A Short History of Nearly Everything

Such a good book. Especially for a clouded mind. It in no way helps with my confusion or solving my problems, but it distracts me so easily and completely. And sometimes that is the best solution.

Thanks Bill.

Cloudy Clear Ethan..

"A.l.w.a.y.s Attract"

...my heart's out at sea, my head's all over the place...

Such a good song.

I'm going to Japan in a couple of days and I think that'll well and truly sort me out. I'm feeling like the best is now. Or snow.

I can not wait for the numbing combination of cold, anonymity and adventure.

...you can make your own decisions, you can make your own mistakes...

Hoping the next couple of years pan out as planned. But I'm sure that they probably won't, and it doesn't really matter because if they don't, there'll be something else. There a.l.w.a.y.s is.

...I'll be home in a day, I fear that's a month too late...

It's almost a feeling of nothingness. It's a good thing, I guess. It's like I don't think about anything anymore, but I'm a.l.w.a.y.s thinking about everything - at the same time.

It's good knowing that there are plenty of awesome people out there. I meet someone awesome almost every day. It's good knowing I'm having the fun that I used to.

I don't think that anything is a.l.w.a.y.s.

But who knows. I'm not really the biggest believer in plans or rules either. It's hard to trust them.

Still looking for my castle in the clouds.

You Me At Ethan..

No Labyrinth

Life is a maze, not a labyrinth;

to succeed, you need persistence, knowledge, and a bit of luck...

Or enough money to buy a helicopter.

A Mazing Ethan

Australia Day

You know what,

I love Australia.

I don't like all the bogans and wankers who force foreigners to kiss the flag, and I don't like the people who have Southern Cross tattoos (besides Andy. He appears to be OK. Time shall tell.)

But I love the day. Every year I hug absolute randoms for the hell of it. I high-five people I've never seen before and they are so happy that I've done so. I run into recently-proclaimed Australians and they say how awesome it is to have completed their citizenship and be one of this nation.

BUT... In all facets of life, there are bad apples.

Fuck them.

That's not what this nation was built on. Life is awesome. Australia is awesome. And its awesome because we accept all people, as long as they're happy and honoured to be here.

Happy Invasion Day Australia.

Love Ethan..

Mary Celeste

So basically this is one of the greatest nautical mysteries in history.

In the early afternoon of December 4th, 1872, the crew aboard the Canadian brigantine, Dei Gratia, spotted a ship in the distance off the Strait of Gibraltar. The ship was under sail and moving erratically, slightly to starboard.

As they got closer they realised that she was the Mary Celeste (often incorrectly spelt Marie due to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's fictional book that used several factual details surrounding this mystery) and that there were no sailors on deck. When they came aboard they found that all the important documents were missing (except for the Captain's logbook), there was enough food and water onboard to last six months, and there was no sign of struggle.

This was the mystery I know and love.

Unfortunately, a little research has proven this tale to be a slight fabrication, spiralling me into a despair akin to when I learnt that lemmings did not, in fact, commit mass cult suicide by leaping off cliffs.

There are some important facts that have been conveniently left out of this tale; for one, the inside of the ship was "a thoroughly wet mess". This is somewhat sad to read, as I had always heard the fantastical ghost story of sailors boarding the empty vessel to find warm soup and tea on clean dinnerware, lit candles, and no sign of a struggle.

Well at least there was no sign of struggle. The only things out of the ordinary were a loose rope with one frayed end dragging in the water behind the ship; the missing documents; the one and only lifeboat was gone; the ship's clock which was not functioning; the compass had been smashed by some object; the sextant and marine chronometer were missing; and that of the 1701 barrels of alcohol that the vessel shipped from New York's East River, nine were found to be empty.

From this, people have theorised that perhaps rough sea conditions had knocked over the nine barrels, and the fumes were ignited by the galley's oven. This sent the crew into a panic and they quickly gathered some navigational equipment, papers and other useful tools, dropped the tiny lifeboat and tied it a safe distance from the Mary Celeste (this was the standard procedure for fires on vessels at sea - the crew would hope that the fire would burn down to an extinguishable level, and then they would haul themselves back aboard).

Unfortunately it is also standard procedure to take-in the sails beforehand. This quite apparently did not happen.

It seems that the explosion and flame from the ignited alcohol left no damage to the ship, and the Captain and crew were unlucky enough to have the ship (under sail) pull away from them so rapidly that it snapped the rope holding them to it.

They then had to watch their perfectly sailable and seaworthy vessel (and it's incredibly valuable cargo) steadily drift away from them.

One little mistake.

Ah screw that "intelligently weighed" explanation! I say ghosts or aliens or giant sea creatures or dinosaurs or Elvis took them. I love a good ghost story.

Commodore Ethan..

Opium

Sometimes you dream of mountains,

Sometimes the mountains dream of you.

