c o n f i d e n c e g a m e [entries|friends|calendar] Nathaniel Augustus Chambers [ website | journey into mystery ] [ userinfo | insanejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | insanejournal calendar ]

☇ the story of nathaniel ☇ [30 Nov 2030|03:50am] ☇Con artists and spies are both professional liars. → Cons do it for the money, and spies do it for the flag

[03 Feb 2011|02:16am] Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things: Marcus Tullius Cicero Art experts worry about antiquities The city of Cairo is currently enraptured in a revolution and while I’ll admit idle fascination with the events occurring in a region which holds particularly vivid memories. I’ll freely admit I hold no particular political bias to how the region stabilizes. If nothing else the images captured in still photography and video clips trigger recollections of my youth long gone. I’d imagine Tomas would be amused by the circumstances which threaten to destabilize the region, where most find a tragedy decades in the making, he would find the region fractured state a point of leverage. It would be like a fine wine or magnificently cooked steak from a five star restaurant, a meal to be enjoyed and savored a single bite at a time. I remember my first visit to the Egyptian Museum, the realization of those who came thousands of years before my birth, slowly forming in my young conscience. The innate curiosity which found us observing artifact as priceless, where those who once owned them might recall them as mere common fixtures in their everyday life. The items were enough to occupy the attention of a young child, and while he was lost in his own imagination, it was perhaps ironic the circumstance he would find himself in next. You perhaps never know any city or place you lived or visited, until you’ve observed it out of your own place of comfort. A neighborhood which seems perfectly safe and peaceful during the day is an entirely different beast when the sun settles beneath the horizon. The warm winds and sweltering heat are a welcome change from the bone chilling temperature and the play of shadows from the corner of your eye. The ambient rumble of voices in the market place as tourists and locals wander, is replaced with a coldness empties and where the sound of footsteps can be as menacing as any weapon. Looking back on my time spent in the city, it isn’t merely through retrospect that I enjoyed myself. There was innate, combination of fear, excitement and apprehension which was almost palpable. One could taste the flavor of their mortality, whether in the cold churn of your stomach or the fierce roar of adrenaline which came with every breath. They were moments when one realized not only the trapping of their mortality but what it meant to be able to survive in a world which showed them no favor. Some might describe it as their own personal war-zone, where the atrocities of their humanity were redefined. They’ll be memories etched in blood and adrenaline, eternal scars which fail to heal quickly and other times not at all. I’d be weary to call them moments to which a life could be defined or mentioned as a road not taken as Frost was known to write. It will surely be a moment in history, one where the lesson to which a revolution began or an uprising was quelled will be bookmarked. It’s the type of interruption in our 24 hour news cycle, the world can’t help but recognize. Though like all monumental moments for some it is merely reminder of different times. Whether the moment is regarded as enormous or minuscule, the people who know the city as their own will recall better memories than a time where political ideologies clashed. As for my own memories the legacy this city offered holds a particular distinction no political skirmish can tarnish. post comment

I am a lie who always speaks the truth. ; Jean Cocteau [07 Jan 2011|03:19am] No one enjoys being played for a fool, granted they’re usually done playing the role before they even realize they’ve been cast. I often find it fascinating the information people choose to reveal too absolute strangers, as if this current form of electronic communication is equal parts cathartic and stamped with an obvious expiration date. I suppose the need to share or perhaps find a connection among others is one of the defining elements of humanity. We find familiarity in our unity, a sense of solidarity in our community and yes, strength in numbers. Despite my own mental resolve, I won’t’ claim never to fall prey to such mistakes I’ve noticed, mostly through idle reading and mild curiosity, the mention of resolutions and promises for the New Year. I’ve honestly never taken part in this social custom if only because goals set upon the expiration of a previous year and birth of a new, our destined to fail. Declarations of being a better person are ultimately hollow gestures. I’ve always chosen goals I can achieve, which isn’t to say just anyone can aspire to my own lofty expectations. Then again I never set goals upon a whim or based on some annual social custom. I hesitate to call this an experience because in truth its closer to an experiment. I haven’t found any great need to share my own personal thoughts for the benefit of ours. The sole explanation I can offer, I cherish my privacy, which in itself is an exercise in discipline. Much like some would run a political campaign or control a government; how you dispense information is a powerful instrument. So with this rather long disclaimer I’ve proposed my own disclosure to mark the beginning of the New Year I loved a girl. A statement which unto itself is vague, but an answer to a question many women eventually ask. The emotional reaction it elicits can be as conceiving as any words whispered to their ear. It engages the creative portions of the mind, filling in the blanks and stoking curiosity, rather than the truth’s malicious reality. It’s quite a simple statement in all truth. Everyone has been in love and those who claim never to know it? Well even the most gifted liars can deceive themselves, especially when their so thoroughly invested. Now the question of who the girl was? It’s important. What about this woman captured my attention among the masses is the better question. I suppose if I knew the answer to this question, finding someone to categorically replace her would be an attainable goal. It would merely be a simple choice, like one would have between a blonde or brunette, a mere accessory depending on your mood. I’ve been told I enjoy the luxury of that just beyond my reach. In layman’s terms, I enjoy what which is ultimately denied to me, if only to prove I can possess it. I’ll admit I enjoy woman, their complexity, beauty and wanton like traits as a whole. I’ll confess this point to my youthful days. The folly of inexperience and wisdom is the perfect companion for any young man with a healthy amount of stamina and ambition. Especially a one determined to conquer any obstacle laid before him. Some call it greed, although I rarely enjoy anything in excess. I have no particular need for any collections whether in number of conquests or failures. Although I’m sure among the seven deadly, someone would ultimately label my lack of morality. I hear arrogant seems tailored to fit me quite well. All this to say, too love a woman is to realize no one can replace her; anything less is a fool’s errand. As a side note I’ll acknowledge I had an occasion to observe representative Hartwell’s admission. Incidentally it’s entertaining to consider a man I thought my opponent, through no benefit or act of his own, could contribute to my own slight examination of relationships. I can’t recall why I considered him a rival. No woman every came between us, nor were barbed words or threats exchanged beneath sweltering tempers. Now I suppose I should clarify. The woman who I loved, I never married. I arrived and left the relationship a whole man. No shattered pieces of my soul, dignity or charming psyche were left asunder beneath our dissolved union. She’s still among the living and if you were to spy her alongside her daughter, I couldn’t claim her daughter as my own. Now when I speak of love, realize it came in the past tense. It was an emotion born from loss to which a bond between two people was forged. I’m sure there are all kinds of colorful and clever anecdotes one could sling beneath acute phrases. I’ve confessed a deficiency to the world which can’t be erased. It’s a vulnerability to which even those who’ve found their skills wanting and weighed should have no trouble striking true. It will be a welcome catharsis. 10 comments|post comment

