Paradox (1966 hits)
Category: UberMadness!Rating: 0.51 on 66 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by UberMadness! (View user info) at 2006-12-05 08:31:32 EST
 |
This post is officially part of UberMadness!. Click here for more information on the rules and restrictions. |
Entry 1
Through the passage of time, (though the passage of time is hard to pinpoint; the sky here never wavers in its dull glare and I have taken to marking out days whenever I succumb to unconsciousness), I have become accustomed to this landscape. The hardened, cracked earth, the unchanging clear sky with no discernible sun, the jagged cliffs and the occasional dead tree. Contact is infrequent out here and mostly undesired, as most of the company I have entertained recently has done nothing but perplex me.Consider the advances of the Falcon Man. On my second (day?) in this wilderness, he approached me, a dark figure in a stark grey landscape. He wore a suit of some strange black material that shimmered in the strange, directionless light as he moved. Once, I saw lamp oil scattered across the surface of a pond; the fabric of the Falcon Man's suit displayed the same vibrant yet somehow sickening colours, moving slickly across the deceptive darkness. His face was jovial, unassuming, and his eyes dark but sparkling. He walked with the casual assurance of a born warrior or wealthy merchant.
I had been walking aimlessly, not even sure I was not revolving pointlessly about my own axis. I had no craft in the matter of such a journey, through such a hostile environment. No doubt my mind was filled with self-pitying thoughts, bemoaning my plight and other nonsense of a similar nature.
And there he was. I glanced to my left, and when my gaze returned to the miles in front of me, he had appeared. I saw nowhere he could have come from, he was merely there, and as much as a fact of the world as the stunted tree nearby or the gravity that bound me to its surface. He was comparatively distant to me at the time of his appearance, but he approached rapidly and was soon upon me, despite the fact that I had stopped in my tracks at spying another figure in the landscape.
He came close to me, close enough to make me uncomfortable. His eyes were a clear, unremarkable brown. His nose jutted, bladelike, from his face; it lent the overall impression of a bird's beak protruding from his otherwise normal face. His skin was weathered and tanned a deep brown, though clearly not from this sunless sky. He examined me closely, and I dared not move nor speak, such was his regard. I perceived him as a tightly coiled spring.
Then he stepped backwards and looked me up and down one final time. When he spoke, his voice brimmed with certainty and palpable good cheer.
"Not been here long?" he enquired.
I did not reply. I could not reply. He stared at me intensely, and sighed.
"No matter," he proclaimed, "It is of no great consequence. Surely it is intended for us to meet here. This means we have things to share with one another. I suspect we can learn from each other."
Again, no reply found my tongue. I was adrift; stuttering my way around a slate-grey, changeless world, and the contact with another reasoning, speaking being had confounded my voice and silenced my social mechanisms.
Noticing my lack of fortitude, and adapting to it, he continued on his own. "My dear boy!" he exclaimed. He smiled, and the smile was one of trusting companionship. "I see you have not the inclination to address me at this time. That is fine; respond when you are able. In the meantime perhaps you will not mind if I continue to speak?"
I nodded, and he flashed me another of his broad, relaxing smiles.
"Excellent! Now, may I ask, have you given any thought as to your purpose for being here? A nod will suffice." I bobbed my head up and down again, feeling foolish. "Man has always questioned his lot. This is nothing new, and certainly nothing to be ashamed of."
A minor miracle; from somewhere, I discovered my voice.
"Of course I have wondered! I have been adrift on this plain for some time. At least -" I hesitated "- at least I think I have. It is...hard..."
The Falcon Man chuckled. "Indeed," he said. "I must confess, I still don't quite have the working of it; it seems far too confusing. I believe I have been here quite some time, yet I cannot be sure."
His words deflated me. The confidence that he had exuded had led me to believe that he would somehow teach me something; give rise to enlightenment in my mind. But with his cheerful admission of his own ignorance, he had sent my hopes crashing into the muck.
Perhaps some of this dismay registered on my face; he waved a hand nonchalantly in the air.
"Take heart," he proclaimed, "All is not unknown. I have learnt things during my time here, and it would do you good to listen to them. Will you not sit upon the plain with me awhile?"
I accepted his offer. I had no real option. This was my only chance of understanding, or beginning to understand, the situation that I found myself in.
We sat, he and I, under the changeless sky, on that discouraging landscape, where the horizon stretched out, surrounding us completely. I felt as though the pair of us were truly alone, cut off from any semblance of society or humanity.
