Ramblings of an Unsound Mind | Assorted Writings by Their Author

My old topic got drowned amongst all the other, more illustrious topics, so I though I'd make a new one. This one a bit less organized, with me just posting random writings as I, well, write them. Starting with this rather dark bit of rambling that I just spouted into Notepad during commercial breaks.

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These four walls grow ever closer, it seems, surrounding my very soul in a glass box, enclosing it from the hardships without. Meant to protect, but all it does is hurt more. Cold envelopes me, seeping into my very core, disabling all but the basest of emotion. Constricting the flow of feeling, holding it all within. Why does it do this to me? Why must my mind shrink into itself to free itself from its bonds? I want to expand! To be free from this cage of ice. I want to live, not feel as if I am dying little by little, my soul a compacted ball of hot, raw passion while the rest of me feels naught. The rest of me is cold, unfeeling, discompassionate. Lost in a sea of endless discontent, and not caring one whit.

Having deserted all compassion, all caring, all empathy and all sense of normality to this empty shell of nothingness. It feels like I'm drowning. Drowning in water that does not exist.Water no more real than my dreams. I am haunted in my dreams, too. The emotion that I do not feel in waking life taunts me in my dreams, faintly beckoning, always just out of reach. I cannot obtain that which I seek. I fear I am lost. I fear all is lost. What is life without love, without happiness, without loathing, without envy, without any emotion at all, whether positive of negative. Cold is all I experience. Endless cold. I am lost.

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No, I don't know what the heck that even was...

Mos, :shock:. I whole-heartedly say you're extremely talented.

I could hardly move as I was reading that, I was practically hypnotized by this text. The way you have with words...describing things...and great imagery; which is something many writers lack.

I demand you post some more of these "ramblings."

Wow, thanks, Xox! I really appreciate the kind words!

Just for you, I just wrote this following rambling attempt at late-night humor. While in chat. :D It's nothing really, just inane typing, but then that's the purpose of this thread, so... :mrgreen:

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Once upon a time—

(No, no, no! "Once upon a time," is so cliché! Use some other introduction.)

But it's traditional!

(It's silly, is what it is. I won't stand for it.)

Oh, okay...

In a land far separated from time, a series of magical events took place. I am here to tell you of these events.

(Much better. See how much better that is?)

Yes, now can I continue the story? Our dear readers are going to grow disinterested and go do something else, like beer pong.

(Oh, go on then. It's not as if I'm stopping you, you know.)

Thank you. Now, as I was about to say, there just so happened to be a beautiful princess who was more—

(Clichéd, clichéd, and clichéd. You know Spartiate is going to say that too. Probably Mark75 as well.)

Would you just shut up?! I'm trying to write this out faithfully and truly! Now, the princess was-

(If you want to be faithful and true, the princess was an ugly, fat girl, with hair like a bristle brush and a chin you could lose a hog in.)

Look, if you want to tell the story you go right ahead. If not, keep your comments to yourself.

The princess was more intelligent and kind than any other girl in all the land, but she was lonely—

(Because she was a miserable, fat slob.)

Look here now! That's my grandniece you're on about!

(Well, it's not like it's a very interesting story anyway. The princess wound up getting turned into a statue in the end along with the frog she kissed to be her prince, so they could erode together and be defecated upon by passing pigeons for all of time. Not like it's a Neil Gaiman tale or something.)

Oh, I give up. You're never going to be happy after that thing with the golden goose, are you?

(Well, it was my goose and you just-)

This conversation is over.

(What, don't want the readers to find out about your dirty little secrets, eh?)

Over, I said! Damnit, that is in the past!

(Hey, you brought it up.)

Shut up. I'm going to go riding.

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Hahha Love it once again Mos! What I love about your writing is that you keep it so diverse. This one had me laughing!

I demand more now! Of course, when you get the chance...hehe.

:D

Thanks again, Xox! I just typed this up real quick for a topic on the GameFAQs Star Wars board. It's kind of a parody of Timothy Zahn's style of writing in his Star Wars books.

