The right fucking decisions

Posted by lemiffe in Life, Literature, Politics, Society on Nov 4th, 2011 | 0 comments

The right fucking decisions. That’s what people should learn to make.

If people made the right fucking decisions, the world would not only seem better, it would be better. Less car crashes, less time wasted, less unemployment, less abortions, less suicides, less disasters, less stupidity.

• Action-reaction: you decide to marry the wrong person, you have a child, you divorce, the child grows up. The child either becomes l/g/b/t, kills someone, becomes a criminal, commits suicide, or in a few cases, lives a “normal” life.
• Action-reaction: you are skilled in arts but pursue a career in finance to become an investment banker, your ego outshines your skill, you make bad choices, the market collapses, you lose everything, you kill yourself.
• Action-reaction: you are bullied in school, you feel you are being bullied for life, you feel so much better than the rest inside, you feel powerful, you take a gun, you go to school, you shoot everybody.

It’s not hard to make the right decisions, just think before you act, measure your options, make the best choice.

When it doesn’t work out, you know you tried your best, and it will probably turn out better next time.

If you lose your money, break your mobile, crash your parents car, befriend the wrong person… think, measure, then act… Next time. Tomorrow never comes when tomorrow is all you wait for. Today is the only time, this moment.

Lets stop acting like mindless fools and get our act together, lets make the right fucking decisions, for the sake of humanity.

simcity3000

Posted by lemiffe in Literature, Short Stories on Mar 28th, 2010 | 0 comments

simcity3000

Sonny,

How have you been? I hope you are feeling alright. I know things have been tough for you, but try to hold on. I’ve been remembering things lately, like your mother for example.

I also remember back then the goverment would treat us like dogs. They would tread on us. I knew how it was, not because of my age, but because of the stories I had read. Knowledge was banned, except for the knowledge that came built into us.

I had my chip removed a while back and since then I had ceased to remember most of the pertaining things of history. It cost me great effort to evolve a mind of my own again, and then to start piecing the bits and bobs of my memory back together again.

So, Gregory told me the other day that he was falling apart. It seems we are all falling apart nowadays. I haven’t been able to find a new book to read in years, and Gregory is feeling more depressed every day with the news. He really hates when the chemical injections start to kick in when he’s feeling down. It’s really annoying, you start feeling bad and the chip injects you, you’re feeling too good and it injects you again, you’re feeling like a rebel and it injects you, you’re feeling unusual and it injects you. Gregory was on the verge of killing himself yesterday but the chip altered his mood yet again, stopping him from committing such action. Not that I would care that much anyway, I mean, he is my best friend but he no longer thinks by himself.

It is ridiculously dangerous to even attempt removing the chip as when it is removed it sends out a GPS alert immediately. I had to cut my arm off, throw the whole thing in a bin several kilometres away, and run like mad. Even so, I’ve been hiding for several years now, I’m surely being searched for, you know, my arm had my DNA and stuff. It’s obvious they are looking for me. Not that they need to really look anyway, they’ve just got these readers everywhere.

I once read up on these ‘license plate’ readers they installed back at the start of the previous millennium. That was only the beginning of many changes to come. Nowadays everything seems peaceful, there are no wars, there is no crime, and the world is at peace, at the cost of the freedom of millions of people.

I wish I could go back to the old world. I mean, it’s great not seeing murder, death, suicide and violence on the TV every day. It’s great not fearing getting knifed outside your apartment in London. It’s great not losing loved ones to wars like the great Iran war in 2015, or the 3rd or 4th world war. It’s great not having to worry about the news, about the weather, about car accidents. But then again, that randomness in life was what made it particularly interesting. Now they care for everything for us, I mean, for those who have the chips. The weather is always standard, the population numbers are always the same, the amount of energy input/output is always the same, the distribution of people across planets is equivalent, it’s all bloody perfect in the end.

I wish I could get a drink of whiskey, you know, one of those Glen… Glen… oh god, I forgot the name years ago, never-mind. Maybe a Chivas would do the trick, if there only was any.

So Gregory said he’ll be stopping by today to bring me a little “fresh” milk and cheese. I better be going now son, I hope you are having a great time, don’t try to find me (not that you’d be able to leave you’re place with that intention anyway), and think not of me as a prisoner, but a free man. I hope this letter gets to you and overpowers the will imposed on you by the machine. I hope one day you acquire the power to liberate yourself. Until then, take care.

Regards,

David Paterson

Robert Johnson

Posted by lemiffe in Literature, Random Poetry on Mar 28th, 2010 | 0 comments

A fearless, cold, impenetrably inhumane character, with a warm heart deep inside, and a tortured psyche.

He figured out a way to escaped his ravaged city. This Robert Johnson, a man I speak about.

People thought he was going crazy, you know, walking out from his house. He left 2 children behind, little ones, one of the 2 years old.

How was his wife going to cope with it?

He barely earned enough to pay for food, and his wife couldn’t work. Disease had distraught her back in 91′.

Nonetheless, Robert left for newfoundland, searching for newfoundglory. He must have walked for weeks or years. Poor Robert, dying of pneumonia on christmas eve, on a faraway doorstep, in the middle of nowhere, where time was timeless and space was spaceless.

A New Chance

Posted by lemiffe in Art, Literature, Short Stories on Mar 9th, 2010 | 2 comments

And Johnny was born. Weight: 7 Pounds. Skin: White. Eye Colour: Hazel.

A few hours before, Johnny had been struggling inside. Not struggling in the womb, but struggling for a purchase. Johnny was on the marketplace, looking for a seller. He had 73 good deeds, but also quite a few bad ones.

Deeds, as we know, weigh themselves out. In the end he had 5 leverage deeds… Karma. Usually new bodies cost 9 to 10 karma points, so he wasn’t able to purchase a good one.

Robert Davis was about to be a father. He was waiting aside his wife, Johanna, in Carlisle Hospital after 3 hours of intense labour. Johanna was really tense, shock in her face, red eyed, screaming.

Johnny made a decision. He chose a new body, Albert Davis. Albert was going to die in a car crash at 29, however, was going to live an enjoyable stress-free life until then. He was going to have all 4 limbs, a good looking head, blond hair, blue eyes, and a beautiful mother.

Because of Albert’s short life span, the price was only 5 quid so Johnny went for it. And so Albert was born, unknowledgeable, fearful, memories leaving him in exchange of a new life, a new chance.

Push & Pull

Posted by lemiffe in Literature, Random Poetry on Feb 24th, 2010 | 0 comments

I push and pull and push and pull, I must look like a fool,
I push and pull and push and pull, like when I was at school.
With all the lines I’ve made in life, and all the time I’ve sacrificed;
I push and pull and push and pull a lifetime like a mule.