Trust instinct to the end, even though you can give no reason. [15 Oct 2010|03:23am] Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. -Ralph Waldo Emerson I never played well with others. It might have been a matter of trust or rather my lack of trust in anyone beyond myself. Some might say I’m simply an island unto myself. I’ve heard some say you can never really know someone unless you trust them. I’d surmise to know someone is to understand their flaws and to trust they’ll do what’s in their own best interest. It’s not such a far flung concept; human beings predominately & ultimately strive to survive on a daily basis. We find certain security in the choices we make, people and friends we surround ourselves with. We build families and units of support out of the variety of people we encounter in life. We place our trust and sometimes well being, whether you consider the physical or mental, in the hands of others. I’ll admit with certain disdain I’m not above the trappings most people suffer. I keep my confidence in few and trust in even a smaller percentage. It’s not trusting any one particular person is so far beyond my own personal standards. Simply put the mechanism to which trust is dependent is initially flawed. The human condition has and always will be a foundation designed to erode. 6 comments|post comment

[22 Feb 2010|10:50pm] Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced -- even a proverb is no proverb to you till your life has illustrated it.- John Keats She asked if I’d ever been in love. The only reply I could think of? “ Enough to know it was real and Well enough to avoid it the second time around “ . She thought I was a cynic, someone who’d lost their faith in the fundamental goodness found in everyone. I told her I don’t live in a world of simple black and white, but shades of grey where the decisions we make aren’t simply based on the immediate outcome. I make hard choices, which isn’t to say their right choices but those in my best interest. I’m a creature of survival. I could say I was simply born that way, but I’m a product of my circumstances. I learned to survive out of necessity, practicality and experience. Self examination aside, I don’t have much too really report of any interest. Parker and I have gone our separate ways, although our time together was pleasant. I can honestly say the months spent with her were a breath of fresh hair, yet as beautiful as Regan was she was a bit, naïve. It was as I mentioned refreshing, but only from the perception that I stood as my own person, not made to bend or change for another. My identity and principles remained the same, unlike my marriage which marked what some might call maturity and growth; I simply look at it as compromise. It amusing to look back on those moments in life, where people see only what they care too. I will admit the marriage was brash and yet to dive deeper into the reasons why it came about, why we worked, survived and ultimately parted ways, is simply too complicated. It was no fairytale or every happily ever after, at the least it was a experience. One which offered valuable life lessons and the rest? It was amusing to watch them scurry about like mouse in a maze, unaware but confident in their own knowledge. In truth you have to love something or someone to really understand what sacrifice is? Although I won’t say to understand every person you meet you must walk a mile in their shoes, sometimes it’s just good to have the cliffs notes, as reference. 3 comments|post comment

[07 Mar 2009|12:13pm] how long has it been? years, months, decades? Nothing that dramatic I hope, but time tends to be rather elusive doesn't it? I can't confess not to think about those I once knew. I could surmise it was a different life, another time and place entirely. I could say the person I was then, is so vastly different from the person I am in the present, I can barely remember the former. It would be a lie though. I have matured of course, learned, loved and lived. I know, I'm leaving out , lost, but what did I have to lose? What did I really possess that I wasn't born with? Then again someone might point out that I've lost, love, women, a particular woman, friends, family. I would simply say they weren't mine to begin with. I laid no claim to them before their willingness to embrace me. I'm sure it sounds l like I'm talking around the subject, distancing myself emotionally. You might be right, but then again your not a psychologist are you? I think about Carter sometimes and what nefarious plots she as been up too. Then again nefarious is a bit to much of a compliment, she always seemed to find herself in over her head. Brandy would be easier to track down, but I can't say that she got into any trouble worthy of my attention. Which is actually, surprisingly satisfying. I never enjoyed the role of white knight, I have issues with dependency. Maxine is a name and a person I haven't thought of in a long time, not that she's forgettable, she just had her own way to doing things, to say we clashed was to put it nicely. Reagan, now if your intent on psycho analyzing me, this might be the one hitch or  blemish in my otherwise flawless presentation. Reagan reminds me of a girl I used to know. Obviously that girl isn't with us anymore, and by us I mean the living. I suppose I could expand on what Reagan represents, is she merely a conquest, a challenge? Its entirely too early to decide, not to say that she isn't a conquest or a challenge, they aren't equally detrimental or positive perspectives. I think you can find equally positive and negative attributes with each statement, it only matters on what your looking for. I've lived in New York, Los Angeles, London and plenty of places in between. I wonder about moving back to either place, I think about moving to New York and I'm not quite sure what the city holds for me anymore. California on the other hand,isn't that far removed from New York, the amount of time I've spent in both, seems to lessen their appeal. I do still keep apartments in both cities, but they've lacked any use or purpose in the lack few years. In fact, I prefer the house I stay in now. It has a certain appeal to it that almost can't be put into words, I could say stability? Granted its no tropical isle or isolated cabin in the woods. Places like that attract to much attention, the type of attention that it was built to avoid. 5 comments|post comment