"Bear in mind," he told me, "that most things I shall tell you, I was merely told myself. A few others I discovered on my own, but the vast majority is mere hearsay." I accepted this with an eager nod of my head. "Perhaps you shall one day speak with the men that have instructed me."
I let this pass, for now. I decided that I might ask him about these men at a later point.
"The first thing I was told about this place is that we all come here because we have lessons to learn. This may seem vague to you, but it is a starting point. We are all in this place for a reason. None of us can claim innocence. The second thing I was told is that in order to escape, we must truly understand this place; yet you cannot gain full understanding without first escaping."
"Surely that is a paradox?" I said, puzzled and slightly annoyed. Where I was promised understanding, I was being presented with vague, apocryphal mutterings.
"I am assured that it is not. I do not pretend to understand such things myself." He seemed vexed by my challenge; for the first time, he was slightly knocked out of his cheerful stride. My question had not been particularly ill-tempered, yet his face was flushed and his jaw tightened noticeably. "I was also assured that this was far from impossible."
"I fail to see how that can be."
Now the anger was even more noticeable. "Ignorance! You have a great deal to learn. And you will shortly be given the opportunity to...progress."
He stood, without preamble, and gestured to his left, pointing in a direction that was apparently like all the others. I watched from my seat on the hardpan plain.
"On your feet!" he exclaimed. "I have not the time for your dallying!"
I rose, not exactly slowly, but exhibiting an air of unhurriedness that was not to his liking. His eyes narrowed.
"Cast your gaze yonder," he said.
I turned my head and looked in the direction he had pointed. When I did so, it was all I could do not to gasp. Before me, where there had been empty plain, there was now a town, sprawling across the landscape. Behind the town were the foothills of a vast range of mountains. None of this had been there (five minutes?) ago.
"Just remember to think in human terms," the Falcon Man told me. I looked at him. He still appeared displeased with me, but his temper seemed to be abating. "That is the limit of what I can tell you." I looked at the town once more, and when I turned back to Falcon Man, he was gone.
I walked towards the town for what seemed to be a short time, and suddenly it loomed upon me. I passed the first building, some sort of residential cottage, and I was seized with a sudden, yawning sense of unreality, that a man-made structure could exist out here, under a changeless, timeless sky.
There were very few signs of life in this town. A few chimneys puffed smoke into the featureless sky, but that was all I could discern. Nobody was travelling the streets, and nobody appeared from their homes to challenge me or speak to me. I made my way to the centre of town, noting the shuttered windows, the locked doors. Had I come to a dawning of false hope? Was the oasis in the desert nothing but a sham, an empty parody of human contact?
It was with these thoughts weighing upon my mind that I entered the central town square, an area almost completely enclosed, slightly different to the rest of the town. The rest of the town was very open, with large gaps between buildings. This square had only two gaps in the wall of buildings; the entrance where I found myself, and a path that appeared to begin the winding ascent into the mountains.
It was then, with the unnatural quiet of the town all around me, that I heard a faint noise. At first, I could not identify the sound; it was distant and elusive. I began walking towards the centre of the square, where a large well was situated. The sound was so faint that I could not hear it over my own footfalls. I stopped and waited, and it was not long before I heard the sound again. This time, I recognised it; sobbing, low and persistent. And I was fairly certain it was coming from the well.
I made haste to the well, placing my hands on the thick stones and peering into the depths. I should not have been able to see into the well, but the strange light of this place somehow enabled me to do so. Floating at the bottom of the well was a small child; a boy, I thought.
"Hello down there!" I called to him. The well made my voice echo in a strange manner.
His head snapped upwards. He paused his sobbing for a moment, and then began crying once more. I looked around. The well's bucket and rope were close at hand. I took up the bucket and cast it into the well.
"Grab a hold of that bucket, young man!" I shouted. He looked at me, and I could not see his expression clearly; but I thought it was disbelief. He fastened his hands on the bucket, and I hauled from the well, soaking wet and shivering with fright and cold. He could not seem to stop staring at me, with that same expression of disbelief.
"Why?" he asked, between teeth that chattered unnaturally loudly in the silent square.
"Why? Why did I help you?"
He nodded, hugging skinny arms across his own chest.
"You were stuck down in the well...why should I not help you?"
"They say that unless I die in the well, the town water goes bad. Sour, they said, sour. It happens every year. If they don't put someone down the well, the water kills people."
