Bunk's journal

When you are watching a pool of water and it is disturbed by a single drop there is a splash and the ripples spread accross the surface. Of course the "splash" and the "ripples" you percieve aren't in any way connected to the water, in fact your brain is processing isn't the event at all, your brain is simply processing the nerve signal pulsing into your cerebrum and triggering a response. What you "see" isn't an object, it's a refection of light energy bouncing into your corneas.

What we all know is that we percieve the universe with these sensations. But the thing is, we also create our universe with our perceptions.

The funny thing is, no one gave me my universe. I was supposed to create it on my own. And yet with all my searching, I have yet to find that which is beyond recourse, beyond consideration. I can't give anything up because I find truth and lies in all of it, and it is the same truth, the same lies.

I'm free. And trapped by the fact that while we are all different couriers of the same message, is it my similarity that is my main difference. I only see one truth so often, I know there is one right thing because illusion is the connecter. We are all the same because we are all wrong.

Consider what I write a proposal to you all.

I speak it not because I am assured of it's truth, but because I accept my fallacies because it is them that connect us. I want to hear you all, your thoughts, to add your dimentions, and by doing that expand my own. Together we are stronger.

I have to end with a line don't I? A finish? That's the funniest thing, to go on and say everything and no one thinks you said anything. Sometimes the truth is so obvious that no one ever puts it into words. And really, is it me talking? An order tells my fingers to press the keys, a circuit tells my computer to transmit a number, a disconnected action tells you to process the light emmiting from the diodes of your monitor.

Make what you want out of it. Something from nothing. It's what we do.

About time I threw in some poetry here. It's presently nameless.

Shudder on a sudden night
the wind is cold and quiet
wandering somewhere in dim light
where always seems to slip your mind

speed begins to take its hold
but never change how far you go
then the whisper heard inside
alive as quick as it has died

turn around a small mistake
for your ignorance’s sake
the air is empty to disguise
still flashing nothing to your eyes

before your mind is saved by flood
of those with living flesh and blood
the bringer of your silent fear
who speaks through you, the seer

I just logged in one morning and bam, there they were. Three white stars following my name. The top rank on Netalive.

I was a bit surprised actually. There are other people here with lower rank who have written tons of great posts. It felt like something of an accomplishment I suppose. I think I'm allowed to have at least a little ego boost, aren't I? It sure looks nice.

Anyway, I thought it was about time I said a little about myself and Netalive. (this is something of a ramble, be warned)

For starters, I'm kind of a lazy person, but in an odd kind of way. I can have a hard time getting myself to do things, but if I decide to do something, I make sure try and put my all into it, and be the best that I can. I guess you could say I have a pretty competitive nature that way, I want to be the best. But not in a mean kind of way. I like people. I often manage to see things from other peoples perspectives. I try to understand why people say the things they say, find out what their reasoning is.

I'm a huge believer in the power of communication. If there's one thing reading Victorian novels has taught me, it's that open communication would make a world of difference. Language, if properly wielded, can be a thing of immense beauty, and can make us think in ways we had never previously considered.

Getting back to myself and Netalive, I have for most of my life felt that I had some pretty cool ideas inside me. Throughout the more recent years, increased exposure to other peoples intelligence deposited me with a much needed dose of humility (... a high enough dosage, well that's debatable :p). But I also began writing for really the first time in my life. I enjoyed it, the satisfaction of creating, so I continued.

I was also, on a completely different subject, getting bored with what I had been doing on the internet, which was basically not much. I figured their had to be something more out there, so I did some searching, and I found Netalive. Previous to that, I had thought a bit about joining an online forum, but I really didn't know anything about what that would entail. So I tried it out, and needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised.

I have since visited a number of other forums on the net, to see if this one was really standard, but I found that a lot of others are rife with the kind of things this place tries to avoid; vulgarity, flaming, spam, and brainless nonsense. On top of that, I must hand it to Jaz, this is an excellently designed site. The interface is smooth and easy, simple yet totally functional. The look and feel are refined and relaxing.

All this is made alive by the core group of great people who have been interacting here for a while, mixed with an eclectic and interesting selection of one timers, occasional guests, and newbies. I try to give as much of myself as I can in terms of content and personality, and I feel I get a lot in return. In the time that I've been here, this place has helped me by exposing me to new things and ideas. Also, my writing has aquired during my time here a never before had sense of clarity and purpose.