[29 Jan 2008|07:49pm] [ music | Kalifornia - Mos Def ] The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to an idealized past. California. I never actually gave up my apartment on my last visit to the state, but I've never been a fan of Los Angeles buildings. It seems to me Los Angeles is a powder keg ready to blow the ground unsteady and broken beneath us. So I changed residences, opting for a building closer to the ground, a reasonable rent and venue to the surrounding area. Its a twisted little journey sometimes, place and cities you'd rather not return to are the exact place you find yourself? third time's a charm right? Aruba was a great vacation, everyone should visit once in their life, like Rome, Paris and Egypt, words do it no and the New Years celebration, while better within the fifty states, was still memorable. The penthouse suite wasn't of my own design or reservation but more a product of my company during the foreign excursion. I've seemed to come into privileged company, a heiress to a chain of hotels chains. Knowing my past you might suspect some ulterior motive. Suffice to say the potential problem it presented to her relationship, venturing to foreign land with another man. The trip had been purely business before her companionship turned it into the avenue of pleasure. ( a seed of deception ) So its back to business. Gather the lay of the land and find some prospects, business. 23 comments|post comment

Happy New Years, from Aruba! [31 Dec 2007|03:03am] Life is known only by those who have found a way to be comfortable with change and the unknown. Given the nature of life, there may be no security, but only adventure. Aruba. I'm off to warmer pastures. Though the story isn't in the where but the how, and what's a story without a Woman. A woman. The question of where to begin isn't as clean cut as one might think. How I found myself in that particular cafe ( Cafe Du Monde; for those interested ) in the heart of New Orleans isn't a question I'm quick to answer. I don't like coffee in all truth, its neither my choice of beverage or fuel. Though I've found myself, during my time in the Bayou, as slave to the current social trend. It seems that coffee has moved from a simple fad, to a standard of live. I'm half surprised they haven't subscribed some pharmaceutical relief for the effects of coffee in particular. Regardless. This story began with a woman, which is quite the graduation step from a girl. I know, somewhere out their I'm making someone proud, smile or vomit at the mere idea, and the icing on the cake. She's not a blonde, a brunette in truth and quite nimble. Though the woman in question drew my attention not because of the length of her physique in all thing visually simulating, but the fact a pair of stocking hung from her pack. So taking into account her petite size and all manner of amusement born within him I offered a simple inquiry. Was it her Halloween customer ( because it was several weeks before the date), or some kind of fetish gear?. Now I know you might think its a rather forward question, brash in some parts and deserving of a hard slap to the cheek, but if such a thing came to your mind. Then your obviously not familiar with whom your reading about. Now as to whether she blushed profusely after the fact I can't recall in all certainty. Its perhaps found in the fact I find such a reaction upon her complexion with standard regularity that I can't quite remember. Though we did strike up a interesting conversation, where she attempted begin flirting with me. Of course begging the gentleman I am paid for her latte and as our talk continued it turned out she was in need of my services. Though please don't let your minds wander just yet, its far more useful to fill in the blanks later. The strange was she did call me later, but for professional reasons that I can't very well get into without breeching agreed upon client privileges. Though it turns out our stocking totting brunette is a ballerina. While I've visited my fair share of shows, it was good enough reasons to take in a show. The trip to Aruba was a sudden occurrence, though I have to say I won't pass up New Years Eve in such a place without company. So the brunette ballerina decided to join me on my trip. I know I could have easily have taken a close male friend but honestly theirs no fun in that is their? Don't count on a postcard and Happy New Years. ( (private) ) post comment

[06 Nov 2007|05:20pm] It is only in lies, wholeheartedly and bravely told, that human nature attains through words and speech the forbearance, the nobility the romance, the idealism, that it falls so short of in fact and in deeds. It seems I can only take Los Angeles in small doses. Their a certain lifestyle to which I'm accustomed, the glitz and glamor this place offers is fine in short doses. Its the usual remedy for those long winter seasons, the welcoming of summer is infamous with the city of Los Angeles. So what happens when the fall season arrives? Is it back to the Big Apple for once in a long time, years even? Maybe a return to London, New Zealand to take in the sights and visit a few friends? New Orleans. Their is something about this city, beyond the feeling of familiarity and deja vu that grips me as I wander through the quarter. I can make mention of hurricanes and the enduring spirit of this city, but its deeper than that. Their are memories that most like ghosts upon the soul, that haunt and grip and draw forth reminders. I've returned here several times over the years, always in the fall. Though recently I purchased a house, as opposed to the apartment I kept within the New York district. The house is more than familiar as it should be. It has now twice held the Chambers name, and currently it is a luxury to which I can afford a certain amount of publicity.     How long I'll be within the city isn't a question, I'm ready to answer currently, though when business calls I'm sure I'll find my way to another city, continent and realm where needed.   post comment