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With a sardonic twitch of his finely trimmed blue-black eyebrow, Grand Admiral Thrawn pressed the button on the communications console. A voice, distorted by the distance it was forced to travel through the cold of hyperspace, sounded through the speakers as a faint blue hologram flickered to life in a shimmer of pseudo-motion. "Are my plans proceeding as I have foreseen, Grand Admiral?"

Bowing slightly, the blue-skinned Chiss boldly met the eyes of the Emperor, his chiseled face taut with suppressed discontent. "Yes, your masterful plans are unfolding just as they should, Your Majesty."

"Good, good. You will soon be joined by an agent of the Empire. She will supervise this attack and report back to me. You are to treat her as an equal, Grand Admiral. Or the consequences will be severe."

The menace in the aging Emperor's tone was obvious. Thrawn loathed being kept on such a leash, but by his calculations, this would not continue for long.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Still glaring at Thrawn's startlingly handsome visage, the hologram flickered out, gone as quickly as it had come. Mith'raw'nuruordo allowed himself a slight sigh of resignation. He would tolerate this for now, but soon... His thoughts were broken off by the sound of a throat clearing behind him. "Yes, Pellaeon?"

"A shuttle has just docked, sir. The occupant says she is an Imperial agent sent to oversee our operation. Her papers agree." the lesser admiral deferred, his graying brow furrowing.

"Show her to my quarters."

Pellaeon hesitated, about to speak again, but thought better of it. Instead he turned smartly on his heel and hurried off.

Mere minutes later, the doors to Grand Admiral Thrawn's chambers burst open, and a slim but imposing figure with startlingly brilliant flaming red hair strode in. Eyes so green they burned with an ethereal intensity set themselves on the handsome blue features of Thrawn after briefly admiring his artistically decorated quarters. With a sarcastic smirk, Mara Jade sneered, "Who does your decor, Thrawn? It could use more Twi'lek nude statues."

"Ah, Mara Jade. The Emperor's Hand herself. Please, have a seat, and we shall discuss things of importance," Thrawn graciously gestured to a comfortable looking armchair opposite his own.

"Oh, I think I'll stand," Mara, ever vigilant, cast a wary eye to the chair, wondering vaguely where Thrawn's Noghri bodyguards were hidden.

With a microscopic twitch of his already cocked eyebrow, Thrawn nodded agreeably. "As you wish. You are wondering why we are not in position to attack yet."

"Yes, the thought had crossed my mind."

"Your Master is a brilliant strategist, perhaps even better than I, but he overlooked one small detail in his otherwise commendable strategy." Thrawn explained, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh, and what was that?" An expression of bemused wariness affixed itself to Mara Jade's beautiful features.

"The Igglimian forces will be gathered in one location in the system in just one more day, for their annual choosing of a new governor. They will gather at one point to fire a salvo into the system's star to salute the newly appointed official. I have deduced this by studying the artwork and sculptures of ancient Igglimian artists throughout the Tremi Period. The Emperor's plan would result in a needless slaughtering of their innocents, whereas by waiting just one more day, we can strike only at their military and bureaucracy." Thrawn smugly extrapolated, cocking his blue-black eyebrow in an equally smug fashion.

"I am impressed. Even the Emperor himself did not foresee this," Mara frowned, "However, I am afraid you must follow his orders. We must strike now. If we wait, the outcome may differ."

"Ah, you worry yourself overmuch. K'noghu, Fughuro." With an almost unseen flicker of pseudo-motion, two squat, lean gray-skinned Noghri were suddenly standing behind Mara Jade. A sharp snap-hiss sounded, as Mara Jade reacted with speed only a Force-user could muster, her reflexes honed by years of training at the side of the Emperor himself. A blade of emerald energy extended from the cylindrical hilt held in her finely sculpted hand as she whirled to face the alien bodyguards.

Sardonically, Thrawn chuckled, "Put away your weapon, Mara Jade. They mean you no harm." As the lightsaber powered down with its trademark sound, Thrawn continued, "Please show the lady to her rooms so that may acquire some rest before dinner, K'noghu. I am certain she is tired from her long journey." Turning his steely gaze back to Mara Jade, Thrawn expounded, "We will continue our discussion at dinner, Emperor's Hand."