I stared at him. Could this possibly be true? If so, how could I justify removing the town's salvation, whatever the personal cost to the boy?
Think in human terms, the Falcon Man had said. But what were human terms? Was it the good of the town? Or the good of the child?
Could I bring myself to put him back in the well?
I could not.
"Would you like to travel with me?" I asked him; as a complete stranger who was dooming his town to possible destruction. But under this changeless sky, everything was beginning to seem normal to me.
He shook his head, and turned away from me, his saviour. He ran, utterly silent, from the square, back into the thick of town.
As for me, I squared my shoulders and left the town by the other exit, beginning my trek into the mountains. At least I now had a trail to follow, and it was an obvious road, leading into the ranges. I paused to rest, beside a large, rounded boulder. I could have sworn that I rested but a moment, but when I opened my eyes, a new surprise presented itself.
The formless sky had given way to a black vista, covered in shining, countless stars. Change had finally wrought itself upon my new world. I rose from the dust, and realised that I could feel the first pangs of hunger stab into my stomach. I realised I had not felt hunger for some time.
And so it was that I resumed my ascent into the mountains, hungry, aching, and alone, but filled with an inexplicable sense of rebirth. The Falcon Man said that I had a great deal to learn. I was beginning to suspect he was right.
- VS -
Entry 2
ReReflectingHi there. I've been, umm, I suppose you could say... living. Without much really. Aside from maybe, a real lust for kindness. And some thrift-store clothing. And a little bit of free-loading.
Just sorta, seeing how nice people are, ya know?
It's a great question, by my standards. One of the greatest. Are people good? I speculated yes. And yes, there is more than one way to find out; I just happened to choose the kindness-slash-freeloading-slash-unfashionable one.
"Where ya headed?"
"East."
"How far?"
"'Til I run outta land."
"Well hop in kid -- you're all right."
Just kidding. It never works like that. You gotta fight. Dig in and then fight. Sure, maybe some spots on the 101 are bumping. Maybe you can walk to any reasonable spot on the highway and stick out your thumb and some topless lesbians driving a convertible jag will stop for you. Or maybe you'll get people who take you home and smoke you full of dope and tear out some funky shit on the guitar and feed you organic uncooked vegetables.
But it ain't like that everywhere my friend.
I'll tell you some things, if you'd like. Take a knee, come close, listen up. Sit around the jungle fire and we'll eat some beans and swap some stories.
I'll go first.
It was El Centro, California, man, and as the name might imply, it was dead smack in the middle of California. Well, southern California. And this day, like every day, was a sunny one. It was on account of this fact that I was meeting all sorts of bums with skin like pudding skin.
If you like bums with skin resembling that of butterscotch pudding as it's cooked on the stove and then smooshed -- El Centro, California is the place for you.
Little known fact about bums and menace: the puddinger the skin, the greater the menace.
For example:
"Ain't trying to tell you what to do, but you go to the back of the seven-eleven and you look for these discarded nacho cheese bags. The machines don't suck it all out -- just grab a knife like this, and ya cut it open!"
And that crazy motherfucker stabbed that seven-eleven cheese bag right outta nowhere! He had the knife hiding behind the bag. It was a big hunting blade and it came plunging right through to the other side, along with his hand. Truly a grisly scene -- his wrinkled fist covered in cheese and the carnage of cheap plastic.
Then the fucker told me he was robbing me. "Gimme your backpack," he said. Or something clever like that.
That's when I started doubting the intentions of this man with the pudding skin. Can you believe that? He's holding an exasperated bag of seven-eleven nacho cheese, which he has just stabbed, and his skin looks like the worn stuff on a farm dog's ass, and it just now occurs to me to question his character.
It really did take all those triggers. That's how hard I was trying to be nice. That's how keen I was on kindness. I should have just walked away when he came, but that's what I'm talking about when I say you have to dig in.
"It is all yours, my pudding skinned friend," and I dropped my pack and swept aside with a gentle bow.
With my offering, I assumed came peace.
But Question: How many of us would then stand there on the side of the highway continuing to converse with the homeless man to whom we had just given our backpack, containing everything we required to live -- because he robbed us with a knife?
Show of hands?
Okay, put them down, I get your point.
But still, it takes a special kind of fellow. And that's what I mean when I say you have to dig in.
