the house fire

One night when I was five years old, we drove past a house that was on fire.

The fire made the rest of the scene seem so much blacker- the only thing I could see was the fire. Dark orange. It was all through the house, it must have been, because it was spewing out of both the front windows, tendrils a metre and a half high. The front door was a just a rectangle through which fire glowed at the edges.

The inside of the car was cold and silent. No noise coming from everywhere.

And yet, it looked as though the house was crying. Crying huge streams of orange fire. I couldn’t look away, but eventually we drove so far along I couldn’t see it anymore.

Thinking about it to myself later, I realised there had been no fire brigade there, no rescue effort at all. The house had been burning down, all alone. For years afterward, I would think of the house fire again, wondering if anyone had been inside, wondering if they’d escaped or been vapourised, or whether someone had gotten home from an evening out to find their burnt-out house crying. I feared for them.

It’s been with me for a long time, I thought I ought to write it down.

I guess you’ve always wanted life on your own

I realised that It’d be a good idea to excercise a bit more and eat a bit less in the near future. Failure to do so might result in an embarrasingly avoidable death from cardiovascular disease in the less-near future.

I haven’t eaten a chocolate bar for a little while. I’m out on the bike again. Heroic.

My bike is off being serviced, so I’m riding someone else’s. It clanks like a motherbitch the moment I push a pedal, and the riding position is absurdly high for a bike with such small wheels, but it’ll do.

As I pant and clank my way through the streets at twilight, I sometimes catch really nice cooking smells. It’s kind of bittersweet; Here’s why: Somewhere, an unbegrudging cook is preparing a tasty meal for a grateful family. This was never part of my home dining experience, growing up. Even now. When I was a child we used to have a routine by which a disgusting meal would be prepared by a bitter and twisted chef, and consumed by a weary family, who would complain, which would only embitter the chef more.

But it’s mostly better now.

I suppose I have a weakness for food. When you’re eating tasty things, for a short time, there are no problems.

Man, I spent yesterday cooking with a friend. It was delicious, so worth it.

Mmm, showering in the evening is a new thing for me. But I like the feeling of being nice and clean in my jim-jams, ready for sleep.

accidents all

You and me both, we’re fragile.

I’m with you.

Biology notes II: safe and sound

-I listen to ‘Jessie’s Girl’ by Rick Springfield, and I sympathise to a point. This makes me feel a bit worthless at times.

-Today I had a confrontation with the receptionist at the employment agency, only to discover that she is actually really helpful. She must have seen through my phone-stammer to the astonishingly qualified individual underneath! Thankyou Pam.

-I used to think that Christmas was okay, if tedious. My main argument was that you get to eat nice food and the family generally gets along. I take back what I said after the last two Christmas seasons involved way too much ricotta cheese and heartbreak. If I ever write an autobiography, perhaps I will call it ‘ricotta cheese and heartbreak’ because that’s life.

 

 

-So, without further ado, I have decided not to talk about Christmas anymore (unless something REALLY interesting happens).

 

-Snails are molluscs. Molluscs are fabulous. I think they are more appealing than cats and dogs. I like things that are kind of cute and gross at the same time. The bit of the snail that pokes out from the bottom of the shell is called the foot. Don’t you wish you had one huge, slithery foot with a mouth on it instead of two legs? Perhaps?

 

Trans: Yes it is indeed alcohol that taught me my moral code

 

-Lastly, I have been using some sophisticated software (well, MS paint is only like 15 years old) to add colour to my scanned drawings. I would like your feedback- Do you like the bright, blocky colour? Do you prefer it when I draw the colours myself with pencils or texta? Do you prefer them without colour? You be commenting, yes?

Biology is nowhere near finished, eek. After that, chemistry, which is quite dark in places.

Biology Notes I: In madness and in health

When I finish the exam for a topic, I like to look through the notes for that semester and scan in all the drawings. I like doing so, it’s like a symbolic reward for completing a subject.

I’ve finished my exams now. As such, over the coming days, a few of these drawings will appear, loosely grouped according to academic subject and overarching theme.

Sometimes, I feel a bit funny.

Often, the line between the TV drama my family watches and real life seems indistinct, or nonexistent. This is funny, a lot of the time. However, sad things happen on TV dramas as well.

I don’t watch a lot of TV. If your everyday life comes to emulate the media we spend most of our time observing, my life should be a lot like a science lecture, an internet message board, a crass humour blog and a fantasy novel. I think that would be a pretty cool life. I guess my life is a bit like that.

My computer is broken, at the moment.One day, in a lecture on population dynamics, watching animal populations drive themselves to extinction on graphs, I thought about Thomas Malthus. I thought a good idea for a very intense deranged robot would be one designed to talk like a caricature of Malthus. Hence, Malthus here.

Love and War

Djibarh’s note: For those unfamiliar with the saga so far, Audrey’s first letter and second letter are available to read by clicking the links in this sentence. I sincerely hope you enjoy.

My Love

I am sorry it has been so long since I last wrote you a letter. I have somewhat grave news for you, but to that in a moment.