fractures [08 Oct 2007|12:18am] "Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." ( social slave ) I guess I couldn't resist the survey, though I could have been a rebel, held out and snubbed my nose at it? Its all in good fun, though I'll say certain portions aren't entirely sure. I've honestly lost track of the woman after ten, though not out of modesty. They all tend to blend togather, rightfully so though.  Anyways it was all worth a good laugh, no matter which way you look at it. Oh the difference  year can make. I was in Europe this time last year, and the year before New York.  i can't say I miss either of them and yet they almost seemed like simpler times. Though then again I had more time for myself, less responsibilities. Though in its own strange way I miss those days. Now its work, jet setting across the world for the next financial meeting. I'll really have to watch myself I haven't been in Los Angeles as much as I would have liked. </font> ( Private ) </font> post comment

Strange Crooked Roads [27 Aug 2007|06:22pm]  “If you lose your wealth, you have lost nothing, If you lose your health, you have lost something, But if you lose your character, you have lost everything.”        Apparently people don't have furniture in Los Angeles. I know its a sort of broad assessment's, seeing as my encounter with the person in question, was rather strange. I suppose the true statement is found in the fact, some people simply don't believe in furniture. I've never really found a reason to clutter my homes with unnecessary items. I've always taken a minimalist approach to decorating and seeing as its not particularly my strong suit, it seems rather strange to pass judgment. Hypocritical? I doubt I would go that far, but I felt as if I was in some third world country, where the earth provided necessary comfort for all venues, whether eating or sleeping.          Though I guess the reason to how I came to be in this model show room of a apartment is the true question.  Abbey invited me down to her apartment for what she said was " cookies and milk", though like anything sweet it came with a price. Those who aren't aware of Abbey, he's a lovely little thing, with a personality to die for, literally.  She's promised to kill quite a few people, myself included.  Though don't be intimidated, she's average height (which in literal terms means she's short . Almost Hobbit size.)          Apparently I'm meant to braid her hair, which upon a quick bit of "Googling" and other research, found not quite that hard. So it was somewhere between the implication that I was gay and braiding her hair, that I found out she has no furniture. No one piece, chair, table, couch unless you count the television.                It was like some grand charade, where you visit someone's apartment and find every piece of creature comfort and  livable structure, gone. I half expected, someone to spring from the closet with a camera slung to their shoulder, implying I was on a hidden camera show.  That might have been a reach but it struck me as rather strange. Then I remembered, beyond the particular people I've meant in my life, I was indeed living in California again.          The sun will boil the brain to unknown temperatures, illusions and delusions of grandeur beyond one's wildest dreams are sought here. Though don't let it dissuade you from trying, everyone and anyone is welcome. Just keep your expectations, low. California was once thought to be a treasure trove of gold,  where people set out to make their fortunes. I suppose much hasn't changed since then, though inside of gold, celebrity status is the ever elusive prize.          So while I was able to braid her hair, I suffered through a innate amount of questions, regarding anal sex, the levity of gay men having sex with woman ( which apparently is a big no no) and the nationality of my parents. All wonderful topics I had no problem answering, seeing as my prize was indeed, cookies and milk.  Though I know what your thinking. All this for cookies and milk, why not just visit the store and get your own?  I might just do that next time.  Then again I've never been one to go about things the easy way, and it made for far from a boring evening. All this occurring, while sitting on. The floor. ( private ) post comment

You can always come back to California. [14 Aug 2007|06:34pm] There is no death, only a change of worlds. The change came over a year ago, on a night no more remarkable as any other. It was a restlessness that settled in my bones, a sense of foreboding, something just beneath the surface I couldn't quite recognize. Their has never been a place within the United States or aboard that I have ever called home for more than a year. No place I have actually planted roots, where a simple phone call, or word of mouth would lead someone to my door step.      It was a simple decision. Everything I assume is the way I left it in the apartment, the furniture, clothing, trinkets, pictures all untouched by my hand for over a year. The memories, shed like a snakes  skin. Though hardly a new lease on life, the comfort and break from routine is refreshing, invigorating. It was beneath a simple phone call, a flight booked to the earliest departing flight with seats available. Even coach.   ( Private ) </span> California - I've always enjoyed this city, the weather, the woman and business opportunities are so vast and wide ranging they almost rival New York, in economic value. While I enjoy traveling, its almost refreshing to be return to my native tongue, and while Europe has its fair share of beauties, their is something about the faux drive towards fame, celebrity and debauchery that underlines this self pronounced City of Angels that draws the woman in flocks. They aren't my only reason for returning, a woman now matter what culture or native language has a beauty all their own. Its just a nice change of pace.      The housing situation was easily solved, or rather revisited as my deposit and credit rating secured a apartment within Rhapsody Commons. Its been several years removed since my last residence here, almost four if memory serves me right. Their have been a few renovations, a fire a few years back but barely a face I can remember from my last stay.     Though I still pay my lease on my apartment in New York, I doubt I'll be returning to the city anytime soon. A change of climate is always a good thing, and the familiarity of faces in the Big Apple hardly makes things easier. While I hardly fear such recognition, the college life never suited me on a social or personal live. The trivia lives of students, was like clockwork, save for the few instances of rare entertainment, its a child world of make believe. A illusion of safety I was drawn into without regrade for the path I was settled upon. </font>( Private 1.2 ) ( OOC NOTE )</font> post comment