If you want to get rides, or get free stuff, or free yourself of all sense and responsibility, you must compete with the people attempting to do the same. And those people I will list on the blackboard here:
-The Homeless
-The Homeless Drug Addicts
-The Homeless Schizophrenic Drug Addicts
-The Homeless Homo Schizophrenic Drug Addicts
-The encompassing pudding skin populace
-America
Well, that's the Southwest, anyway. There are slight geographic variations.
Regardless of where you are, you must be prepared to face the insufferable masses. You must be willing to befriend the hobo; to bemoan the rich; to bequeath all possessions. Whatever the fuck that means.
And if you can do all those things -- even the nonsensical ones! -- then you have dug in, and are well on your way to finding freedom.
And this of course, is where the fighting comes in.
Cue fighting. His ring and pinkie fingers suddenly in my mouth, I bit down on them as hard as I could. I could feel the ring finger come clean -- right through the joint -- but the other broke with a grind. The blood and the cartilage and the chunks of bone made me gag and I threw up at the same time expelling his severed digits.
The man with the pudding skin and the hunting knife screamed and I remembered the skin and the knife. I looked down and found it stuck in my thigh. It began to burn and explode and forced my eyes open wide with terror. I screamed and he too screamed and blood was sprinkled all over the on-ramp.
For a moment I felt that he always wanted more than the bag.
What I must admit came as a bit of a surprise to me was a squealing of tires and a pop and an explosion of pain and one dead hobo, his chest now bleeding.
It was a Caucasian-American in a truck. Praise the Lord! -- a Caucasian-American in a truck! He had shot me through the arm, but more importantly, shot the hobo in the heart. An accident, no doubt; he was trying to save me.
"Thank you," I gasped.
Then I noticed he was reloading. My bowels released.
(Pretty soon the fighting starts. Just sit tight. A little drama, first. Love, kinda.)
"You shit yourself," he said.
"You only loaded one more bullet."
"I know."
"And you only had one in there to begin with."
"Yep."
"And you meant to shoot him, right?" I said, knife in my thigh and lead in my arm and still trying to remain optimistic.
"I meant to shoot both you fuckers -- I only had one bullet!" and he snapped the revolver shut.
I squeezed out what little I had left.
"Get in the car."
"You know," I said, "you're the first to stop and pick me up."
"Shut the fuck up."
I did as the man with the cowboy hat and one bullet in his gun said.
The fighting is now coming up. But it's not good fighting. Tell you what, I'll tell you the first part and then you decide if you want to hear the rest.
For now, a little bit more swooning.
"Where are we going?" I dared.
"To shut the fuck up."
Right. Had to shut up. Forgot about that. Knife in my thigh, you know? Bullet in my arm? Yeah. Things were looking kinda grim. And so my head was filled with all sorts of chemicals that only ever get released when you've found something truly exciting. So guess what I wanted to do at that very moment?
Something fun. I was keen on fun and friends and getting free stuff. I was looking for kindness. At all costs. And I'll be damned if I didn't find it.
"We're going to have some fun," he told me.
Oh, why goody, goody gumdrops! Which are sarcastic.
Moving on. To the fun.
Ready?
Hold on tight!
"Still shut the fuck up?" I asked, knowing I was pushing the limits but unable to control myself.
"You have one more sentence."
And I'll be damned if I didn't believe him. I tried to say something real meaningful for my last sentence. Something profound. I said: "What are we gonna do for fun?"
Yep. Swear up and down. That's what I said. Ahem. Kindness. Kindness was what I gave.
And what I got, was Russian Roulette. We were driving to the nearest gas station and in the restroom we were to play.
"Yeah, I play all the time," he said nonchalantly. It almost sounded like he was bragging.
"How the fuck do you play Russian Roulette all the time?"
"I go first," he said, and smiled.
Smiling. Ugh. What an awful thing for a cowboy to do. What an intolerable thing for someone holding a gun to do. I will write letters about people smiling with guns. All because of what happened next:
When I limped into that bathroom and saw him smiling at me from beneath cheap aviators and bucket hat, I really felt rotten. As most anyone would. It was his certainty more than anything that creeped me out. Or maybe it was the bare fluorescent lighting and the mildew-streaked tile. Or maybe the fiery pain in my arm and leg. No -- definitely the certainty. He was looking at me, smiling. Confident. Joyous. Death. He somehow knew that I would be the one to die. And he didn't look all that smart.
And that was fucked up.