With those words she was dismissed.

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Double posting, but it's my thread, so bite me. I'm working on this one, this is just the belated start. My muse went to get a drink in mid paragraph, so this is what I got in the meantime...

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Jer Daniu's first thought when he saw the flames coming off of his ship's starboard wing was that his insurance company was going to have a field day with this. His second thought was more in the realm of, “Oh, shit, this is gonna hurt.” He was already coming in hot, and those blasted patrol craft hadn't helped any. They had done a number on his shields, wearing them down before a shot finally found it's way through. It only took the one, and his ship was aflame.

“Shit!” he cursed, frantically trying to slow the craft's descent toward the azure water of the vacation planet of Githal. Apparently, the Dapper Dingbat didn't like his language, because just then his whole control panel went dead. Then to make matters worse, the small leisure yacht suddenly broke into a tight spin, losing altitude like a drunk gambler loses chips. Jer braced himself best he could, the horizon rotating wildly through the viewscreen. Yep, this was going to hurt.

And it did. Not as bad as he'd expected, but it still hurt. His shields totally dead now, along with most of the other systems on the ship, the craft's nose crumpled like a drink can when it hit the water. The Dapper Dingbat was made for the climes of space, not to withstand any sort of impact. Jer barely had time to take a breath and turn his head before the viewscreen shattered and cold seawater rushed into the cockpit. Well, ought to be fun.

Shards of plastiglass cut the right side of his face as he hurriedly unfastened his seat restraints. Already feeling the lack of air, he scrambled for the now clear opening where the viewscreen had been, fighting against the flow of water. He made it out, catching his shin on a sharp corner in the process, cutting the skin. Now desperate for air, he clawed for the surface, lungs straining. After what seemed like forever he broke through the surface, and took a great gasp of welcome air.

Bobbing in the waves caused by the crash, he took in nearly as much sea as air, but he quickly spat out the water, sputtering.

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Erm, this is awkward, having to triple post. Quick, somebody post in here so I don't look like I'm just bumping my own thread!

In all seriousness, though, I just wrote this little... I guess you might call it a short rap, while I was tired and in a slightly contemplative mood. Make of it what you will. Or at least, I wouldn't recommend making of it what you won't.

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Allow me to introduce you, my friends out there in this big world,
To my way of thinking, my opinion, that you'll think absurd.
See I think rap is not what the media sees it as, a game of slang and four-letter words.
Rap can be whatever you make of it, a personal expression of your interior chords.
It's your deepest feelings and most serious emotion carried to a beat of powerful proportion,
How you feel on the little things like speeding tickets, or schools' meal portions.
What's going through your head when you see the Presidential debates or hear of an abortion.
You don't have to look cool, wear long gold chains or do those vocal contortions,
It's just you and your rhyme, nothing else matters, just to drive your point home.
When you get in the right mood and you thoughts just flow because you're in the zone,
Then you're discovering what rap truly is, the real meaning behind that def tone.
Now I know what you're thinking; what do I know about this craze that's grown?
I may be white but I'm not deaf, nor blind nor dumb; I know art when it's in front of my nose.
And rhyme with reason is art in truth; bare passion that sends chills down to your toes.
So the next time you think, “Meh, rap is crap,” think of this humble piece of prose,
Turn from your metal and your pop, and pick up an album with a beat—you might like it, who knows?

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Great writing, and I especially like that last rap one. Good stuff MoS.

Ooh superb. :clap:

I love the mini-stories you wrote, especially the one about the Emperor. You remind me of this author...can't remember the name right now. Your vocabulary is great, and you describe things perfectly. :D

I can't wait to see your short story for the competition.

Oh and the rap, great as well. I see you improved notably from before.