[28 May 2007|03:22pm] History is a myth that men agree to believe. Napoleon post comment

A Weiss Birthday [13 Feb 2007|02:00pm] So lets start this impromptu and overdue update off with a twist, shall we? Happy Birthday Carter. Yes tomorrow is indeed the day to which the anniversary of our darling blonde's birth is found. A day that will live in infamy beyond the fateful fact that she shares it with the day reserved for lovers, Valentine's Day. Their are several things I could say which would amount to nothing save for flattering appeal. I won't sit here and rattle on about how I came to know Ms Weiss, and the manner of our relationship. Neither will I sit here and claim to call myself her friend, it would be nothing short of a insult. The definition of the word and reality of my actions, would mark it nothing short of a false statement.[ friend ; definition: somebody emotionally close, who you trust and is fond of another. Who you think well of, or are in good terms. An ally , or somebody who is not a enemy). Though those that are her friends, that hold her in high esteem and confidence, can attest to her spirit and gratitude you hold in her friendship. I can only speak of my respect of Carter, the way in which she carries herself day in and out. I find nothing but admiration in the fact our path's have crossed. Now such words can and do seem to be within the realm of flattery and while I will freely admit such, it is done in full sincerity. The idea of a gift is nothing short of obligatory. I hold no rebellious streak within my soul to duck such a tread. Yet I refuse to fall into the classic trapping of a day found in such close, overlapping proximity. The idea of candies stacked in neat little rows, upon rows within a heart shaped box, upon which a hand written letter is stuck upon its exterior, won't be found. Flowers perhaps but not with the notion, as with the letter and candies, of proclaiming eternal love and devotion. They are lovely sentiments but hardly worthy of one's birthday. So the question of a gift has been upon my mind. A gift is the question upon my mind, should it be something to evoke a memory of days better, long and gone? A joke between friends which ignites laughter upon the mouth, or a gag gift found on equally funny terms? It is indeed possiable to over think such a thing, and yes considering the congratulations of her birth are premature. I think they are fitting, lest they are overshadowed by a day known for being " Valentine's Day" Now, Ms. Weiss The Gifts 1. Hand Cuffs. Now these I'm sure won't match the ball gag you kept stashed away in that box in the closet, but hopefully you'll get some use out of them. ( private to Carter -  ) 2. The Book. Yes you have the book, but first editions tend to rather rare. ( private to Carter -  ) I"m sure you'll receive flowers, this time they will be from me. Enjoy your Birthday Carter post comment

the winter season. [20 Dec 2006|11:05am] "The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart."        ( private + family? ) post comment

How to play the game. [22 Nov 2006|12:53am] Date/Time: Nov. 19, 2013 Subject: [ rp. ] Primary characters: Nathaniel Chambers [age 12] & Tomas Santiago Setting: Private Study. Barcelona. Plot: the rules.          The lingering gaze from our young ward found his attention diverted towards the open window. The courtyard below marking the playing ground of children, yelping and talking in obnoxiously loud voices. They seemed to be occupied at some game, which escaped his immediate detection but seemed fun none the less. The movement of the castle upon the chess board, drew his attention to the game before him.          A polished mahogany chess set was perched upon the table between Nathan and Tomas, ornately carved pieces, crafted and carved to denote their position within the game. The cut of grey colored pupils were drawn towards his mentor. Tomas, his move upon the board finished, a movement so well planned and executed he'd barely found himself capable of understanding its ramifications. The ghost of a smile which touched upon his lips found Tomas watching. The smile seemed to grow in infamy when the look, the expression of apprehension found Nathan's forehead. Nate:     I don't want to sacrifice the piece. Tomas: Its a pawn that is its purpose. I don't want to sacrifice it. Its just as valuable as any.  Yes and it holds the lowest rank, its sacrifice enables the initiation of the plan. Their is honor in such a thing. I don't like this game, these rules.  They are meant to challenge you. know your plan of attack, obsess the details. I'm going to LOSE. I want to play with the others outside. They invited me this time. If I don't go. They'll think I don't like them. And why would you care what they think? I want friends, I want them to like me. You need them to. You need and want, not. That is a weakness. Your mean, its not a weakness.  No I'm honest, brutally so. And it is a weakness, when you depend on others, your at their mercy. The edge of the table marked the resting place of Tomas's arms, a slight lean of his body marked his posture shifting now. The urgency and importance of his words marking such a need for physical emotion. The easy movement of his right hand bringing the board between the two into focus again. Tomas: Its your move. The flush of frustration moved across Nathan's face, like the dark cloud upon the horizon. A sudden downpour to mark those storming heavens, where once sun light the sky. It was his move, a sweeping gesture of his right forearm found those pieces upon the chess board swept away. King, Queen and all its minions tumbling upon the floor in disarray. Chaos where their was once peace and serenity.         Nate: I don't want to play! Because your afraid of losing? I'm not afraid. You fear it. Your doomed even before you've begun.  I am not. I just don't' like this game. to many rules, restrictions. As with society and civilized society, their our laws. So teach me about the law, not chess!         The frustration in his voice had risen to its peak, the movement of his body betraying such volatile emotions. I am. Chess is a useful tool. They hold basic principles.... Lets play spades, poker, blackjack. I can play that. You mean you can win, those our parlor tricks Nathan. Because you'll lose. Then how about I make you a bet? Okay , a bet. What are the terms? If you can beat me. Then you'll have cart blanch. You can play with your friends at your leisure. In chess? Your better than me. This is unfair. I just want to play with my friends. And when you can beat me, you will.  Think of it as a incentive for learning. The faster you learn, the more fun you can have. I have no choice do I? You always have a choice. Even when my hand is forced? It is always your choice, by your own accord. Then I accept. Good now first.... First rule of Chess.          The words seemed to escape his mouth with a lack of excitement and enthusiasm. The hard breath which occupied those words, marked a decidedly familiarity. As if they had been repeated and burned into his memory. Nate:   Know your opponent. Tomas: No. Pick up the pieces. post comment

Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit (private journal) [18 Sep 2006|01:17am] Like any story. It begins with a boy & a girl. Simple, innate, plain.boring. I've never considered myself a story teller. Life intrigues me more than fiction ever can. The complexities of the mind, depth of the human spirit, and the horrors of failure. It is what fuels my ambition,. Yet its not to say fiction holds no allure to my mind, it is and when done correctly, can be insightful & telling. It can alter how we see the world. When once shades of gray, you might find vibrate colors. Simple words. Its comical how words alone can change the world dark again. Tomas had assigned me a task, a plan to be completed within the following week. Always plans, in motion or another it seems, always to one goal , end or another. " A man without a plan, is a man without a vision, a future". A common saying of his, Tomas. Carter and him had embarked on their own exploits, dinner and conversation to which no doubt my name was brought . It seemed to be a weekly affair, to which they'd invited but declined on several occasions. I can nearly handle one of them, two would be a nightmare. When she returned later the night, she was in a mood, not necessarily sexual and neither PMS. It was a strange evening, a redux to the yacht it seemed. It struck me as odd but then everyone can't be on top of their game twenty four seven, I myself have been known to slip.        City Hall .   The next morning found us visiting Charlie in his little dungeon, a sub-basement he rents, his base of operations as he calls it. The meet and greet with Carter was interesting. Charlie in particular seemed to be taken to her despite his plea's that she "NOT" touch his computer in any fashion or form.  All in all I think it went well        30 Minutes later.   The plan was in motion. The task as previously alluded laid within the database of City Hall, and more particularly  the esteemed roster of the City Council.              Charlie's role was simple, electronic support and paid handsomely and above market value for his service's . Carter was the decoy, effective despite her wig, and frankly seems easier on the eye. My role was as the primary, a role I enjoy despite the gravity and possibility of failure. It was relatively simple, nothing flashy or riveting.       A little song.              I' ld sliced Charlie into the security grid, through a auxiliary panel located in the eminence bay, beneath the guise of a worker.  Charlie had full access, a " ghost in the machine" as he so gleefully coined the borrowed phrase.        The call was statically and like most wireless technology, the fault lies not in its design but limitations. Then Sharon's voice was clear as day, the ice cold alto; remembered from the yacht. I thought she was being cryptic. Though it seemed my ignorance was to blame. Though not by my own design. Deception is, when used correctly, devastating and in my case distracting. ( the call  )          As easy as the plan comes to gather, it fell apart. Shambles. The torture, or even the kidnapping of Tomas was hardly my concern. As a matter of principal, he was considered dead. To hold him in any other form of thought, hope for a lack of a better term, was to assume despite the evidence. It robs you of your power, it makes you a slave to the whims of others.          Weak. Its what you allow your mind to believe, the possibilities that enter into the process of thought which an wrap you, that dirge up the fears within you, the ones you can't put to rest again.                   Carter understood this part and while I don't doubt her genius, Tomas no doubt revealed such a insight. Though she was right to keep it form me. It was a gambit on Sharon's part, a snare I stepped into blindly. I'll have to commend her.          Carter had been sent with a message, and now her mood,  the previous night, made perfect sense. Though hardly a farce. The deception was the smart move, she knows me to well. Charlie and Carter worked out a alternative , and what soon became a salvaged plan, despite it initial setback. We'd secured our prize, but not without another casualty.             The static upon the line had returned partially through the mission to which we still completed. Charlie had been efficiently taking off the playing field and when we arrived at his place, it was effectively a burnt husk. Monitors, hard drives, all literally destroyed and gutted. The place was riddled with bullets, smelled of smoke. Another player taken off the playing field and to her credit, Sharon proved to be a crafty little player.          This left our choices slim and none, and it forced me to seek out a alternative source of aid. The prize had been secured and yet still Sharon requested to claim it as her own, and only then would we claim knowledge of Tomas's current disposition. ( get carter ) Their is always the matter of Tomas and his survival, Charlie and where he disappeared to. They both seemed lost and yet, rest assured if my memory fails me in my old age and I look back upon this story, reading with no reflection of what occurred. They lived. Charlie for his part was holed up within a hotel by Sharon, a litany of girls at his call. One in particular seemed strangely familiar a replacement no doubt for his " latex companion" a blonde blue eyed thing he'd affectionately named " Charlize". He was living the life of a king and no worse for wear. Tomas? Carter and I , finally found him. Only to be greeted with what seemed to be a dinner between Sharon and himself. Foreplay to what seemed to be a game of, tag. That was the last I saw of Carter, the disgust written in her face, the concern for Tomas's safety only to realize it was a game? It was all a farce another test to which I won and failed. Failure, in live is different form fiction, their is no redemption, no balancing of the scales. You will lose and the consequences are dire.          To say it is better this way, is to admit defeat, to admit the game wasn't worth playing. To admit my failure, and while I played my role, my folly is my own. Yet one can never fail , if one gives up. Though when I looked upon Sharon and Tomas, when Carter departed, I found myself wondering. As if the future flickered upon my eyes, was this my destiny. Oh theirs nothing poetic about my words, or even telling. These words were scarcely see the light of day, if ever.  It not only nourishes me, it destroys me post comment