I figured the second one would be the one. He had even kinda told me so. It sure wasn't the first one anyway. The hammer clicked. And then he handed the gun to me. I spun the chamber.
His eyes widened and he seemed to grow drunk and giddy. I just lifted the barrel and pointed it to his head and pulled the trigger. The smile was still on what was left of his face as he slumped to the ground. And then, on the mirror behind him, beneath all the globs and chunks and red was my smiling face, holding a gun.
That was the fight. That's why I will write letters about people holding guns and smiling, and this is where I ask you again if you want to go.
No? Then scooch closer.
I was shaken. As you might well imagine. But I was alive. And I had gotten my first free ride. And all of that together felt pretty good, in spite of all the rest. I dropped the gun, heavy and dull right where I stood, and hobbled my way out. The service station was empty, but there were cars at almost every pump. I stood there, wild and silent and weary, until I noticed the clerk's fuzzy head bobbing behind the counter. They heard the shots and saw my blood and got real scared.
There must have been ten people in the store.
"It's okay," I said, "I killed him."
A woman screamed.
"I'm just here to make friends," I assured her, "and maybe get an ambulance."
I heard the clerk dial the phone behind the counter. Three digits, and then some whispering. No one else dared rise either.
I thought that having dug in, and finally FOUGHT, that I would have earned the respect of America. Surely there was someone in here who would offer me a napkin or something to wipe up the blood? Even though I looked like I'd wandered in as the dying hobo from the set of American Psycho?
The budget remake?
"What about you my friend?" I cooed to a young boy clutching his mother behind the candy aisle. I could see them only because I had fallen to the ground.
"I'm scared," he said plainly.
Then I heard the glory of sirens and the store grew dark and an ambulance man told me to relax and I told him that I had a rough one today but there was always tomorrow and he shook his head.
"Give him the gas -- he's fucked."
Those were some pretty tough last words. You try taking those to Saint Peter. You know how the interview goes, right?
"Name?" Gwendolen Meyer.
"Faith?" Agnostic.
"Cause of death?" Loss of blood.
"Last words uttered?" What about you my friend.
"Last words heard?"
There's no fucking way, right? So I'm fighting. Even in my gassed out head I'm fighting. Seriously now, and I kid you not, I could see myself in stars and stripes boxer shorts dancing around alone in a ring inside my head. Literally, inside of my head.
As it was though, it was just that biased jerk pessimism. The medic had only knocked me out. So when I woke up, I was back to high spirits. High, high spirits.
You like Oxycontin, right?
Anyway, the nurses were old but some of them still quite flirtatious and the bed was more comfortable than any sleeping pad on any day. Shit, I was happy. And so I stretched the rules a little bit. Didn't break them! -- just eased them apart enough that I could slip through.
Sure, okay, maybe I made up a few ailments to keep me there longer; no harm, right?
Wrong.
Wrong.
Cue buzzer. Laughing, right? Cue the buzzer!? Sorry. Just come closer. Listen up. It's the best part!
Wrong.
This is America. My health insurance doesn't work down here. And guess what, it didn't work back then either.
One feigned tuberculosis, a case of phantom shingles, two severe flesh wounds later, and I owed the good people at El Centro General Hospital $77,008.56. At least they didn't round up the dollar.
Anyway, that was the end of that quest.
And in hindsight I guess it's more ironic than anything that I went looking for peace and freedom with an open heart and instead got stabbed and shot and robbed for broke.
But I think free bondage is a paradox.
Entry 1:
Anansie
babyg
Bubba2341
drgoatcabin
EchoBoxing
ghola
Hirilnara
HotWillie
Jack_McCallum
JMG114
JoeyG
nrduncan
peckerhead
rad1101
SPECIALk
St_Jimmy
Stagger_Lee
The_taste_of_Monkeys
thecaes
TheUniter
17 eligible votes (20 total) *
Entry 2:
august_sobriquet
Axolotl
CaptainThorns
charminglybeef
Crystle
darko
Davros
Doodles
DrogoRoch
FunnyAsCancer
GodChicken
Hiredugan
horse87
indoninja
IntangibleHands
joedaddy
JonnyX
justagirl27
Natsukau
ripple
Sacrilicious
sicosemen
sparkle_pink
stevie_says
supadupapupa
TimetoDance
yhywstudios
24 eligible votes (27 total) *
* Eligible votes are those made by users who had either (A) posted 3+ messages OR (B) written 100+ [lowered from 750+] reviews as of the beginning of the UberMadness! competition.
