The Mountain: I

her lungs tightened, the careful seeds of respiration pushing air in and out of her body. with the wind she breathed; with the wind swaying into her mouth and splashing her face like a great wave. lowering the bucket to the well, her eyes met the dark bottomed abyss where she could see nothing but the continuation of nightfall never ending. the nothingness that would only further, hindering her from seeing inside. the well, where everyday, she would gather water for her mother; it was her daily chore. that well was the source of her wonder, of her curiosity; for it was the well that made her ponder. the well, surrounded by green and brown grasses, blue flowers, and cherry trees. the birds would come near her, and would pluck the cherries and plant themselves onto the ground, beside the flowers, and would croon their soulful tunes, as if life itself was the song that they were breathing. at the alive ground they would peck with their beaks, enriching themselves into the colorful orange soil. the birds themselves were a thing of color; purple, red, spotted or pure white; a purity of snow, it were the white birds that would fascinate our nameless character as she gathered her daily water for her mother. for white was the color of snow, and the color of the behemoth mountain that rested itself five miles from her home. the mountain, surrounded by a wood of apple trees, and perhaps a pond of clear, crystal like water that one could always find a reflection in. the mountain, snow capped on top, as big as the sun; the mountain that became a source of mystery, a sun and a moon turning night into day, day into night, and dawn to dusk. the source of her questions were from the mountain...did it rain on the other side? was there soil there that nourished the cooing birds, as perhaps they were plucking fruit from the trees? the lonely mountain, nameless, like our character; a source of life, or perhaps an isolated desert with no footprints of no pecking birds to sustain itself. she reveled in mystery at the cloudless mountain with snowcapped peaks...

4

the wind blew so hurridly; a rapidness of air, the stifling smell of burning tar and pollutant gas. but glancing again at the middle of the road, i observed a median, a middle way between two opposing roads; one ascending to my left, and one descending to my right. i make note about the median, the concrete had begun to fade in colour, and i could see cracks and fragments of rocks. but on the dying colour, the textures of green, the brittleness of the browned dirt mixed with the white and grey of the pavement. on this artificial island sat a plastic bag with nothing but the rhythm of the wind pulling it to-and-fro. but me eyes noticed, no matter the eagerness of the wind nor the passing of cars; the bag stayed in its place, as if something was holding it there in a magnetic, and spellbinding trance. and yet, how i imagine the landscapes and the dreams of this stable plastic. how long had it ventured to the concrete median, and where had it been before?



swaing past the dirty streets of a downtown, perhaps in nighttime hours, the gritty voices of the drunks as they loiter about outside of the bars smoking cigarettes and mumbling half understood slurs.



or, frolicking on an empty field; the stagnant grasses, the alive and lush grasses. the song of birds and the trod trod paces of fawns and their mothers searching for any morsel of leaves to feed on. perhaps the bag stayed the night there, and lay still on it s back during a calming rain, and for a moment, was not itself in an artificial atmosphere, but in an atmosphere that had existed before the opening, birthing eyes of man. but where would this wandering nomad of a wind blown bag be without the creation of man's hands? for that night, the bag was in a desolate, peaceful, and lushful world, and it slept quietly, perhaps dreaming of being a natural being, a part of the Earth, or as the seeds of a sunflower waiting to be watered; to grow as the the beautiful colour of yellow that provides sunlight when there is no sun. a sun without a sun.