What dreams my come. [07 Aug 2006|10:45pm] (rp post -private) Hong Kong.... Several weeks ago. Focus Their is a certain humidity in the dojo, labored breaths pulling in air to the lungs, fighting the fatigue of weary muscles.  Its not a matter of seeing the next strike coming, its feeling them and moving with the flow of instinct. . Itto's words are like his movements,Smooth and precise, he's efficient and ways most people could only dream. The unsteady clash of bokken's sound hollow upon each collision. Its a dance, broken from the choreographed practices movements meant to devastate and decapitate. Its his footwork that marks the foundation for his attacks.          Its not dancing Nathan          "Similar principles  "                    I push my advantage once his offensive relents, hammering home blow, after blow meant to sheer flesh form bone. Its like child's play to him, a lazy fly hovering in the air, he merely swats away my advancement, meant to pierce his defense.                     Not bad, keep your balance.                 It all happens in the time it takes a breath to move from my lungs and past my mouth. He strikes hard and fast, breaking the foundation of my stances, and in the moment I'm off balance, he strikes. Theirs a curse that splits my lips, knuckles bloodied and sore. It only takes a few more minutes before I get the feeling back in them, the finger tips tingling.  Itto pauses now, and only now can I notice the control he maintains over his body. I'm a novice in the presence of a master, a human being so completely in control of his bodily functions, he seems almost machine like. Itto takes a knee besides me in one fluid motion, legs folding beneath him as he cradles his bokken.          It'll heal,         "And if it had been a real sword, I' ld be short a few fingers."           Samurai often were.  Their the wages of war.          "Its not exactly comforting Ogami. "          It only takes him a moment, whether its the inflection in my voice or the frustration in the way I move he can sense it. He's attuned to the movements of the body, and like the off key of a piano, or violin string he has a certain affinity to the sound. He's a classical trained musical, a child prodigy who composed his first masterpiece when he was six. He allows me a moment, his fingers streaking back dark black hair, as fingers massage his scalp for a moment. He hesitates and for a man who makes decisions based on instinct, within those moments where life and death hang in the balance its uncommon. Foreign.          "I had a dream. "           How long as it been?           "Years, five, six."          And this bothers you?          Its a feeling that rises within me that I'm not familiar with, uncommon, and unwelcome. Anxiety. It gnaws away at my mind like a jackal upon the day old corpse of a sheep. Dreams don't come often to me in my sleep, its neither a side effect of my chemical make up, or even my unique mind set.  Yet when they come their close to nightmares, omens of things that reflection within my subconscious. Its not the dream, they come they and go.          What happened in the dream?          "I saw her, walking down the street. "          Jacqueline?          He can see the memories rise within my mind upon the mention of her name, my heart doesn't bleed. Its the memories that rise to the surface, hidden within and placed under lock and key. Its written all over my face, and yet you'd never know it. Its a tell, everyone has it, mine is well known. You just have to know where to look. Its not a twitch of my lips, my smile of the way I sway softly back and forth. Its their though, and he can see it. Its like the tension that moves your body, preparing the muscles for action before they uncoil and spring. The rush of blood within your veins before you break out into a run. He can see it all, its more than observation, its a knowledge of the human body, supernatural intuition. He's wrong, this time.     "No, Carter"     And you saw her on the street,. Walking away or towards you?     "Towards. Right past me. I saw her eyes. "      What did you see?     " She didn't recognize me, didn't smile. "     Does she smile?      In her eyes, that's where the real smile is. Not in the way she moves,     and its not even a smile. Its a state of mind.       She walked past you, and didn't recognize you? correct and what disturbs you?      " She never knew me, she couldn't recognize me. " He pauses now as if he's mulling over the information and without effort rises to his feet. The bokken transferred from the cradle of his arms into his hand. Its a slow curl of his fingers against the handle, before he finds comfort in its design.           Do you want her?       " Want, that denotes a need. No: I have her"          He smiles. Its a smile that cuts through to the humor of the situation, its the way I answer the question. Its brutal confidence, unwavering in its design.  Its a imprint, one Tomas has left upon me, unwavering and blatant.     Does she remind you of her?      "No, their different. Carter isn't innocent?"     And Jacqueline was?                   The tip of my toe slips beneath the bokken and with a flip of my ankle upward, I'm ready to resume our practice. Their has always been a natural arrogance in the way I move, a abundance of confidence which has been the driving force in many exploits. I hold the bokken like its a toy, loose within my grasp as I move back towards the ring, where he waits.      "She was."          Its a lie, and I know it without a doubt. Their comes a point in our lives, everyone where the reality and circumstances of the world leave their mark upon us. A human stain, we can't quite rinse away, when we become jaded beyond  resolve.                Believe what you must, what dreams you have are but glimpses.  The reason will come to you. Now, let us see if your skills upon the dance floor, will enhance your skill with the sword. . He's goading me into a attack, presses my buttons like I would my own opponent. Their tricks of the trade, all drawn from various mentors, trainers and in particular, Itto Ogami.  Its his silent resolve, his knowledge of his capabilities beyond a shadow of a doubt. The pain upon my knuckles, torn and bloody ache with a dull appeal, and yet by the time this session is over. We'll both have our share of wounds, scars to mark the level of ferocity. Their a remainder of the trials we go through, the lengths to which we go to become more than we are. Its within the absence of such reminders and phantom pains, like a limb removed that we realize how precious they are.     post comment

