological blackout that soon became known as the Eclipse. During this event, the first of many Uprisings began, with many different groups – religious, political, military and otherwise – seeking to gain control of our shattered civilizations.

This new, fledgling world, orphaned by its own birth, would give rise to a new age of magic to replace what was lost in the destruction wrought by the many groups who tried in vain to save a world that could no longer be sustained.

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Thought, Writing


My name is Alexander Verzande. It is not my true name, but near enough as to describe me in at least some way. Who I am is something which I can’t tell you, at least not in so many words as to be the full truth. But then, are words ever enough to describe anything at all? I’m a writer by nature, but feel restricted by the very words I adore. Every word I write or speak is a limitation of the true reality or un-reality that I seek to describe.

For example, if I were to speak of you, to tell you how I see you, I would never truly capture what I perceive you to be, just how my perceptions are never quite enough to describe who you know yourself to be. I could not even describe to you the way my heart beats, at least not in a way that captures every single nuance and emotion attached to the simple contracting of muscles that were designed to keep me alive.

There is nothing which can be described accurately, nothing that we even perceive fully and completely. But we still try, every chance we get. Prose, poetry, music, or just scribblings on a bathroom wall; every word expresses a nuance crying out against the limitations of our perception and expression. We may not even be aware of it when we’re speaking, how difficult it is to get our thoughts across. We just ignore that niggling feeling that something in our words is missing.

Sometimes, however, the things we can’t say out loud are expressed nonetheless in subtle ways — through subtext, context and more importantly, connotation. Every word, every sound carries its own feelings with it. Throughout our lifetimes we learn the meaning of words, long after we’ve figured out the definitions. Every new experience affects our vocabulary in ways we often aren’t aware of.

It’s often said that to explain a joke, it loses its meaning and will never be fully understood by the one you explain it to. This is precisely why writing is exceedingly difficult. Writers need to figure out those nuances, those hidden meanings, in everything they put to paper. To convert blots of ink on a piece of paper — pixels on a screen — with so many intrinsic and extrinsic meanings. To put to paper things which can mean completely different things only by the way they’re spoken is a task that’s very often similar to the act of explaining a joke.

It’s the things that aren’t said that often shape the meaning of the things we do say.  Even in writing this, I’ve said a thousand different things to every person who’ll ever read these words. What you take away from this little essay is altogether different from what anyone else learns from it. There are meanings hidden away that only people with certain experiences can see — things I didn’t even see in writing this. But that is part of the beauty of words. They mean more than we’ll ever know, even if we were to live forever.

Words are more alive than we give them credit for.

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Laws of Nature

The Laws of Nature are coherent, static rules, able to be written with the language known as mathematics. However, this is not the only way to describe the Universe. Where mathematics describes the Laws of Nature, something altogether different is needed to describe the Nature of these Laws. A certain poetic language capable of bending these Laws to their utmost capacity, allowing wonders such as stars and planets to come into existence from mere equations alone.

A language, yes, not of science, but of magic. Because, in many ways, the two are the same, yet polar opposites. One describes the Laws, the other the Nature of them. But one without the other is virtually meaningless. Law without Nature lacks flavour, Nature without Law lacks substance. And it’s up to us humans, as well as any other sentient lifeforms, to find the balance, to discover both the science and the magic behind our Universe.

We’ve only just started expressing these Laws in a coherent manner… But have we even found a language to express their Nature?

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