tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82025863105632657922011-12-06T11:20:28.608-05:00Unreadable Understandings of a Mad ManJ. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.comBlogger351100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-73286416834249040152010-06-19T06:29:00.001-04:002010-06-19T06:30:01.228-04:00

It's been a long time. I've not had too many reasons to return, hence my absence. It's been neutral and monotonous, these past few months. Nothing to speak of cause nothing has happened. Needless to say that something has happened, thus my return. Nothing tragic, nothing grand. Nothing lost, nothing gained. Yet. I feel uneasy writing this, simply due to the fact that I know I'm blowing it wildly

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-40440712979986235462010-04-20T06:00:00.000-04:002010-04-20T06:00:07.744-04:00

"I'll take your love, I'll take your hate, I'll take your desire. I'll take your heart, I'll take your pain. I'll take the world when it turns on you. I'll set it on fire. I'll bring you to life..." "You'd be willing to destroy the world for love, yes? No? Hmm, that's a very surprising answer, to be honest.", the man before me paused to pour some tea into a small, very antique looking cup, which

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-19064919129868793032010-02-28T13:04:00.001-05:002010-04-20T06:01:22.542-04:00

It's cold, very cold. I am a dejected man. I'll admit that, but why does it have to be so fucking cold? My tears have turned to ice, and are burning my face, but I have no time to wipe them away. I must continue running. My quest for escape from my own person hell has not yet reached it's end. I must continue running till I can no longer run. My drive is someone beautiful; someone I love very

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-86561370821020783122010-02-24T06:20:00.000-05:002010-02-24T06:20:50.252-05:00

Something has been plaguing me lately. Something far darker than what I've dealt with prior to this time. No, that's a lie. I've faced this monster, and struck it dead. Seeing it here again raises some questions as to my thoroughness. This is, of course, is bad for my image. All of it is. It's very existence nags at my being, tearing away pieces of my sol, strand by bloody strand. I've stretched

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-6395516292984471652010-02-06T05:17:00.005-05:002010-02-06T05:23:34.545-05:00

I want to send a message. I want to speak without words. To share openly the ideas That have amassed within. I want open thought. I want ideas in tones. Expression without consequence. Love without Fear. I want my feelings to flourish. I want color, joy, happiness. Do you see the patterns? What I Hear Is Harmony What I Feel Is Ecstasy This Is The Closest Thing On Earth To A Miracle Let Music

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-45776932451152893492010-01-27T00:37:00.000-05:002010-01-27T00:37:49.982-05:00

Deception occurs with our very perception. This deception begins with the eyes themselves. The eyes cannot see all spectrum of light. In turn, we cannot perceive the world to it's fullest. When the brain goes to process the raw data, it often fills in the blanks, or processes it relative to other images. When the mind interprets this product, it can only interpret based on images already 

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-16030237297111932632010-01-22T00:09:00.000-05:002010-01-22T00:09:54.914-05:00

How do I explain who I am in five minutes. It's a bit unfair to ask us to sum all of our life experiences, opinions, and ideas into a 300 second presentation. It's cruel, and unusual. If I even wanted to prented to want to do this, I'd have no idea where to begin. I guess I could start by saying that I spent three hours in a pub drinking pints with a mate, and talking about music. I tend to do

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-18937414357762285752010-01-05T23:19:00.000-05:002010-01-05T23:19:51.356-05:00

It's been awhile. I've taken a little break, sure, but I'm still here. I've just been busy, with life, and all. Trust me, it's nice to have something to do, after you feel like you've been floating through life for the past year or so. Gives a sense of meaning. Progress... Quite a lot has happened since my last letter. I've got direction now, but I'm not any less of myself, just more directed,

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-58046258765920456742009-12-17T05:06:00.001-05:002009-12-22T03:35:49.409-05:00