Enough now.

The pipe dreams go round and round.

"...all the words of mice and men..."

Ouch Ethan..

"A Rough Guide"

I have been reading Bill Bryson's "A Short History of Nearly Everything". It is awesome. Pretty much all the subject matter that I like to read, in the style that I like to read. I can tell that the next few posts are going to be influenced or inspired by this book. You have been warned.

"Do Writers Have A Right To Strike?"

From Kurt Vonnegut's "Cat's Cradle"

"When a man becomes a writer, I think he takes on a sacred obligation to produce beauty and enlightenment and comfort at top speed." - Jonah

If writers and literature didn't exist:

"...how proud would you be when people started dying like flies?" - Jonah

"They'd die more like mad dogs, I think - snarling and snapping at each other and biting their own tails." - Philip Castle

"Sir, how does a man die when he's deprived of the consolations of literature?" - Jonah

"In one of two ways: putrescence of the heart or atrophy of the nervous system." - Philip Castle

Words, Part II

I don't think I agree with the saying "a picture is worth a thousand words". Yes, I can see where it's coming from, the point, etc., but I think a single word can evoke countless images. Perhaps it's just my thought-process - my obvious preference for words rather than pictures - but think about words like love, wisdom, fun, magic, stupidity, happiness, despair (really all emotions); don't they evoke a thousand images? Hmmm. It could just be me.

Delirious Ethan..

Neil Gaiman's Splinter of Glass

The old man reached out for the hard leather gloves on the workbench in front of him. A drop of sweat lost its grip on the end of his crooked nose and fell onto his hand. He smeared the dirt covering his knuckles as he wiped it off.

He worked the bellows, stoking the coals of the bright forge, then grabbed the long blowpipe and rested it comfortably on the rusted support. He breathed in deeply, and blew a long, practiced breath into the pipe.

The glass grew. It grew round and sagged towards the clay floor.

The old man smiled and picked up the fullers. He began sculpting.

It's a hard task to sculpt glass. The old man's arms were wiry and dark, like that of a blacksmith. They had old scars from older burns - a testament to his youth, when he was bold, and foolish. The old man pressed into the glass, forcing it to bend and shape as he wanted. He had the soft, delicate and accurate touch of a surgeon, or perhaps a sapper working on his petard.

When he was finished, he opened a shutter and let the cold air and snow soften the flames, and harden his creation.

He held it against the fluttering firelight, admiring the lines; the crevices; the slight indentations that perhaps only he would know existed. He smiled.

A tear rolled down the old man's face. He sighed and lowered his head. He tossed the glass animal into the corner of the cabin, where it smashed into pieces and joined the pile of other broken creations. Only the old man knew what anonymous piece belonged to which beautiful creation.

He sat back on his stool by the forge, stoking the fire with the bellows, and whispered to himself,

"That was the closest one yet."

Fragile Ethan..

A Word Is Worth A Thousand Pictures, Part I

I will elaborate further on my title, no time now I must sleep. But I wanted to post some random photos that I've been taking lately. I guess I'll just post them on the day that they're taken:

Poker game at the boys' house. Saw my castle in the clouds.

My pet giant moth.

Ethan..

Not-So-Super

If I could choose a Superpower to possess, it would be the ability to fly as fast as I can; I could never miss out on a trip or fun times anywhere. If I wanted to be with someone on the other side of the world, I could be, with time to spare to get back and make myself some tea before work. I could take people wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. I could see everything.

If I could choose a Not-So-Superpower, it would be the complete control over my body and mind. I have missed so many opportunities in my life because of over-thinking, or just thinking the wrong thing. I've always known how I must think, I've always known how I must feel, but damn it, my mind just won't leave me alone. I've tried a few ways of quieting my mind - this is one of the most effective - but I'm getting better. I feel that this year is the year. Everything is going to work out. One day I will be.

Confused Ethan..

Letting Myself Go, Part II

I really don't know what I am going to do with my life. And although it sometimes scares me, I sort of like that. I've got these short term plans that I'm really looking forward to, that will take me around the world, and thrill me, and test me, and I'm hoping that in these travels I'll find some inspiration.

But I'm somewhat passionless. I'm not saying that I don't have passion; I mean it in the sense that I don't really have a passion for any one activity. Well, my one passion is learning, which means I'm passionate about knowing a little bit about as many things as possible, but unfortunately I would find it difficult to find a career that is entirely focussed around me learning new and exciting (often ridiculous and irrelevant) things.

I've always been passionate about people though. Selfishly, it's not in the sense that I want to do social work or help my fellow man; it's in the sense that I'd probably do anything to make the people I love happy. But again, that doesn't help clarify my direction for the future. I'm doing psychology this year at university. Maybe that will give me some kind of inspiration.