The Good Things [19 Jul 2006|12:37am] ( old acquaintances ) Current Events. I've decided to put several things in writing, a update of sorts. So I'll get right into what seems to be in the ears and on the lips of the people I've know. 1. I have indeed joined the legion of married me. This eternal bachelor has given up his rightfully earned crown, for the shackles of matrimony. Theirs no need for a memorial, I will still live on in spirit, if not deed.  Oh and for those of you that aren't aware of my lovely bride, well it shouldn't be news.  Though I'm sure theirs some nasty little betting pool going on how long we'll last, to which I'll place my bets with eager anticipation. I've got a hefty amount of money to put down on a particular date. 2. Apparently by virtue of my roommate, Lorenzo we've gained a squatter new roommate in the apartment. The current quota is currently at capacity of 2-2 Male to female ratio.  Well 3-2 if you count Lorenzo's little crumb snatcher, that child can wail up a storm. Oh yes let me focus, this new comer is Paola, cute little thing adorable in her own right and still, why she's staying in my apartment. I'm not particularly sure. Though she does tend to clean up rather not, and by that I mean the apartment, its like having my own little built in house cleaner, minus the black skirt. 3. I returned from my little venture down south to find my usually occupied apartment literally empty, it was a relief of sorts. Though in a effort to step out and enjoy myself I decided to attend this costume party. I choose the Phantom, from Gaston Leroux's famous play. It was quite fitting in design and character, It held a certain element of mystery and charm one might say. Needless to say I opted to go without the cape, even in the form of a cloak it didn't seem to be a flattering accessory. Truth be told I enjoyed the mask more than anything else, I can understand why its a much employed device by so called hero's. Those who elect to hid behind such masks. 1 a. (yes I know its out of order, deal with it ) I don't think she appreciated my surprise return. Its just a hunch though, seeing as my arrival alongside Carter ( in a unlikely Angel costume ) and Paola (in a sordid little devil costume ) marked her sudden departure. The joys of holy matrimony. 4. I'm not sure whether, it was the particular brand of banter between myself and Paola or merely her under estimation of my skill. The girl while offering fleeting signs of sexuality and confidence, obviously let it go to her head last night. If my memory serves me right she mentioned " I would do as a dance partner" No those are my words, not hers.  Needless to say I had to indulge her ignorance and dispel the notion. I'll give the girl this, the Tango aside, she move kept in step with me quite well. post comment

conviction and affliction. [30 Jun 2006|01:34am] ( the latex companion - converstaition )       I've had this file in front of me for the better part of the last month. Charli works fast, probably why he's one of the best hackers in the nation. Its only a mouse click away, everything I need to know about this girl, from her blood type, cup size to any priors in her record. Its far form spook like in detail, its like skimming the surface. Its all in the research though, knowing your mark, anticipating their next move and predicting their own nature and instincts before they can. Its never a matter of being two steps ahead, its about being one step behind and five steps ahead.  You have to cover ever possible outcome, and then steer them towards the one you can control.       So tell me why I can't even look at her file? I don't know if I'm afraid of glimpsing into the mystery of Carter Weiss. I can tell you, I enjoy the surprise and revelation that comes with getting to know someone. I'm not gonna dribble and drag on about how she's special, different form any other woman I've met. That's a load of bullshit, it just is. She's like every woman I've met, are their things that make her different from the next blonde, brunette or red head?  I don't think I' ld be sitting here writing about it if that wasn't true. Special though, come on.       I admire her, respect her. That's what it really comes down to, their a laundry list of different aspects I could spell out, the differences between our personalities, and the similarities. Though what it call comes down to is, I admire her. She reminds me of myself, three years younger, yet with so much promise.     The thing that scares me though, and yes I get scared. Though I don't sit and quake in my boots like some old granny waiting for death to knock upon their door. I take that emotion and choke it out, quench it beneath the thirst for life that burns inside me. Its fuel to the fire, a blazing inferno which could burn you alive.     The thing that scares me, about Carter Weiss.          She's a challenge, another in a long list of people who stand in my way. She's young and yet even in her ripe age, proves to be a obstacle I can't overcome, yet. I don't back down form challenges, I crush them until they succumb to my will.  So what scares me about Carter Weiss, I see myself in her. She's the one person who plays the game, the same way and reason I do. To Win. We bite, we claw , we sting and we jab at the chinks in the armor of others until they crack, until they expose the pink of their flesh beneath, right before we plunge home our dagger for the kill.       So every time she finds that weakness and attacks it without mercy, every time  she scores a blow, I live in that festering pain and rise above it. I came back swinging, resolved to overcome, those harrowing blows with united resolve and strength. Truth be told I think she's my equal, the once person who challenges me, and won't relent in my destruction and I respect and even admire her for that.       Call it foolish, but I have to know how it all plays out, I need to know who'll win.     Its that damn simple.       post comment

navigation [ viewing | most recent entries ] [ go | earlier ]