User Reviews
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-12-10 21:44:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This is all beef's fault...if the fucker could've kept his win percentage higher we wouldn't have met yet. Inconsiderate son of a bitch.
Submitted by peckerhead (user info) at 2006-12-09 12:56:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2006-12-09 12:23:45 (#)
Ranking: 0
Aww, you are both being so graceful. I thought it was a tough choice, and wouldn't have been suprised about the win, either way. I think the votes should have been closer. You guys are two examples of why even when the front page is clogged with shit, there is a reason to keep coming back. Stop being so modest. You both rocked it this round.
------------------------
well said.
Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2006-12-09 12:23:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Aww, you are both being so graceful. I thought it was a tough choice, and wouldn't have been suprised about the win, either way. I think the votes should have been closer. You guys are two examples of why even when the front page is clogged with shit, there is a reason to keep coming back. Stop being so modest. You both rocked it this round.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-12-09 12:16:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by morontian (user info) at 2006-12-09 12:09:25 (#)
Ranking: 0
Noted. As long as we agree that Steppenwolf sucked the cock, we seem to be on the same page.
************
I hope you are NOT talking about the 60s banbd, because they were awesome. The novel by Hesse
can be construed as good or bad, depending on your viewpoint.
Submitted by morontian (user info) at 2006-12-09 12:09:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Noted. As long as we agree that Steppenwolf sucked the cock, we seem to be on the same page.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-12-09 11:41:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by morontian (user info) at 2006-12-09 11:28:31 (#)
Ranking: 0
#1 did just seem like a bunch of wordy bullshit to me. #2 was entertaining.
*************
What's wrong, Moron? Do words of more than one syllable confuse your two brain
cells? Stay away from Shakespeare, Dickens, Poe, Whitman, Lovecraft, Shelley,
Verne, or any author of literary merit. This is a writing contest, not the
Sunday funnies. Stick to fishing, it requires no brain...
Submitted by morontian (user info) at 2006-12-09 11:28:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
#1 did just seem like a bunch of wordy bullshit to me. #2 was entertaining.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-12-09 06:48:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
For what it's worth, I don't think the best entry won here. I'm kind of surprised more people went for Entry 2 because it's very quirky and random.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-12-08 20:56:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2006-12-08 13:20:45 (#)
Ranking: 2
Stagger_Lee, if I know you, you went to Wikipedia and looked up 'paradox'.
Well, that's what I did anyway, and I didn't find myself terribly inspired. In fact, I fought long and hard against it, and tried to think of some clever way to use the title that didn't actually involve a freaking paradox. I really, really struggled with this one.
I scrapped my original story with 36 hours left and just hammered this one out. And because of that, I think it's painfully clear which piece is more cohesive and intelligent. But even on my best days, I still feel like you're the better writer -- in terms of language, and the spinning of tales.
I feel like I cheated my way through on style and laughs alone here -- no content at all really. I think that's reflected in some of the comments and in the people who chose to vote for you.
All things considered, I think this was a good matchup. I certainly thought of this as my toughest test, and knew I had to pull something good out of my ass. I like to think you felt the same way, and as much as I hate to bitch and moan about the title, I really think we would have had something special with a bit more 'options'.
Cheers.
------------
I don't even feel I should've gotten this far...I've had a win percentage inflated by competing against 2 forfeits, and last round I somehow came away with a huge win percentage despite my story being a bit of a drunken mess. I haven't made the time for this contest that it probably deserves. This entry, which lost just now, is the best thing I've written in this compo so far, and it's not that good. The ending is rushed (but I would disagree with it being unfinished, I had no plans for a sequel while I wrote it, but now I might give it a go) and apparently it didn't make sense to enough people.
I also fucked up the bit where it was explained WHY this was a paradox, not a catch-22.
I didn't put that on the uberboard.
Basically what I'm trying to say with all that rambling is that my luck finally caught up with me, that's all, and that I haven't really belonged in this round due to merit.
Good luck, beefy. I hope you win the goddamn thing.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-12-08 16:44:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Are you suuure stevie didn't write this?
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2006-12-08 16:25:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
There's no denying it's a loose story. As far as direct 'meaning', I think it's up to you how you wish to interpret it. Who knows if the author had a specific idea. But there is conflict, in the form of the character against his environment, and even the character against himself; and there is resolution, in his acceptance of the situation, and the progress he has made towards finding peace.