The cold is biting. Fridged air blows across my face, making me feel all the more hollow, as if it's blowing through me. The moon hides behind the thick dark clouds, enveloping the white, snow laden street before me in a shroud of black. I bow my head and stop my pace. I close my eyes. No difference. Closing my eyes, and opening again, it's the same: impenetrable darkness. It's as if the world

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-64284339742437107642009-12-10T00:39:00.000-05:002009-12-10T00:39:16.420-05:00

It's not a journey you take fool-heartedly. It's one that takes appropriate courage, and lunacy. A common cause of soul, and flesh; this thing we not of until we find it, sends us on this journey. A merciless voyage, wrought with peril at every turn. Not of mortal danger, but of something much worse: heartache. A pain so deep that it can not be mended by any medicines, and leaves a scar so deep

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-25482861344234957252009-12-09T03:31:00.000-05:002009-12-09T03:31:15.390-05:00

It happened something like this... We met. Not consequential, not without meaning. Lost. Eyes, fires, and road signs. Still looking. Frantically searching for that one true. You. Standing there, 1,000 yard stare. Dare. Yes, found, happy, safe. I wish I could say that was it. Stream of consciousness poem? I'm not sure where to go from here, so I'll keep walking, off into the squandered light of

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-89510730488865878282009-11-22T14:21:00.000-05:002009-11-22T14:21:59.279-05:00

It's Sunday, the day of many's religious revivals before starting their week of sinful activities over again. I know not why I'm writing this. I should be celebrating, happy for my good fortune, but I know not why I have these feelings of regret. Not for my actions, but something deeper, as if I'm changing one other's winds of fortune. Why must it be this way? Can we not be passive observers, or

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-70548363455266271512009-11-11T03:50:00.000-05:002009-11-11T03:50:41.590-05:00

It's not so much love, as complete and total infatuation. It's rather sad really. Sad in the sense that it's an almost inescapable infatuation. Inescapable in the sense that there's no point to. It's infested my life for the better part of 16 years. Why stop now, it has to end soon, right? Don't I wish. Granted I don't think I'm in one of those searing pains that occur when the world just seems

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-10168695468728633012009-11-07T05:19:00.000-05:002009-11-11T03:22:53.155-05:00

What am I suppose to do? Every time I do this to myself, it becomes harder and harder to not just go insane. I don't know why. Masochist is a word that I've heard thrown around to describe me. I guess it would fit. Why do I put up with all the shit when I feel like I'm being taken advantage of? Is it harder to brunt the burden than to just walk away. Would walking away really solve any of the

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-57199397712234092122009-11-01T23:45:00.002-05:002009-11-09T00:39:30.829-05:00

It's not to be expected. In truth, what isn't expected is what often happens. It's a crazy thing. The world just one day falls apart. What comes next is anyone's guess. Regardless of what it is, they'd be right. As it just so happens, the world ends, not in disaster, but joy. It is a truly wonderful occasion by which everyone's dreams come true. Literally, each persons ideal world comes to life.

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-67739390421158109632009-10-31T03:36:00.001-04:002009-11-27T07:39:11.333-05:00

...and I am the Moon, and we are in this together. It's been a bit since I last wrote to you. Sorry about that. Normally, I would lie and say that I was busy. In this case, I really was busy, no lie. Promise. Slowly but surely I've been getting my life together. Things are looking up, and while I may not be making the best decisions at the moment, I am doing my best a making a better future for

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-77533167952501433242009-10-18T04:27:00.000-04:002009-10-18T04:27:13.750-04:00

I spent a decent amount of my time learning several new skills. Skills I thought I needed to tell a story. Unfortunately, I don't think I'm using the right medium for it. Much like in the modding community, you choose an engine based on what you want to accomplish. You don't choose an engine without the ability to have drivable vehicles if you are planing on making a racing game. It just doesn't

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-56953826276789809202009-10-12T02:17:00.002-04:002009-10-12T02:17:21.868-04:00