First off; I got your radio message. That morse code class I took in 1895 really seems to be coming in handy. It was a clever idea of the Venusians to locate the Starship Jefferson and bounce messages to me from it. I fear, though, that this practice may disturb Ellis- she is somewhere inside it, probably still alive but very unwell in the head.

A person like Ellis might be very clever; but she is scarcely equipped for a life spanning hundreds of thousands of years. For you and I, the passage of time is just something that happens, and it doesn’t matter overmuch. It slips by, like a silk curtain on skin. But for unfortunates like Ellis, who break out of thier natural lifecycles, time slips by them less like silk and more like sandpaper; rasping away at the mind forever. For them, the only consolation is routine. By routine a thousand years can pass inflicting the misery of only a day.

So, leave Ellis her routine. Radio signals, tiny rumblings, will only shake her out of it. For such people, waking life is the nightmare.

~

Anyway, it seems that I got your message a mere 500 years after you sent it, so perhaps my responses will arrive in time to be helpful:

I understand it’s not easy being married to an eternal intergalactic explorer with a different perception of time and a tendency to act on a whim. I know you waited thousands of years for me to come home, only to have me leave again. I know that that would have taken a lot of dedication or some other human quality I don’t quite have the capacity to understand. But it means a lot to me. I love you.

And it’s because I love you that I understand where you’re coming from. Everyone (especially a person as deserving as you)  needs…closeness. To converse with a loved one; to lie in a warm, safe pair of arms. However deep and constant my love for you is, I can provide you with none of this while I am lightyears away.

So the answer to your question is yes, of course. I’m glad you’ve settled in on Venus (the alps are very nice, congratulations), glad you’ve found a Venusian girlfriend. You treat her right, ok? The rest of the planet might make trouble if you didn’t! All silliness aside, I never want to be like a ball and chain. I miss you, but I think it will be a while before we meet again.

Now, I would ordinarily refrain from mentioning sex in a letter which might be read by anyone- but you’re in for a treat. The Venusians are fantastic lovers; It’s what they do instead of watching TV.

~

On to my grave news. Please copy the next section of this letter and forward it to the Venusian Department of  Science and Exploration (VDSEx), along with my request that the Jefferson no longer be used as a radio relay.

After parting ways with the Starship Jefferson, I followed the trail of micro-debris left behind by the drifting hulk. I reasoned it would lead me to the system the colonists had settled in before gutting their starship and casting it away. I kept thinking that Ellis must have really been a huge threat to them for them to waste so much good metal disposing of her.

The trail ran more or less dead just by a small star visible from the Sol system. The Venusian name for it is ‘Taf-Kaa 14′ (14th distant star of the north). It was such a relief just to see light again. The star had a few planets around it; so in I went to investigate.

Already I seem to be getting into a bad habit of hitting or being hit by spacecraft. In space, you can’t hear anything coming. I was passing a dusty, rocky moon when three small craft zipped out from behind it. It was too late for me to change direction (Inertia is a real party-killer in space) so onto the windshield I went. Smack.

Mildly stunned, I sat like that for a few moments, just peering inside. Humanoid. Huge helmet. Eyes looking at me in utter bafflement. After shaking his or her head a bit, the pilot regained composure and began to buck the little craft wildly, Shaking me off. I was flung free and felt myself pulled towards the moon. I kicked out and rallied all of my energies to escaping and following the three mysterious craft.

Whatever engines those things were packing, they were a lot faster than anything I’d seen before. They had a distinctive red livery and were unmistakably fighters of some description; gun barrels everywhere.  I continued to follow them.

Something shimmered out of the corner of my eye. Distorted outlines, following us. The red fighters seemed to sense that something was amiss- suddenly breaking formation and flitting around in random directions, like poisoned insects.

There was a dizzyingly intense flash of light. The shimmering outlines vanished, replaced by five more fighters. Larger, and blue.

In an instant, I was caught in the crossfire. Something hit me that I can’t identify; plasma, lightning or a high-powered laser, maybe all three. It was hot and bright, burning through my clothes where it hit me. Something exploded nearby and the wave of debris hit me while I was still blinded. I let the space junk carry me along, powerless to do much else.

My vision returned, blurry at first. I felt something tug at my arm. Dazed, I looked around, seeing only floating bits of twisted metal. The tugging became more urgent. I looked down, found the source. The same pilot, in red uniform, strapped to an ejector seat with a tiny oxygen bottle.

I floated around to grab onto his other arm. I looked intently through the visor and found a pair of watery-blue eyes staring wildly out at mine. Inside his helmet, he was screaming, hyperventilating, trying to tell me something, then breaking eye contact completely to thrash and flail in an orgy of pure distress.

I gripped his arm tighter and pulled myself closer, touching the side of my head to the helmet.

…I couldn’t make out his language. I don’t know why I was expecting to. I experienced a strange sinking feeling as I heard the pilot repeating something to me, like a question or a prayer I couldn’t answer. I began to scream myself, vocal chords useless in the vacuum:

‘What is this? Is this war? Why is this happening!?’