If I had to guess why that message is on the board, I would say it probably comes from this:
"#1 was a total mess of random words strung together - I just gave up on reading it when it started repeating itself."
Personally, I found the prose to be flowing and concise and very fitting of the story.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-12-08 15:15:46 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
I stand by my earlier words - #1 is unending exposition, with no plot whatsoever.
Seriously, I don't understand the point of the story - can someone explain it to me? Preferably the pussy who put that comment up on the Uberboard?
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2006-12-08 13:20:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Stagger_Lee, if I know you, you went to Wikipedia and looked up 'paradox'.
Well, that's what I did anyway, and I didn't find myself terribly inspired. In fact, I fought long and hard against it, and tried to think of some clever way to use the title that didn't actually involve a freaking paradox. I really, really struggled with this one.
I scrapped my original story with 36 hours left and just hammered this one out. And because of that, I think it's painfully clear which piece is more cohesive and intelligent. But even on my best days, I still feel like you're the better writer -- in terms of language, and the spinning of tales.
I feel like I cheated my way through on style and laughs alone here -- no content at all really. I think that's reflected in some of the comments and in the people who chose to vote for you.
All things considered, I think this was a good matchup. I certainly thought of this as my toughest test, and knew I had to pull something good out of my ass. I like to think you felt the same way, and as much as I hate to bitch and moan about the title, I really think we would have had something special with a bit more 'options'.
Cheers.
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2006-12-08 11:12:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by peckerhead (user info) at 2006-12-08 11:03:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
copied from my previous comment:
"As good as these stories were, I think there was more potential. Maybe I was hoping for the ultimate paradox?! I guess I was hoping that one of you would take me to a "Wow" experience where there were simply no more words -- or where words were somehow inadequate."
-------------------------------
Here are a couple of possible examples:
1. What happens when the irresistible force meets the immoveable object? (not original by any means; a classic high school science riddle.)
2. Q. What is outside our solar system?
A. Other solar systems, galaxies, stars
Q. What is outside of all of that?
A. Difficult question; Infinity, I suppose
Q. I don't understand. What do you mean by infinity?
A. I've got a headache; let's talk about this another time.
The point: Words like infinity get tossed about -- even by children. I'm not sure I even want to meet the guy/gal that fully understands *infinity*.
Maybe it's like chess where the same game -- or game position -- is viewed differently by different people, according to I.Q. and previous exposure or experience. food for thought.
My hat is off to both authors for really giving this a serious effort. Great work!
Submitted by august_sobriquet (user info) at 2006-12-08 09:48:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
really enjoyed both of these.
Submitted by Hirilnara (user info) at 2006-12-08 08:44:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2006-12-08 04:43:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Both strange tales. #2 just grabbed me more with the style of writing.
Damn this round has some good entries.
Submitted by SPECIALk (user info) at 2006-12-08 03:16:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
1, good stuff
2, kind of all over the place, but i liked it anyway
You both have very distinct writing styles...too bad someone has to lose.
Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2006-12-08 02:21:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
These were both really good, in my opinion. It was a hard choice.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2006-12-08 02:07:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2006-12-08 01:40:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-12-07 23:27:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
What an intolerable thing for someone holding a gun to do. --> that's a great line. Entry 2 had some really cool lines, but overall was scattered, and it confused me. The style was different and unconventional, and not in a bad way, but at the end I felt like I had just read someone's recollection of a drug trip.
Entry 1 was interesting...it had a dreamy, absurd feel to it as well, but tempered with some structure and story progression. Good job author 1.
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2006-12-07 17:26:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
wow - tough vote! I finished number one ready to vote without reading...
but I read 2 anyhow (i'm good like that) now I have a conundum
Very well done, both of you.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-12-07 14:43:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-12-07 07:53:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by justagirl27 (user info) at 2006-12-07 01:21:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-12-06 21:52:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh yeah, the vote.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-12-06 21:51:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow. This is the toughest vote for me this round. And if it's the pair I think it is, then I suspected as much. The differences in style here make it an even tougher call for me.
#1 was well-written and great, thematically. However, I needed more. Generally, these intro type entries, no matter how good they are, can appear to come up short in a comp. If the action had been extended a bit, it may have changed my mind. I'd love to read the next chapter, absolutely.
#2- I loved the style of this..sort of a modern Kerouac feel to it. The language and the energy of the piece really did it for me. These are two other details that wouldn't necessarily decide my vote, but when all is said and done, this time, they win.