I thought I'd post some rambling I wrote whilst sitting in Krystal waiting for them to get their internet up and running. They never did while I was there. Disclaimer: I'm basically just talking to myself here. Never meant to post it, but hey, why not? :D

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Aaand... The internet at Krystal is evidently gone AWOL. Totally. Somewhere in trying to get the wifi back up, the whole system went down, so now they can't even process credit cards. Buncha incompetent technology illiterate nincompoops. I think the woman who seemed to actually know something just got back from her lunch break, so let's hope she can help these morons. Wow, am I getting angry over this, or what? Maybe I'm just insane. Whatever. Just lost detection of the secured network, so maybe they are restarting the whole setup. Hopefully that'll get the whole mess back up and running. I'm hearing beeping noises. Is that good? I sure hope so, or else this trip will have been for nothing. Which ticks me off majorly. Checking again...

Nope. But their secured wireless network is up now, so that's a good sign I suppose. The staff here is not so good, methinks. Some kid is putting his shirt on out in the parking lot before coming in, while talking on his cell phone. Some wannabe surfer dude, looks like. Cargo shorts, the whole deal. Ah, he was waiting for someone. And they just arrived. Some more kids in another car. Not proper Southerners/rednecks at all. Caps half sideways and everything, the preps. Oh, and still no internet. I'm still checking every few minutes. Maybe they'll get it up before the parents get here. Hopefully more than five minutes before they arrive. Though it's already 3:36 PM, so I doubt it. They should be here by 4:15 PM.

So now these kids – two guys and their girlfriends – are chatting. This irritates me, irrationally so. Just because I have nobody to talk to in such a cheery, friendly manner, should not cause me to become so irrationally annoyed at them doing so. Man, I've become far too cynical. While this doesn't exactly fit with the monologue so far, it fits perfectly in my jumbled mess of a mind. Trust me. Anyway, cynical: yeah, I'm too cynical. I bet those kids aren't even carrying pocket-knives. They need to be, but are they? Almost certainly not. Why? Because it's no P.C. And it doesn't fit with their wanna-be cool act. Teenagers these days.

They are a stupid lot, really. See, right now the girls are back out in the parking lot, one of them yelling at the top of her (quite good) lungs on her cellphone angrily. And the internet is still down, I think. Let me check once again... Nope, still down. More yelling, by both of the girls now, it looks like. Crazy females. I need a stiff drink, but unfortunately that's not going to happen. The parents should be here in thirty or less. I've got very little battery left, but I'm not sure I want to plug my computer up now. No point, really. I may as well just shut down.

Are miniskirts still in fashion, or is this girl just totally un-fashion-conscious? Because I like that in a girl. Then, she isn't really all that attractive to me. And I change my assessment of the guys, they are more redneck than I'd previously assumed. At least one speaks in a quite heavy Southern accent. Internet now? No. I think I'll shut down soon. I've got 14 minutes of battery left, so I'll hibernate in ten or so, I guess. Until then, more random typing. And listening to these crazy teenagers. “I'm sorry, but I thought she was my best friend.” Yeah. I'm totally eavesdropping.

Though it's kinda hard not to in here, really. Too small a place to keep secrets, not that they really care about that right now anyway. Y'know, I'm absolutely amazed that I can continue to type so fast with so few typos. With one hand, too. And the girls? Preppy. One's ringtone was some kind of R&B or rap something. And she's talking to her, “Mama” now. “I'm an adult...Whatever.” Yeah... Real adult, that. I need to shut down soon, I think. Man, I'm going to look awkward sitting here with my computer beside me, arms folded. “Sigh”. Oh well. Can't be helped, unless of course I plug in, which is... Meh. I will. No, I won't. Goodbye.

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And this, no idea when I wrote this...

“What is love, my child?”
“What else but just another emotion, E'Dihj?”
“Ah, how much you have yet to learn of life, young one. Love is an emotion, yes, but oh so very much more. Love is an instinct; a feeling so ingrained in our minds that we know it before birth. Love is everywhere, in everything. We have only to notice it.”
“Yes, E'Dihj. I understand.”
“Not yet, my child. Not yet. But you will... One day, you will understand.”

Thoughts?