I could feel my throat move, but hear only silence.

Suddenly the pilot let out a yelp and tightened his grip, nodding at an approaching blue fighter. It swooped nearby, dropped something, cloaked and vanished. My companion and I looked around; space had gone still again. Nothing was left except for us and three fighter’s worth of space junk, floating in silence.

And of course the smooth blue sphere, dropped by the outgoing fighter. The pilot seemed to know what it was, drawing me closer and shutting his eyes tightly. I watched the sphere hang in space for the longest time. Nothing changed. Just dead space and a doomed astronaut and I locked in an embrace somewhere in it.  Time passed. His grip on my arm weakened slightly as he began to run out of air.

A floating piece of a shattered hull drifted closer to the blue sphere. Touched.

Space filled with fire. I felt the grip on my arm simply evaporate and I was falling towards the surface of the moon, ears ringing, head about to split apart from pain.

At this point, it’s important to mention that anything destructive enough to harm me even temporarily must be, by necessity, very destructive indeed.

I came to in a thick bed of dust, on the dark side of the little moon. After coughing up some of the dust, I took a look at myself. The remains of my clothes were spackled with a fine mist of blood, some of which had gotten into my nostrils.

I felt a new sensation. I think it’s nausea, but I’m not sure, having only ever read about it previously. I decided to permit myself a further nap, the day having been quite the sensory overload already. I am pleased to report that afterwards, and since, I am entirely recovered.

Something is deeply amiss here at Taf-Kaa 14. Perhaps the humans have encountered a hostile spacefaring species (the blue fighters) and are trying to repel them. It seems so desperately unlikely, but I can’t think of any other way to explain what happened.

In accordance with my natural curiosity and my established role as an explorer, I will proceed further into the Taf-Kaa 14 system, with the objective of discovering what the matter is.

~End communication to VDSEx~

So, my love, it looks as though I have once again made only brief contact; but this is promising. I will find the descendants of those colonists; and ask them what that horrible business was all about. I’m sure a solution will be forthcoming.

Just between you and I, I admit to having a nasty feeling, in my chest somewhere, worsening slightly all the time.

Always thinking of you, please don’t forget me

-Audrey

PS. I realise this arrangement might become complicated in future, but don’t worry. We can cross any bridges when we come to them. And never forget that whatever the circumstances, I will be absolutely fine. That’s what makes me me. So take care of yourself, my dear.

Look at me

Raaar! How about some pictures today?

This one’s for Clare:

and Mason:

and finally, no-one at all:

Goodness me

Oh, I’ve been so angsty. It’s just evaporated, and I feel relaxed and happy. I don’t know how it happened; so I don’t quite trust it yet, but it’s nice to have a relaxed evening doing a bit of reading, listening to records. Tonight, Emuir Deodato, Preludes. Some day I will play that album for someone I like very much; around sundown. <3

Maybe I feel happy because I’ve finished my prac courses for the year, or because of the lovely people that I love, or because of the stroganoff we had for dinner.

Today I had a lecture in which the lecturer told us about what an amino acid is. Really? Sigh.

It’s hot upstairs, the fan clanks like all hell as it spins fast enough to lop off someone’s head. If I were a few centimetres taller, it would indeed be low enough to put a dent in my head. Someone once told me that fan blades actually spin quite gently, and it’s possible to stop them with your hand. But I can’t remember who it was, and they might have been a total idiot. Also, it looks frightening enough that I’m not going to try to grab it mid-spin.

Today, I saw two almost identical men, sitting together, who weren’t actually connected in any way. A bus came and one simply got up and walked away, never having spoken to the other.

I kid on a scooter rode up to me and I almost did a double-take, because he had a man’s face, only smaller.

Is it only me that notices these weird things, or are they actually not that weird in the first place?

Nonsense and remembrances

I can speak clearly but when I act it’s all gibberish. Twitch and shout.

I can’t escape the feeling that everything I do is wrong, or at least done for the wrong reasons. This is a burden on my mind.

Exams are rushing at me like a runaway freight train and I’m staggering on and off the tracks, disoriented. As though I had been struck by a gentle bolt of lightning, or someone had slipped spirits into my water bottle.

I might soon have a new job. If that were to happen I would be really pleased, mostly as a result of receiving a wage. If it turns out that it is as difficult as Subway, I think I will scream, and resign myself to never being able to pass for a productive earthling. And then I will scream some more, but obviously this will all take place in private. Then I will keep showing up for work and serving customers with a smile, because that’s what I want to do. Customer service is fun when you ham it up. HELLO! HOW MAY I HELP YOU!?

I feel cheery.

I like my new shirt and my aviator jacket.

To me, every chair I sit in is a cockpit chair for the spaceship I pilot through my life. When I sit with my arms on the armrest and both feet symmetrical on the floor, that’s what I am doing.

Have a peaceful week, mah readerz

A tangled web

I’m not sure what I was intending to type as comment to this picture. It doesn’t need it.

Oh look, I have a nosebleed. I’m going to bed, then.

What have you been up to lately?