Submitted by IntangibleHands (user info) at 2006-12-06 18:19:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by drgoatcabin (user info) at 2006-12-06 16:20:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by St_Jimmy (user info) at 2006-12-06 15:50:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was tough. #2 was good, but #1 was really wierd, and Falcon Man made me think of Harvey Birdman, so #1 it was.
Submitted by ripple (user info) at 2006-12-06 10:01:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-12-05 18:06:07 (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry #1 had some VERY effective writing. I just hope you don't lose votes if some dumbasses consider the entry 'unfinished.'
---
:D im that dumbass. i agree with the effectiveness of the writing. and it really portrayed the whole existentialist-traveler motif well. but i like things that are at least kind of tied together.
no, that wasnt just me trying to say that im not a dumbass.
okay, maybe.
Submitted by ripple (user info) at 2006-12-06 09:57:46 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
i liked one a lot, but it was a chapter, not an entry.
if the author continued it outside of UM, i would read it.
Submitted by babyg (user info) at 2006-12-06 07:31:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2006-12-06 02:09:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by supadupapupa (user info) at 2006-12-05 22:55:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I sympathize with title pick, both were far out and pretty good I thought. But at the end I had to go with number 2. It was more entertaining for me, and I liked the SoC style.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-12-05 22:11:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by peckerhead (user info) at 2006-12-05 21:37:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Entry 1: That seemed more like a Catch 22 than a paradox.
Entry 2: "But I think free bondage is a paradox." Free bondage sounds more like an oxymoron than a paradox.
I'm splitting hairs; What's the difference between a 'catch 22', a paradox, and an oxymoron? Probably not much.
As good as these stories were, I think there was more potential. Maybe I was hoping for the ultimate paradox?! I guess I was hoping that one of you would take me to a "Wow" experience where there were simply no more words -- or where words were somehow inadequate.
Let's face it. There are some experiences (a sexual orgasm, Nirvana, Enlightenment) which defy description. These things must be experienced first hand. And yet, we must communicate. How do you communicate... how do you explain something that defies explanation? quite the paradox :-) Good luck to the winner.
Submitted by TimetoDance (user info) at 2006-12-05 20:44:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-12-05 20:21:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Natsukau (user info) at 2006-12-05 19:38:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by GodChicken (user info) at 2006-12-05 18:23:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-12-05 18:07:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Puddinger?
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-12-05 18:06:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry #1 had some VERY effective writing. I just hope you don't lose votes if some dumbasses consider the entry 'unfinished.'
Author #2 shit the bed with this line - "Little known fact about bums and menace: the puddinger the skin, the greater the menace."
Puddinger?
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2006-12-05 17:23:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Entry one possessed a keen understanding of an introspective hero's journey, and I wish that it was longer, which (in this competition) is rare.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-12-05 17:22:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
At least #2 tried to be interesting, if not convoluted.
#1 was a total mess of random words strung together - I just gave up on reading it when it started repeating itself
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-12-05 17:01:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by horse87 (user info) at 2006-12-05 16:54:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by EchoBoxing (user info) at 2006-12-05 14:31:00 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
you guys should try again
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-12-05 14:10:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
at least this better be stevie's, it sure seemed like something he would write.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-12-05 14:09:36 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Sorry JoeyG, but you didn't even come close.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-12-05 14:08:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by yhywstudios (user info) at 2006-12-05 13:16:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2006-12-05 13:05:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought O-man got knocked out.
Why's he still writing about Russian Roulette dude?
Submitted by nrduncan (user info) at 2006-12-05 12:42:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2006-12-05 12:40:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
joedaddy stamp of approval
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2006-12-05 12:22:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2006-12-05 11:49:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-12-05 10:38:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Didn't particularly care for either, flipped a coin.
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2006-12-05 10:36:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Both of these were awesome, number two just being awesomer.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-12-05 10:20:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2006-12-05 09:53:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Doodles (user info) at 2006-12-05 09:44:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Just didn't like number 1, sorry.
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-12-05 09:15:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
#1 was awesome.
#2 was also good, but nowhere as good as #1. And the Russian roulette thing kind of reminded me of Orgasmatron's "Undefeated", and this didn't live up to that standard either. Still good though.
Submitted by Hiredugan (user info) at 2006-12-05 09:09:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
All I can say is that #2 just kinda grabbed me more.