Ephemeral Fantasia

As a race, I think it's often said, we're afraid of quite a few things. We're afraid of change - that's for sure. You only need to look at the way people oppose new governments, new technologies, new ways of life to figure that one out. I guess, also, we're afraid of the unknown. Watch your average horror flick and you'll see that the camera, the plot and the acting is designed to play against what you don't know and see to make you feel that little bit more afraid. What I find funny though, is that you never hear of us being afraid of those two fears combined. Today, though, I feel afraid of Tomorrow. Today, two of my friends broke up. I use the word friends loosely, of course, because they were the kind of people with whom I was never quite sure where I stood. They had been going out for a few months, but I'd never really got to know them as a couple much. Maybe I saw them kissing once or twice. Might even have seen them holding hands. I heard of their escapades. I witnessed their arguments. I was told of their downfall. I can't say, heartless though it may sound, that I feel much remorse. Something, however, has snapped in this world though. When I walk back from my girlfriend's at night, the walk is a lonely one. Sometimes the moon blazes across the open sky, nudging stars behind the gauze of the urban light clutter and providing me with a beacon home. Mostly, though, I'm treated to kebab shops and townies. There are always the thirty-somethings smoking their cigarettes, swigging their lagers. They might glare at me as they stroll past into the slightly offputting fast-food shop, but mostly there isn't much of a problem. A few old biddies totter out of the bingo hall. Altogether, quite dull yet generally inoffensive. The only highlight is the sight of a couple walking down the lamplit street together, hand in hand clutching some part of their dream. Tonight though, the street is lifeless. A couple strolls past me, but all I see is Tomorrow. Tomorrow where they wake up, break up and move on. Tomorrow, where the rock of dependency is washed away into an ocean of time. I brush my hands over the quilt cover of my girlfriend's bed, but it feels as harsh and unforgiving as the cold air outside. Something has changed. The couple itself did not affect me - I don't think this feeling is from any love lost (although, of course I couldn't tell you if any had been or not). I cannot remember my exact reaction to the announcement. I might have laughed to myself quietly. I might have widened my eyes in surprise. I don't know. All I know is, that the sensation of permanence, the feeling that things Will Always Be is not here with me any more. The Ephemeral Fantasia is beginning to slip through my hands, and the more I clutch at it the more it slips away. Mark and Roxanne - what was it that drove you? What was it that took you through those four months? What was it that cut it off? Was it the planning for Tomorrow that made you appreciate Today? Or was it the safety of Today that made you forget that Tomorrow was going to come, someday? I don't know. I guess none of us do. But maybe we will, tomorrow, the day after - someday. Perhaps this is the transience that defines adulthood - the draining of immortality, the sapping of youth, the understanding of time. Perhaps things will be better in the morning? Tomorrow, as they say, is another day. But Tomorrow, as they say, never comes.

The Pinboard

Welcome to the Pinboard for Sunday 10th April. Deaths, Weddings and Paypackets this week. But sadly, no graphics card or revision. Still, can't have everything. We're now looking for reviews, previews, features and more for the next issue of Phoenix Publishings, so don't hesitate to submit something you think they might like to see. Site Of The Week Artpad - A great, yet simple web canvas for you to paint and share a masterpiece with! Image Of The Week A cynical take on religion - courtesy of Urban Dictionary.com's users. Quote Of The Week

"It's rather like a puddle waking up one morning— I know they don't normally do this, but allow me, I'm a science fiction writer— A puddle wakes up one morning and thinks: "This is a very interesting world I find myself in. It fits me very neatly. In fact it fits me so neatly... I mean really precise isn't it?... It must have been made to have me in it." And the sun rises, and it's continuing to narrate this story about how this hole must have been made to have him in it. And as the sun rises, and gradually the puddle is shrinking and shrinking and shrinking— and by the time the puddle ceases to exist, it's still thinking— it's still trapped in this idea that— that the hole was there for it. And if we think that the world is here for us we will continue to destroy it in the way that we have been destroying it, because we think that we can do no harm."

Douglas Adams, courtesy of Wikiquote

Customer Service Experience Of The Week

"Tony Blair will have his own cigarettes out soon, probably." says one customer to me. "Yeah," agrees the other, "with..." and then there is a painful pause as they search for a suitable insult - "with... with his face on them."

Yep. They sure will.

Reasons Why You Shouldn't Dress In Drag

Number Three - People who didn't know you before now refer to you as 'The One Who Dressed In Girls' Clothes'.

The Little Things

The little things, so they say. The little things. The little things, like a butterfly flapping its wings. Today, I believe in the little things. The Chaos Theory is the concept that a butterfly flapping its wings in Texas causes a hurricane in northern India three months later; or maybe that "one flap of a seagull's wings would be enough to alter weather patterns forever". The idea that even a little thing like the wings flapping can have massive consequences. In a way, I feel sorry for the butterflies. They must have such psychological problems after being told things like that. But it also makes me think about other things. It makes me believe that Little Things are all we have. Tomorrow, when you wake up, what are you going to do? Are you going to leap out of bed and throw open the curtains? Will you make your own breakfast? Will you skip breakfast completely? Will you give the old man on the street corner some change? Will you toss your can in the recycle bin, the litter bin, or the gutter? The problem with not having God (if you see it as a problem) is that the little things actually become more - not less - important. If there isn't a Grand Plan, then each decision you make is one you can make correctly or incorrectly. There might not be a saving grace around the corner. The little things, so they say. Always with the little things. But have faith in the little things. Little do the hurricanes know that their foundation is made of butterflies and seagulls.