If my scripts were real...

the world would be in complete, organized chaos. War. Apocalypse. Past, present, future all folded and entangled in one another. A teenaged girl would lead the survivors of a Harbinger's assault on America back to to freedom at the end of a smoking barrel. Kids would feel abnormal in the most normal sense of the word whilst discussing light topics such as suicide with their psychiatrist.  Robots would have given life to humans. Blood and Kool-Aid would be one and the same. And a Confederate coroner would replace the lost love of his murdered mother by embracing, mentally and physically, his long lost sister, whom, by chance, is dead herself by the time this world ends.

As bizzarre, unlikely, confusing, disturbing as some of this may sound, these worlds feel more like reality then, reality. When compared to these worlds, the world I am stuck in seems tamed. And, in essence it is tamed. Whether that is for good or bad who really knows. But, if they were real I would know how to exists in them, unlike now. This world, the predicability of it, the people in it, drives me insane to the very core. But, it's the insanity that creates such places of escape. A curse? A gift? Who the hell knows?

On a lighter note, if my scripts were real then I wouldn't really be much of a creative writer, I'd only be a journalist. Which, while exciting in it's own right, isn't quite as fulfilling to me.

Writer's Block

Remember Remember...

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,

The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,

I know of no reason

Why the Gunpowder Treason

Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent

To blow up the King and Parli'ment.

Three-score barrels of powder below

To prove old England's overthrow;

By God's providence he was catch'd

With a dark lantern and burning match.

Holla boys, Holla boys, let the bells ring.

Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

And what should we do with him? Burn him!