Stuck.

In one place while the world rages around you. Passing you by as if you didn’t exist. Maybe, you don’t. But that’s crazy! Of course you do! Don’t you?

Treading water for so long, just to stay afloat.

The world passes you by, alternatively in slow motion, than in fast. You reach out to grasp something, anything, but your hand slips right through. Like some sort of movie special effect or a cliché of sand through an hourglass. Your world grows up and decays around you. It is oblivious to you: a breath of air to dissipate amongst the breaths of so many.

And why should you be recognized? What is so special that you should have a voice? Who are you to stand up to the challenge of time?

You can’t.

No, that is wrong.

The truth is: You won’t.

And so you keep treading in time, trying to keep your head above the flow when all the while you are fading.

Fast.

A shadow of what could be. A memory of an untold epic.

A ghost in time.

Behold: A Small Aperture Leading To Hell. Where exactly in Hell, I’m not quite sure as I’d rather pee my britches then go in and find out. Besides, it sort of looks like one of those once in a life time - “I’m sorry, that ticket is NOT good for the return trip” - kinda things.

This particular aperture is located in a fairly industrial outer suburb of Dallas, Texas. I’ve heard rumors that it guarded by a heathen bull god with monstrous horns. Small animals avoid it instinctively. Larger ones that wouldn’t know an aperture from a roof drain don’t.

Snap Dragon by Scott English, Copyright 2007

Can you see the Snap Dragon? Because it can certainly see you!

Be careful about smelling the roses.

This photo was taken of one side of a fairly mundane tunnel at a building close to where I work. Then in Photoshop I cropped it, removed an extraneous aura of light that was separate from the central concentration of light. Then I mirrored the image, put the two pieces together and viola: a spooky light at the end of a tunnel. Now, if I could just remember whether I should walk towards it, or run away…

A string of events that occurred some time ago lead up to me sending an email to someone I deeply care about, and in that email, I used a longer Subject line than I ever have before. Find out how this all came about and the verbosity I employed…

I was amused by one of Crickie’s posts of collected Spartanisms! (a phrase that I coined!), and showed them to my wife. She in particular liked the “We Dine In Hell” one the most:

and said that she’d like it as her desktop wallpaper at work.

Later on that evening, mayhap after some amber libations, I forwarded a copy of the image to her at work. It was a rather plain message, so I decided to jazz it up a little with a nifty little Subject line. However, I think I got a little carried away:

Message Sent: WE DINE IN HELL!!! Pass the butter ol’ chap, if you wouldn’t mind, oh thank you kind sir, very sporting of you, is this real butter? Jolly Good. I do so enjoy the real stuff on occasion while dining on the ninth plane of hell. Nothing else for it really but a couple of swipes of the real thing. Just makes everything a little less cumbersome. And that’s what I’m all about, you see. Less cumbersome.

Of course, her email client truncated the subject and she didn’t realize the little gem I had created until I was moved to point it out to her. Pffft. I worked hard to finally get my Dork Achievement Badge you know. Stupid email clients!