No Sesso

Male-2697’s Thought Log

I am male-2697, inhabitant of the fifty-third compound in the blue-light district. There are 150 other male numbers who live in the same place. All of the other males are divided amongst the other compounds in the blue-light district. We have a schedule that our government provides us with. It tells us how we shall live our lives. At 6:30 A.M. we awake from slumber and proceed to the cafeteria to receive our daily breakfast, which consists of corn-flakes and a small scrap of wheat bread. At 7:00 we all report to our places of duty. I am the clone inspector. I trace all of the clones that are brought to life each day in the blue-light science compound. I do not know how the science compound brings us to life. All I know is to count the number of new existences each day. All of the other male numbers have different jobs. Some are assigned to do regular manual labor, such as adding more living quarters, “pods,” we like to call them, for the new-born male numbers. We all work until 3:00 P.M. then we report back to the exercise lab and engage in vigorously trained exercise instruction. This lasts about an hour, and then at 4:00 P.M. we eat dinner. Our meal, which consists of a bowl of vegetable soup with a cup of rice, with water to drink, is very bland tasting, even the rice tasting of nothing. Eating this nightly meal at the same time every day is an acquired taste that we have grown accustomed the whole of our calculated existence. AT 5 P.M. we all report to the Gathering Room. There, we; all of us males, are to give our daily praises to our government, more specifically Male Service-001. We are required to praise our government, as it controls everything we do. We are a clean environment and we are always healthy. The slogan that we are to live by is as follows; “A healthy body is a healthy mind.” The whole of our existence is counted on being one of cleanliness. We are to eat exercise, sleep exercise, and wake exercise. We are on a never ending route to preserve and instill the concept of productivity and health to each one of the male clones that are born here.
Our government is our God, the omniscient eyes of everything that we do. All of our numbers are kept in place in the Building of Admissions. Here, each new existence is recorded and given a tracking device that allows Male Service-001 to see everything that we do. We are required to praise our Male Service, because it is a fact, that without him, we would not be living as we are alive now.
Our district encompasses a space of about 30 miles. While in the exercise area, I have heard myths of a place called the red light district. In this red light district are these supposed creatures called “females.” We have asked questions to our government operators and they tell us to reject these myths. “There are no such districts or creatures.” They say. There was one incident however. It is looked at is a myth among the entire compass of the blue light districts. The number that lived in the pod next to me, Male-2573, he took these myths too seriously, and planned an escape of the blue-light district. He wanted to see these “females.” His escape proved weak less, for after getting a mile away from our compound, the movement sensors picked up his frequency and he was soon captured by the Male-Safety Crew and sentenced to 50 years of solitary confinement. That was the first and only incident. Now, all of us ignore those engaging lies of talk of more districts and strange creatures. But I do wonder. Often times I stand in my pod by the mirror, with uniform removed from my body. I grope and feel my chest. The one thing that puzzles me and the one part of my body I am never allowed to touch; my upper body is perfectly free. It is free to be touched and exposed. But my lower body is plastered with these technological shorts that are placed on all Male-Clones at birth. They can never be removed. And such a small accident as touching the slightest part, is picked up by sensors, and you are called upon to see the Male-Number Psychiatrist-002.
I have been sent here more than once. These myths, though to be ignored, I cannot get out of my head. How dearly I secretly wish there were creatures that were opposite from us, who have opposite bodies and opposite voices. My psychiatrist has listened to me tell him these thoughts and he says that I must reject these myths. “There are no such things as opposites to males. Our duty is to the government. And we must preserve and keep our bodies healthy.” I cannot live with this feeling of loneliness inside of me. That while we are the most perfect and healthiest of creatures, that there could be someone or another world outside of where I am now, that is unlike me. I do wish that I could be a different being, for here where I am, it is routine; the same cycle everyday. We have no hope and we are lost in the fabrications of our government. I am writing this only knowing that someday soon, I will be obliterated. But if I am obliterated, I will be considered “irrational.” I have no understanding for the words “irrational” and “rational,” for I am only a number, but I do see myself as someone that wishes to live in something more than the reality I am in now. I wish to embrace or to find the idea of an opposite.