Anyway, I'm going on a bit here. To anyone still reading, you rock! ;p I've spent a lot of time here. But there is no better place to be online. (with the possible exception of Javanoid ;))

In here I am Bunk, and that is my name. But I have my real name as well, and this will be the first time I use it here.

Thanks for reading. -Phil

This post was edited by Bunk on Jul 13, 2004.

For everyone who asks for advice about their lives, I am the perfect person to help you because I have been there, found a magical solution, worked through all my personal problems. I know where I am going, made peace with where I came from. I am on good terms with everyone, I am totally honest with and in acceptance of myself. I regret nothing. I love who I am and I fit perfectly into society.

Oh wait, I don't exist.

This post was edited by Bunk on Jun 12, 2004.

Ahh, breaking things. It's been a kickass couple of days.

It all started on friday, when my friends and I finished filming the play/movie that we wrote. Actually, it started as a play, but somewhere we decided that it would be even more cool to film it as a movie, with music and stuff. I haven't seen what we filmed yet, but appearently it's good stuff. It's a murder mystery type thing, with lots of quirky and dramatic elements. I ended up outlining a lot of it myself, except the ending, then we split up the writing.

Anyway, getting more to the point, one of the scenes (outlined and written by me) called for my character (Morton: creepy revenge obsessed psycho) to, in a fit of rage, go nuts and smash up a bar. Everyone agreed that this was a perfect climax for Morton, and the scene would go forward. But it was not the easiest scene to pull off. For one thing, we were filming in my friends kitchen. Also cheap dishware had to be aquired that I could smash. All of that was set up, then the smashing was set to begin.

It's amazing how far smashed glass will fly when thrown at the floor full force...

So that was much fun. And a interesting clean up job at that.

That was part one. Part two of the mayhem was last night, when as part of a Taekwon-do demonstration, I broke three boards (solid wood, all at once, each about an inch thick so three inches thick total) with a reverse side-kick. I had never broken any more than one before, and the boards ain't free, so there was no real practising. Now, I picked carefully. Reverse side is my most powerful kick. But still, it was daunting. Then I got up on that stage, with about 200 people watching who had never seen anything like that live ever, and nailed that kick smack in the middle.

Seeing those boards shatter was damn satisfying, I must say. It was great working towards it for a long time, then getting up there and nailing it. Damn that was fun shit. Yeah!! I'm still pumped damn it! Bring on the crap for me to smack!

... *ahem* There is probably, in the long term, more satisfaction to be derived from creation than destruction. But if I ever end up with free reign over a Wal-mart and a sledgehammer, just try convincing me then.

He raced. Faster faster. Ah fuck what have I done. Why why why, I had one chance, a thousand times I think of it now. So many times I had forgotten what could be for the security of the present. Goodbye was all; no, that’s all. You know. You think it. What what what should I do thinking for the moments that fall then bam you’re there and what’s there? Nothing. then he takes over . Slowly rising up in your chest. Into your throat. Coursing through your breath shortened hands shake power. So powerful. A though so pure. So plain. A thousand fucking times. Over and over in my mind. Like madness. Is madness always angry I ask? Not at all I answer. It’s the weight. Heavy. Crushing. A pull on your soul dragging you down yet so slow and so calm that when you fight you have nothing a cruel so very silent madness. And then you are nothing. His breathing is heavy. The bomb that wastes both user and target. A sad little whine. Not any more. Why did it have to get like this. Expectation. The ending. Why is each beginning an end, another sigh. No more no more no more. A quiet death, or a loud one. It’s blame. Who do you blame? A switch. On or off. No or not really no. Rejection or silence. They stand and tell me. Explain it. So smart. They know. They know me. Funny. They feel my pain. Liars fuck them all. Why do they lie? Bombed. Dreams hope love; lost. They see it. Smell it. It excites them. Power. Greed. Why? That’s who we are. Nothing. Dust. Eating the world for lunch. They tell you: why, how, who, what. Why they’re right. How you’re wrong. Who’s fault. What to do. Isn’t that enough. Isn’t that enough. In me. Out of me. Forever is a cruel hammer to kill a child. Fear doubt silence death, a victory for them. Nothing remains. A sigh and you’re gone lost. A loss. Nothing. Dust No. I can’t. I can’t. Is there something left? Is there a final ounce? You pull the trigger. click now it’s their turn. Choke on it. Be disgusted. Be shocked. Cry. Burn. It’s your fault you fuckers. I’ll make you see. My gift. The fist pounds. Violence anger scream kill death.

I win.

The fire burned behind him, the blood dripping from his hands.