But the weirdest thing is, I don't think I want something to do for the rest of my life. I don't think I could stay in the same job for more than five years or so. I don't know what I want to be or where I want to be. These things don't really seem important to me. If you're reading this, you've most probably read my previous posts, which means you'd know that I've always pictured myself walking alone through mountains. I don't think I'd do that in the lone-ranger/hunter sense - finding my own food and so forth (that would be awesome but I do not possess the required know-how) - but I think it's simply an image of travelling.

And that suits my passion to learn about a lot of different things. It suits my desire not to do one thing my whole life. But I am scared that it could be lonely. After all, I'm passionate about those I love. It would be difficult to leave them all behind. I guess it's one or the other. Damn this world and the impossibility of possessing cake and eating it too. Well, actually, for the next couple of years I will be metaphorically eating and owning cake. I guess I've got that time to think things through.

Good Luck Ethan..

Smile. :-)

Everytime. :-)

Ethan..

Seems As Nice A Spot As Any

Ethan..

Swimming In A Fish Bowl

Water drips down the walls of my house.

On the inside, and out.

The paint weeps and melts,

Forming a rubbery lump of folds and colour on the floor.

Two droplets are drawn together,

Forcing their way over the dust.

They cling and join to form a spot.

Two spots form a pool.

Then there is an ocean.

It consumes my house.

It fills every space, swallowing everything,

Yet leaving everything in its place.

All that is missing from this fish bowl is the treasure chest.

The bubbles stop and the liquid becomes solid.

The light azure has grown a dangerous dark.

Yet somehow it soothes,

As if this gelatinous blob is seeping into a deep burn.

Can one fathom the depth of the ocean?

A million fathoms of thought and profundity.

And water.

And air.

And life.

It steals the colour and light.

But gives so much back.

This is a random... thing?... that I wrote in about fifteen minutes. It's been a long time in the making though as it's been swimming in my head for a while, and it certainly has a lot of contributors. It's somewhat inspired by verses from Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here and The Rocket Summer's Do You Feel?, and my recent self-evaluation and experimentation of nothingness. I have no idea where my head is at.

Annnd I think I found a perfect picture for it.

Ethan..

IntoleRANT VagRANT CorroboRANT

There seems to be two main groups that I run into in my travels: the hardcore church-goers (or what I like to call "The God-Botherers"), and the outrageous "I Like To Party People". In my experience, it seems like the God-Botherers' role in life is to bring as much attention to their wholesomeness as possible, while the I Like To Party People (ILTPP. Everyone loves abbrevs. See?) seem intent on advertising their unwholesomeness, under the guise of the popular slogan "Partaaay".

I don't like this urge to draw attention to one's moral status.

But I especially dislike this polarisation of society. It seems to be a de-evolution of humanity into the Neanderthalic logic of Safety in Numbers. But the humourous thing is, it has come about by the popular desire to be different - which has resulted in these two opposing sides of culture. But then only half of the people are different. So which are unique? Which are robots?

Why do people wish to be different? And in doing so, why do they latch on to other's beliefs, appearance, mannerisms, opinions, etc, etc, etc? Is it truly the ancient "Safety in Numbers" defence mechanism?

No one is chasing you. Please stop. Divide. You won't fall as the song proclaims.

Why can't we live in the happy medium between the God-Botherers and ILTPP? Where everyone is happy, fun, friendly, quirky, and willing to enjoy everything that the world has to offer as long as it isn't hurting anyone. I've got a couple of friends who I believe live within this happy medium (for argument's sake let's call it the "Province of Awesome") and they fit the description of what the population of a Utopia would be. I thank every influencing planetary force that these people exist, although they are certainly few and far between.

The delightful dwellers of the Province of Awesome believe what they want to believe, do what they want to do, and be who they want to be, yet somehow manage to be selfless. It's not like they don't care what other people think - this is often a slogan God-Botherers or ILTPP use to support their polarity. (But it's obviously a fabrication, since both groups do the same thing, so therefore they must care what other people think. Right?) But I digress.

The happy inhabitants of the Province of Awesome do care what other people think. It's not something to be ashamed of. In fact you'd be a self-obsessed idiot not to care about others and their opinions. It is here that I'd like to explain that there is a huge difference between caring what other people think, and agreeing with every opinion proposed to you. If people were to listen to others, trust, and then make a decision that would be the best for them, and all involved, then this would surely be a Utopian society.

"Perhaps the preacher should practice what he preaches," you say? You are absolutely correct. I don't believe I'm within the Province of Awesome yet. But one day... one day. Perhaps this rant is the start of my journey. Or the start of someone else's.

Vagrant Ethan..

Castles

Castles are awesome. Soon I shall be tripping around and seeing as many as I can of them. And one day I'll hopefully live in one. Or a house that is equally as awesome. Stay tuned.

Count Ethan

Letting Myself Go, Part I

Wandering, Wondering..

Ethan..