Female 2983’s Thought Log
I am Female 2983, I live in the one-hundred and first compound of the Red Light District. I have a roommate, her identity being Female 2980. All of the female numbers are assigned roommates. Inhabiting the one-hundred and first compound are 300 other female numbers. Our day is as follows. At 6 A.M. we arise from our sleep and proceed to the Eating Quarters. There, we eat our breakfast, milk and a bowl of strawberries. At 6:30 we report to our Health Inspector. For eight hours, we are given physical engagers which engage and stimulate our bodies to peaceful bliss. We are taught to use our bodies, as they provide us with pleasure and physical enjoyment. We do this everyday for eight hours. The least I have to say is that by the end of the day, we are tired. At 2:30 we report to the Eating Quarters to eat our lunch. Our lunch consists of a plate of vegetables and a huge slice of warm bread. After lunch, we go back to our living quarters. There, again, all of the Female Numbers, with their roommates, unleash the physical engagers. We use these engagers on each other. We play with our bodies and we feel pleasure. We become very aroused with each other. After an hour of doing this we go to sleep. It is encouraged that we use our bodies, and that we love the bodies of our roommates. We are created as clones to be beautiful and to act beautiful with each other. Our bodies have breasts and vaginas, which are very easy to excite and to stimulate. I only sleep at night knowing that my partner’s bosom has been at the highest point of feeling, and that she is left feeling very moistened all over her body. It is this exact feeling of being “moistened,” that excites me so. It is unlike any other feeling, in that it produces loud cries from my mouth and ripe fragrances and nectarines from the lower half of my body. When I open my mouth in the engagement process, I sing praises to my roommate, as she is exciting me, and making me feel so very female. I do the same to my roommate, for nothing is as wonderful as taking part in the “partner engagement process.”
Our government, more precise, Female Enjoyment-001, provides that we follow the schedule of pleasure each day, first with ourselves for eight hours, then with our roommates for an hour. Every other day at 5:00 P.M. we report to the Informative Room. There, Female government officials tell us of other districts, one being the blue-light district. There, we are told are opposite creatures that identify themselves as “males.”
Our officials tell us of the journey we will make to the blue-light district to find these “males” and engage them with our physical engagers. These briefings all make us cheerful, that one day we will meet our opposite creatures and give them pleasures, rather than giving it to ourselves.
We, all of us Females, crave to have our opposites. For when we meet them, our arousal will increase dramatically and we will be very happy. Our plan of this journey will be on the first briefing day of next year, which will be 3039. We do not know where the blue-light district is located, but we will soon find it, thanks to our Female Scout Numbers who leave the Red Light Districts each day, in search of the blue. If all goes according as scheduled, we will set out and find our perfect opposites by the start of next year.
I have no understanding of what an opposite of us could look like. For we have the most beautiful bodies, for our government tells us so. During the briefings, we are told by Female-Enjoyment that female numbers have the capacity to bring life. This is true I suppose, for we are clones, and would like to make our own life. The main purpose of the briefings is to explain to us that our bodies our useful for giving and growing new life, that it is key for us to have an understanding of our own bodies first, and then to be in preparation for when we are met in physical trances with the opposites of us. I can recount to you each day of the excitement and passion I feel when I am pleasuring the vagina and breasts of my body to the thought of I, a female number some day producing life with our opposites. It gives me a feeling of transcendence and an image that a beautiful and new world could be created out of this.









Male-2697’s Thought Log
Today, more exact, February 23, 3038, I reported to the psychiatrist. I had tried to touch that again. That forbidden place, where I know something exists, yet I can never reach. The red light district has become an obsession to me. No matter how many times I am told by our leaders that there is no such place, I must find the opposite of myself. I have told the psychiatrist that I want to leave the Blue-Light District. “You must never leave.” He says. I ask him and he provides an answer; “You will not survive alone, no one can. Without our government Male Service-001, no one can live. Your duty is to everyone. For you cannot leave, you would only serve to betray.
As I write this, my mind is devoid of anything that the psychologist told me. I have heard his words, I have heard everyone’s words, far too many times. I believe that there are opposites, “females” if you will. Males cannot be the only ones. I want to escape. I fear I will, at precisely an hour after our bed time, tomorrow, February 24, 3038. Being a male number, I feel incomplete. I feel like there is something more that is just waiting for me, right around the corner.