I'm reaching for something... I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen in the next few years. I've been gone far too long, and been a bit too lazy as of recent. It's not even that I'm not constantly inspired, but I'm not sure how to deal with the inspiration. It's almost too abundant (okay, that's a lie, you can never have too much inspiration). I am however feeling a bit over loaded as

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-12105942095410883822009-10-12T00:00:00.002-04:002009-11-22T14:15:48.866-05:00

"I live in the shadow of a lie, one I try dearly to keep to myself, and fail to. 'Amor' echoes from the mere and falls deaf upon a lone vestige. A spire to your beauty, tall and partially overcome by the vines of your past. You reign supreme. A lone dove in that cage which keeps you from me and protects from the horrors of this world. Awaken in this sea of sorrow and blood, I thrash in my

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-20053275018510192482009-09-29T01:42:00.000-04:002009-09-29T01:43:05.434-04:00

"You were beautiful, but you are ugly. I didn't know it then, and I'm still not entirely sure now. You were always so good at covering that up. The bit of blood in every drop of bliss that flowed from your mouth. They say that ignorance is bliss. Not so, when you are filled with the doubt that comes with it. You were a vicious vixen, brooding and beautiful. Truly, a poisonous flower; too deadly

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-29170165250385977952009-09-27T03:38:00.000-04:002009-09-27T04:39:32.316-04:00

I've made a few changes to the map since last writing about it. I've found a way to expand it beyond a mere 5 to 10 minutes to a good 15 to 20, I believe, but I won't be sure till I get it into a playable state. Unfortunately, it's still a ways off from that, but I've been making some, albeit small, progress. My biggest issue with it so far, and why my mapping progress has taken a nose dive is

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-82856659707954072782009-09-22T15:24:00.000-04:002009-09-22T16:06:56.471-04:00

OneWebDay is a day when users of the World Wide Web are encouraged to show how the Internet affects their lives. It is held on September 22. The purpose of the event is to globally celebrate online life. The goal of celebrating OneWebDay each year is to create and make visible a global constituency that cares about the future of the Internet.- Courtesy of WikipediaI would say, that the web has

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-83370579846080034362009-09-21T03:14:00.000-04:002009-09-24T05:53:45.434-04:00

What we call progress is the exchange of one nuisance for another nuisance. - Havelock EllisI can say that I finally, fully understand this quote. The shear amout of frustration that goes into making a seemingly simple map is mind blowing, as just making simple things like bathrooms, vents, windows that break when shot, exploding doors, areas of construction, etc. is a huge time sink. I spent the

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-19974431546178300202009-09-18T21:00:00.000-04:002009-09-18T20:05:00.773-04:00

1. Formal lack of pattern or organization“entropy increases as matter and energy in the universe degrade to an ultimate state of inert uniformity”2. A measure of the disorder or randomness in a closed system.3. A measure of the loss of information in a transmitted message.4. The tendency for all matter and energy in the universe to evolve toward a state of inert uniformity.5. Inevitable and

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-78197923883255021682009-09-16T11:47:00.000-04:002009-09-16T12:05:13.656-04:00

What am I to do? This wonderful feeling of being in mental and creative restraint is, quite plainly, driving me mad. Part of it isn't even the feeling of restraint, but rather the feeling of inadequacy towards my works. It's proving hard to get past. The feeling that everything you've done, and everything you'll do won't matter. It's like you're being dragged down, thrashing, but try as you might

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-20515231288553281862009-09-13T13:11:00.000-04:002009-09-13T13:25:28.246-04:00

I'm surrounded by narration on all sides. Books, movies, games, fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, and reality. It's becoming harder and harder to write anything with every passing minute, as with each minute, a new story is being told somewhere. How can I write anything worth reading, hearing, seeing, or playing with the mass saturation of material that exists out there. Some of that material is

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-23754528402546926372009-09-12T18:45:00.000-04:002009-09-12T19:25:26.750-04:00

