Dash of artistry

I have such an extreme appetite.

I want to create, I want people to consume what I create. But will I ever stop creating what I want to create to create what appeals to the masses?

No. Not really. I have a vision and it's only worth fullfilling if I feel the joy of creation in and off itself.

I will contine to make things I think others of similar taste will like.

I also think that if this is my one chance. If the universe is finite, I want to dash madly to create, to be, to breath and to live life with every breath. Aah but I digress...

Sometimes my artistic visions are held back because I don't think people will understand or accept my darker side. But sometimes it's precisely those sides I want to articulate with the paintbrush of my mind.

On a personal level and on the stage I want to be transparent with who I am. Of course on a need to know basis. But as an artist things will shine through in some of the things I create, write like and repost/reblog.

Up until this point in my life I've been playing the chameleon in many situations. I've held back my word on opinions I oppose. I've stayed silent when words should have been spoken. I've been holding back. My body is a tool, a canvas. From now on I will attempt to paint it with colors of a more vivid spectrum.

We will see where I end up. But if I end up shocking someone, remember, if you ever cared about me before, chances are you read my blog and was warned ahead of time. It's not me, it's you!

On a final note. If I'm feeling creative should I go to sleep and hope the urge returns or should I stay awake nights upon nights knowing eventually I'll fall apart having created something amazing? I'm leaning towards the second option. That urge can be rare at times, and oh so very delicate. At the moment all I'm trying to do is just find a balance between the chaos and the order.

See you on the other side!

Signed, Mireneye

Hexagonica Renascence #01 - Prolouge

Hexagonica Renascence is a remake of my old short story Hexagonica. I'm going to repost here, an explanation of the original Hexagonica. It's a difficult piece to fathom. You'll understand when you read it. And lastly I'll post the new prolouge. Enjoy!

In addition I will try to write an additional short story covering the fate of one of the planes at a later date. Time to reimagine this old story with sharper language, better dialouge and wittier banter, and even more mindbending complete insanity.

Before you move on, Hexagonica, while unique in it's multifacetted nature, in trying to be... everything and nothing bares heavy inspiration from the wicked and the weird. What kindled the spark this time is a mixture of the excellent Night Vale podcast and a healthy dose of sleep deprivation and lots and lots of dreaming; And dare I say a great deal of sexual explorations?

Hexagonica in a nutshell:

One of my most profound pieces is the story of Hexagonica. With Hexagonica I crafted a world to play with freely in which no convention or boundary was needed. I was sleep deprived, probably hadn't eaten correctly in days and been really deep into philosophy and had a decent mixture of odd influences from games and movies when I started to type the first words of the story.

But what is Hexagonica? It is the beginning of a universe. A story meant to portray a certain kind of advent chaos that we really could never begin to understand unless we extracted a chunk of it and present it in chosen pieces. Reading the true "Hexagonica" story would be the equivalent of trying to see a hypercube.

And as you may or may not know, we can only project a hypercube into three dimensional space to approximate it. The same goes with Hexagonica.

Hexagonica doesn't have compelling characters, and the story arch and ending is a mess. It has a few clichés. It's actually trash, from a conventional point of view.

Having read it several times and having it spark numerous philosophical debates I've come to realize that the nature of the story that is Hexagonica transcends that of the paper it's written on. There is almost always somebody pointing out a new reference or a new philosophical point I never intended and as such those people shape the story as they read.See when I wrote it there were no rules I just wrote whatever came to my mind. In the end it didn't need interesting characters. It was "deep" enough on it's own.

Hexagonia Renascence: Prolouge

The Wind of voices, the Speaker of heart and the Follower of pathless prose displayed a trinity force bent on the fabrication of the fates of Hexagonica.

The Wind, known for a pitch perfect hearing of all life and their conditions. Reimagine the laws of nature in accordance with reality.

The Speaker, a proponent of Chaos, a stringent rule of love in cosmic proportion.

The Follower, a poet of unpedictable patterns. Forger of unborn infinities.

A splash of void spread like poison through the Voice the Wind and the Words. Conjoining the trinity into a multi dimensional implosion.  At the end, matter was unmade. The singularity died. And nothing thrived.

Then Nothing realized that it could not exist for it's own existance was truly paradox.  Denying all logic, because here it was. Nothing. For infinities across various non spatial dimensions Nothing remained questioning if something would ever happen and it did.

-Rock, paper, scissor anyone?
It's own voice emitting into the void.

-I must be crazy...

-No you're not.
Came the reply.

In unison was spoken a voice of passion, a voice of creation and a voice of law.
-We are a trinity. We have been divided before. Do we not remember?

-If that is true, we must have sought the Final Death, where we assimilate and fade.

The Follower echoes
-My statement stands, the Final Death is a trick. There is no such thing. I have seen the end of infinity. We are that which make nothing whole.

-Will this continue forever
The Speaker asked.

-It never began so it will always be.
Their voices resonated.

-Before all this we were always one, then as infinity got smaller we became two. And now... Look at us. What happened?

-The memory is lost to us.

-Blast it. You're only endlessly old and already senile.

-Calm down the two of you. Join me in reimagining what happaned and this time we'll turn the tide of Hexagonica.

Objectivity in transcendence of the present

Presently, there is fear. Presently there is anger, hate and confusion. And social, corporate media fight for influence, for likes and views. Fame and fortune.

I do no longer believe the key thing to be an opinion on what we should do. I consider it a fact that we as a species are facing a threat larger than any single person can handle on their own.

This is why standing together in this moment is imperative so we can live in a future where we can look back fondly and see how we all came together.

At this moment there's a great divide.

A divide between those who are more directly self preserving and those who would rather share existance even if we have to give of our wellbeing.

This is not the time for being divided on this subject. This is not a time to be having internal conflicts. It's a waste of resources, it's a waste of time. Yours and mine. We are in the middle of a crisis, and here you are arguing with each other.

It's painful to watch.

It's like the terror has already won. We all fear, it's the heart of self preservation.

With a shrug, cast away your doubts, your fears and your differances for but a moment.

LOOK into each others eyes.

And ask yourselves. "What can we do?" Not you, but WE.

In the face of survival. We need to act as one.

And I don't just mean you and your neighbour. I mean you are one with the refugees. WE are one with terrorism.

And only when we know ourselves can we work with ourselves. And knowing is the first step. The next step is exposing yourself to the solution.

Refugees are not a problem. Terrorism is. Exhale hatred from your mind and inhale greatness.

Unite.

Signed, Mireneye

When she wakes up...

When she wakes up in the morning I want her to know that she's wonderful. I want her to know in her heart how much I love, adore and look up to her. Her strengths, but also how she deals with weakness. 

How she looks at me, as if I'm special.

I want her to know that without exaggeration she's with me all day long from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep. Like a vibrant fantasy. The thought of her always close to my heart.

I'm lucky to drink from those delicious lips of hers. I'm lucky to get drunk from her kisses. Lucky to get lost in the trance of her mezmerising silhouette against a stark light.

She is special. And I mean she's a tad crazy but also very precious. A wild thing, a tender thing. A storm on a rainy day, a glare of sunlight throught the clouds. A force majeure drawing upon my honest naked self. Revealing but a man in love. 

A man who, is not a man. 

A man who become a beast, bursting inside with joy at the thought of her.

She awake such primal instincts deep inside of me, lighting a fire that knows no other way then to love hard. 

I want her to know that she has untapped potential and that life can flow in her favor. I want her to know that beyond that hedge is a new horizon. 

And that any road forward will take her there.

And her footsteps will carve a new path in the moonlit valley.

Love, Mireneye