Female 2983’s Thought Log
During our eight hours of peaceful bliss, I again imagined myself with those “males.” I tried to imagine them and what they might look like. They are said to be our opposites, therefore, I visualized them as such. I used the physical engagers with the thought of them in mind. I had felt more stimulated and engaged then I had ever felt, putting my imagination at play. When I had my time with my roommate, Female 2980, I told her of the experiment I had tampered with earlier. She seemed very aroused when I told her this, and I thought she might want to engage me with one of the physical engagers.

“No, I like the idea of your experiment. Tonight why don’t we pleasure ourselves, each one at a time. We will watch each other, as we both put our imaginations with our opposites.”
It was a magic night……..









Male-2980’s Thought Log
I haven’t much time to write this, I am escaping in approximately 29 minutes and 36 seconds. All I can say is that I am writing this thought log for someone. In the future, or maybe to a past that has been disintegrated. I hope someone will find this. I am placing it in a compartment next to our technological shorts. As soon as I am free of the blue-light compound, I will use all of the force I can to break these shorts and destroy all sensors. I will then bury these shorts in the ground, and hopefully, a thousand years from now, when there are golden creatures, my artifacts will be found. I hope never again to see the blue-light district. I hope to see our opposites. I may die, for I am risking my life, for something that is said to be false. But, I am lost. I am alone. And to hell with Male-Service 001, I will run to the “red light” district without protection on my body. I will fondle all over myself. I will be free. Even if I am killed on my escape, I will die knowing that there soon will be more numbers who will have my impulse buried deep in their heads. The impulse that………
There is something more………







Female 2980’s Thought Log
I have not written for the past month. All of my days have been filled with passionate, enchanting pleasuring. My imagination is running wild. I have exhilarated myself. Using our imaginations, our attractions are with those “males,” if they exist. I have not engaged the physical engagers on my roommate in a long while. We will just watch each other, our imaginations on foot like wild horses. Our bodies seem to be on fire. Not a painful fire, but a pleasing one. A fire whose flames will never run out. A fire that cannot be extinguished. Our want of these creatures from the “blue-light” district runs all over our bodies.
Their imagined bodies are engraved in us. We have a hunger. An insatiable hunger that will always starve us. Our hunger will be satisfied next year. When we find our “males” and use our bodies for each other to create the ultimate pleasure seeking experience.
We will find our opposites.
Our bodies will become one.

3

pulsating veins, expansion of body, coarseness of hands, sweated palms and heightening hairs on my arms and feet. my fingers extend, i point with my index finger to the horizon, i tread on familiar and unfamiliar paths with each awkward and fervent step that i take. while the skies at this night may be cloudy, i opened my eyes to the visions, to the images of gulls that flapped their wings by the river, they flew in a group together, as if migrating south for the winter. yet they were flying towards something familiar, something that they had seen before. and i became a gull, quickly moving my mouth to the tongue of birdsong. the clouds parted, and in the river, colours of green and murkiness, appeared clear, precise spots of water; as if opening to an abyss where the continuation could go forever. i took each step, each frightening step step, as if i was indeed a gull that night, but i was flapping my wings towards unfamiliar expansion of sky, i would like myself to fly at the pitch black of night, for my nostrils will be able to absorb the clarity and pureness of open atmosphere. i will have no stars and the night will be my guide, and i hope for it to rain onto me, as if my body being in complete transcendence with the environment that surrounds me. i will be a lost gull, a lost bird, looking for his place to go, looking for his sun. but i would wish to arrive at dusk time, so that i can open my eyes once again to the slowly descending sunrise as it makes way for the moon to appear and glow over every stretch of land, every imprint of humanity, and every fabric of industrialization...