I've finally settled on a final mod project idea. I just kind of came to me, in a way. It's to involve a bright, clean art style, reminiscent of Mirror's Edge, but it will contrast highly with some of the "underground" areas which are to be far more grittier. I plan on creating an over arching story involving one main character, code named "able" and his handler "fish". I plan on releasing it in

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-45310151106858771062009-09-10T13:37:00.000-04:002009-09-16T12:05:59.562-04:00

Where do I begin. My issues are too numerous to mention. How do I avoid the inevitable breakdown of information.First off, I'm having dreams, dreams which somehow seem more real than my waking moments. I've mentioned these before, but have yet to speak much about them. They feel so real because I have emotions, which I express with precision and intensity that I restrain in real life. I actively

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-52448262579013021262009-09-10T02:09:00.000-04:002009-09-10T03:41:36.188-04:00

Not quite as productive as I would have hoped. Caffeine is once again the culprit. Couldn't keep awake long enough to act, not to mention that I couldn't form coherent sentences, which was my biggest wall. Do one thing that frightens you everyday is so much easier to say when you're not at that hurdle yet. Standing on the edge is the hardest part. When you finally jump, all you have to do is let

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-22501812001115033672009-09-09T05:59:00.000-04:002009-09-09T06:31:10.379-04:00

Today is it...Know how people always say that, 'there is no time like the present', that 'now is the time'. 'Forever is composed of nows'. Well, for once, I'm making use of those proverbs. Today, I'm going to do something that truly scares me. No, two things that scare me. For it's only in the face of our true fears that we can say that we are actually living. Spiders, heights, dieing. These are

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-60867816017634323282009-09-08T22:35:00.000-04:002009-09-09T05:59:13.168-04:00

Contained here within is transcribed the thoughts, hopes, and dreams of me and a friend.I don't write poetry. Is Freefrom poetry? I don't write free form, but I do write stream of consciousness. Graduation is crap. Pomp & Circumstance. What is to stop us from doing the amazing. All of our friends have strange tastes in music. No stars out tonight, but plenty of bugs. Maybe a couple stars. Harvest

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-7294439723587420492009-09-08T07:38:00.000-04:002009-09-08T15:05:33.236-04:00

What do you do for energy when caffeine ceases to be potent enough to keep one's self awake. I'm on my second cup of some really strong coffee, and so far, it's not putting a brace on the eyelids. You can imagine then, that writing this is becoming increasingly difficult through closed eyes. Not that it's needed much. I'm pretty good at typing with my eyes closed. Lets see how long it can last.

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-21376086728879856692009-09-07T02:14:00.000-04:002009-09-07T02:25:35.947-04:00

They say, before you die, that your life passes before your eyes. That you see the events in you life with greater clarity. What does it mean, then, if you see that in a dream. No, not a dream. It felt more like a vision. An event in my life which didn't happen, but feels more real than the room I'm sitting in right now. Not that 'real' isn't hard to fake, I guess. What bothers me the most is the

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-48829192117854664122009-09-05T21:12:00.000-04:002009-09-21T03:16:24.554-04:00

Sleep deprivation is the best. You always feel like everything has greater meaning than it does. Perhaps it does have that meaning. It's as if you know you don't have much time (till you pass out from exhaustion), and that urgency adds a greater meaning to everything. I honestly don't know, but that's the closest thing to sense I get get from it.

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8202586310563265792.post-72311561430565978322009-09-05T10:17:00.001-04:002009-09-07T03:05:36.431-04:00

This is a diary (pervert). This is a stream of consciousness ending in 8 on the side (ie. never). What it is, by definition, is what I choose to make it (oh the beauty of not having constraints). That side note reminded me of a teacher I use to have Freshman year of HS. She had us students (of which I was the only male...not as cool as it sounds) write whatever we wanted to. Didn't matter as long

J. Davishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12619352589658822161noreply@blogger.com0