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999 days ago
Working hypothesis 1: From any given point in time there is a certain finite number of probable sequence, each with its own probability of occurring. It can be assumed that some of these sequences have a higher probability than others. (For example, while running across the street, the probability of being run over by a maddened horde of elephants is much lower than being run over by a car) Working hypothesis 2: Some people can see, or sense, these probability lines and/or collapse a certain desired probability function. This can be extended to say that collapsing the waves is easier in certain states of mind or certain places. For those who don’t know what a probability wave or function is, it belongs to the realm of quantum physics and is best explained by the example of Schroedinger’s cat. This is the simplified experiment, which doesn’t involve nuclear disintegration (bear in mind that it is a mental experiment): You put a cat in a box. You spray ...
1203 days ago
This is a story I've written a couple of years ago, one of the few I've actually managed to finish.It was originally in Romanian, so I had to translate it. It's incredible how hard it is to translate something even if I've written it myself. Anyway, here goes. Hope you like it. I'd appreciate comments. The tree moved his leaves in the warm summer wind. He had always liked the long august afternoons. For a long, long time, he had been standing there on the hill, looking down at the river valley. The view hadn’t really ever changed: the same green meadows, the same river, the same blue mountains in the distance. It’s true, the few houses on the river bank kept changing. Now they were modern holiday houses, to which humans had brought electricity. Actually, they had been called modern before, in their own way. Each owner, in his turn, had been proud of his house and its utilities. The old tree was very interested in humans. There’d been so many summers in which ...
1246 days ago
There is something magical about sunsets. (And maybe about sunrises too, but I'm rarely awake to watch them) Maybe because of the light, maybe because it's an end, maybe because it's neither day or night. Or maybe they just are. After both me and Em had had a horrible day, we decided, after a nice meal and a very depressing talk, to go for a little walk on the sea front in Morecambe. Ok, not the nicest place in the world, but that night it offered a strange view. The sky was clear to the west and you could see the sun almost setting in the sea, but dark storm clouds were massed behind us, giving an eerie light. The tide was out, leaving behind boats stranded in the mud and patches of grass. Looking at this and having in mind our earlier talk and my doubts about everything at the moment, I came to understand better what 'west of the sun' means. It's an image from Murakami's 'South of the border, west of the sun'. As children, the two main characters used to ...
1255 days ago
"I like to write when I feel spiteful. It is like having a good sneeze." (D. H. Lawrence) If there is one thing I truly hate that is lies. I don't mean people not telling the truth , that is different. But if someone invents a whole story, with or without good reason, I lose all respect for that person. And I lose all my trust: if someone's lied once then they can do it again and again. I like to believe the best of people, especially if they are my friends. If someone needs my help, I'll do my best, without asking too many questions. On the other hand I have a pretty good intuition, so I generally know what's going on around me. Which means that if someone comes to me with a completely fantastic story I'll be in a pretty difficult situation: I can't just come out with the fact that I don't believe a word, but I can't just continue being their friend. And there is one more thing: I often noticed that ...