or i flash another image where i am completely naked in a jungle and everything is still, save for the quiet sounds of frogs or insects. but i am there in a jungle, surrounded by green tinged leaves and the highest trees that extend so far, they could get lost in the heavens. i would like to follow a natural path, a dirt path, and i would like to find a clearing with a great waterfall, water falling so quickly, breathing so freely, an oasis of purity. approaching this waterfall, i would step inside to the falling water cloud and i would let my body soak every inch of my being, the coldness of wet would be inside me, and it would chill myself down to the core, to the heart of me. i would hear the water droplets grace my ears and i would be in the natural symphony of stream and flow, i would feel myself as if being on some road where i have a plan, or an idea of where i am going and who is going there with me. i walked along the river front this night, and for a brief minute, i put my mind into the eyes of the gulls, and the destiny to find my sun, or, perhaps my open clearing ripe with vegetation, and ininhabitated with clear, and soothing water.

2

when i raise my hands, the graceful movement of my pale and chapped fingers, it's as if i am reaching for something, like my muted palms can have something to grasp for, another being, or an opposite existence, but i know not what it is, that i am so glady, so triumphantly reaching for, a perfect sunset, a dead sunset, a wide open moon, no closed pupils....
that shines throughout the whole of the atmosphere, every ocean, whether full of moss, or seaweed, and the sandiest of beaches, the monument carving rocks and the cracks of the pavement on rainy city streets across the continents, it's as if my finger is communicating me to reach for something, perhaps it's an extension of my soul, or an outer image of my mind, like an out of body experience, communicating to myself, to tell me, to let me know, that i am reaching for something, something that i'm still waiting to grasp, i wrote it all with my chapped hands....

Entry: Open Field

my car driving past, the hum of the motor, and the rotation of spinning wheels. the air flowing inside, both windows opened, pass the field, growing cornstalks, the sky half vieled in clouds, half expansive, in dark, storm setting colours. clouds mixing with the clearness of non-existant churning, that tells us, soon the rains must come, must water the Earth. virgined cornstalks surrounded by trees, a silent whisper of wind, no birds moving, not flying, no wings spreading. a stop, a rest. further moving. i approached the landscapes of mini-city, but how i begin to notice, the discovery of my living place; of my breathing. and the space in which i live, or inhabit, it is the heart; i feel its lungs respirate, as i felt or still feel somewhat small. but how my mini-cityscape further enlarges my opinion of what i am... i was lost between the calm serenity of the open field, and so quickly, not even several minutes later, how i became lost in the dizzying array of cars that sped by me, and the large amounts of businesses i had never fully discovered until then. and how the cars that sped by me, created an artificial wind, and how they sped by me. i was in the middle of the lane, feelings of all continents converging. and all the time, the mechanical beings were breathing by me. it was a kind of refreshment, where my eyes were frozen; they could not move, and the sounds of the accompaniment of the music i was hearing put me in a state of transcendence. i was experiencing the median, the heart of where i was living, and i felt as small; a parcel of the entire picture. it was a lonely happiness, being frozen there in the middle of suburbia. if a god was alive, he was inside of me that very moment, for where i had lived, was living, am living, and will live, i suppose i will further discover myself again when i age, and i again embark over all the empty fields and landscapes i dream and plan to tread upon. perhaps finding out that if god didn't exist, i suppose i would not do anything, i would go about the normalcy. but i will answer the question of what is god, but something that spins around in my soul and makes itself known to me with mental states of transcendence....
it was the half hour of field, of continuous road, of mini suburbia that i will always strive for; when the god of my soul will arise to feel in bliss with the environment that surrounds him and the state of absorption of feeling the winds of the world on him; and the breath of the planet, at times, a reek of shit, at other times, a smell of crystal clear rain, or of sparkling sun, of dried desert, and of flavoured grass, never dull, always enlightening...
today i had embraced myself, and i let the environment embrace me. this is my discovery, i will not let go with a single movement. my hands are intact around the globe of my fears, hopes, and frustrations. the loss of the world is mine, the gain is mine, and i now am hopeful, and in tune. my gaze has been transfixed. i am in equilibrium, thanks to a silent field, with more of a song than heard by any human or animal ear...the field that had sparked equilibrium.

1

a desk of solitude. where i sit obliquely and rant chatter of boredom. i want not to remain in quiet, remain in stillness. i want to open my mouth, feeling the slober drip from my lips, and my sweat pouring out its seams. poring out of its seams. i want my eyelids to open widely and my pupils to spin in circles. for once, i would like to have no regard for time, and pay no attention to what i am doing, and to let accomplishments and surprises find myself. i suppose i would like to stand alone in a darkened corner of the street, and reach my hands upwards, past my head, and with the invisible sketched lines of my paled hands, i would like to trace the outline of the buildings. and i would like it, moreso, i would enjoy it to be very gloomy outside, as on a day that it has just rained, and the only light i would like to see would be the streetlight, that would encapsulate the contours of my body and would glow onto me. i would be there on a darkened street corner, but the entire whole of me would light up, and i suppose someone i would not know would gaze down at me from atop a window, unexepectedly, and perhaps my illuminated body would be like gazing into another window. a window into my being...
my body being lit up for someone. i accept this as a motive for understanding or discerning reality from non-reality. i can have these visions that speak profoundly to me and command me to record, as to gather a sense of hope or optimism as to what i really am. i am only writing for that unexpected illumination of my interior self, one that outweighs, much heavier, than the exterior of I...

Freedom; Two Visions

"Your freedom begins where the other ends buddy" The word freedom brings with it many discussions and certainly is loaded with meanings - ambiguous, varied on ... What is your definition of freedom? Perhaps you mean freedom to have time to leave again. Or would only be free to believe what you want without being discriminated for it. Multitude of concepts - and all are packed by the same unique feeling: Freedom. Do you want to be free? I want to be free the world of men who oppress the next. I want freedom to make all the choices that are relevant to me. Self-manage and only then win at the end.
if it's free, than it is available to me.
free for me to reach out my hands, pick it up, and embrace it.
the textures will rub against my chewed nails, and i may stick my nose to it, and refresh in the odor of it.
i know not what i am refferring too, but freedom allows me to do it, to do as i please.
how often do you hear that you are living in a free society?
if it's so, than i must have the freedom to walk in the nude, ashamed not of my body.
only ashamed that i am a person, that seems to live in an animal house.
if i must be free, then i must be able to walk with my lover hand in hand, under a night sky,
perhaps the moon is out, perhaps it is full, the twinkling yellow, for i can see the outline of its craters
as i walk in a free world with the one i call my dear.
if i am free, it will allow me to grab my lover by the hand, it will allow me to be in a passionate, intimate setting with her.
it is the freedom that will allow me to lay under stars with her, of course she had the freedom to tell me of our moment when we
would lie under stars together, and count them one by one. the freedom that will allow us to contemplate that the world is a big sphere,
in so doing, making us feel small, somewhat insignificant. but how we refuse to see the scope of the world, and how we refuse to let it
alter our lives. freedom gave me the intimacy to look into my lovers eyes and to contemplate how many stars there were in those pupils.
the eyes of her were so dark, i could see a night sky in them, with a full moon, and also, the sphere of the world.
it was freedom that led me to kiss her and to tell her that i was lost in a plastic world,
one that was not free, one that makes people feel alienation and boredom.
a plastic and depressed world.
the world of freedom in which we so speak of could never be fully available to us, for we are as animals in a facility of cages.
but how we revel in the idea of freedom.
and how i revel in the idea of counting stars under a free sky with my lover, torso to torso, heads pointed upwards, and palms locked
in unified sweat...

(cooperation of Ryan Hill and Lais Lima-http://produzavocemesmo.blogspot.com/)

love this girl