I know who Wolf is, now.

At first this was just a disambiguated jumble of words in my head, thought proved that there were two voices, imagination drew the picture. Wolf is one of tha main characters from a novel I'm working on. I've mentioned a character description of Matthew from the Mercantilion, and this is something different. Animal symbology remains, as you can see. Reposted with minor spell-check. :D

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Person one dressed in a white shirt, vintage trouser slacks, denim coat over his shoulder calls out into a tiny cement store standing by itself on a street corner. It's past sunset, but night life is abundant, though elsewhere.

PERSON ONE: Hey Wolf, you there, man ?

A voice comes out from behind the store rather than from in it, sound of empty bottles clinking.

PERSON TWO: Fuck you, I'm not Wolf anymore.

Man walks out in ragged clothing, dark oil stains on his sleeves and pants and his half-burnt half-tanned skin looks like seasoned meat before hitting the oven. He's got a drunk swagger but his eyes are fixed on the guy who called out earlier.

PERSON TWO: They call me the fucking Merlin now, 'cuz I'm their wizard, see.

He grins. Still drunk.

MERLIN: Get your ass inside, boy, we'll have a nice chat.

They walk in to the store, a third-rate bar with round card tables and some musky smell coming from the back. Probably the rig Merlin was working before the visitor came in. Merlin grabs two chinese beers. In the fridge-light he looks like he's phillipino. Can't tell from his accent, though. Tsingtao clinks on the card table.

MERLIN: I hear they call you a fucking street samurai, running around with the name of the Wolf, now... A real dread pirate, aren't ya ?

The man called Wolf doesn't touch the beer, he stares at it hard before he tosses his jacket on the table, and slumps down in his chair, looking back at Merlin whose laughing at his own joke. Wolf doesn't get it.

WOLF: Doesn't matter so much what they say about me, doc, it's you I came to talk about. You've changed, Henry, like the world don't matter none to you.

Merlin laughs again, but Wolf doesn't let him dodge the question, so he takes his time, drinks his beer and gets cozy to tell his story like he's been waiting for this chance some years now.

MERLIN: I ain't fucking around no more, kid, that's all. Grew me a pair of balls where I didn't have none before and started shooting the shit just to see if things were still real... It ain't me whose fucking changed, boy, this whole world has, and I'm trying to hold it back like a fly against a dam... I'm fucking drowning, kid, and that's all that's left for me.

He was crying now, but he pretended he wasn't.

WOLF: Slick Henry said he never had to swear before... that's changed.

MERLIN: Well fuck that, I just wisened up, is all. I still don't swear, not in the real sense, not like suits swear on a bad day, I just say fuck, like fucking fuck it, I've had my share of fucking, I don't wanna fuck no more...

He's downed his beer, and grabs the second untouched one and flicks the cap off with his thumb.

MERLIN: That's all we really are here for, you know, kid ? Fuck ain't a swear word, it's something we do, all of us. I don't go around yelling cunt-ass-niggershit, that's just asking to be hung over some railing; the fuck-word's an invocation.

WOLF: How you figure ?

MERLIN: You hear them sisters in the church telling you not to use the lord's name in vain ? Over fucking five-hundred years ago, people around the world used to chant mantras with demon's or devil's names as if it'd protect them, like they were somehow weakened when you knew their name - like it fucking signified something.

There was an akward silence like Merlin said something profound and he was waiting for Wolf to agree, but that didn't happen, Wolf just appears stunned as if everything was just going over his head, so Merlin takes anoter sip to lube his throat.

MERLIN: That's our invocation, see. Fuck. That's what we do, what we're here for, and that's why they're all ashamed of it, like it's something you can't ever say in public when you know they've all done it, or they want to do it, or thinking of fucking right as you're saying it. Look at our fucking population crisis - you think that people would think twice about reproducing; fucking caths don't even wear fucking condoms, shit.

There. That was it, and Merlin finally broke down from his own lecture and started convulsing in his chair. Wolf didn't move. Not at first, eventually he got up and pulled a roll of bills from the trouser's pocket and placed it on the table where Merlin was covering his face with his dirty sleeve. Wolf walks out around back and Merlin calms down to a heavy engine's rev as it shakes the bar, shaking the hanging glasses and the bottles clumped together in the fridge. Then it tears, and the engine thunders away, shifting gears atleast twice before it disapears. Merlin's calmed, but he's still crying. Guy was a wizard all right, Wolf thought as he was well on the other side of the city. In more ways than one. The way he put you in a trance when he just spouts bullshit, and all the while he's already worked his magic behind the curtain, out back. The City's border check scans him as he passes the dome's walls and a brisk wind nearly blows him off the road. It's cold out, and Wolf realizes he left his jacket with the wizard. He can't go back, now. Fuck it.

Satalite Sword Theory

Before I make a point of conceptualizing my belief in my sword theory, I wish to prelude with a thought probe into what the use of swordsmanship, or rather a martial art is. In origin, a martial art was a means for one body to combat and defeat another body, and since it's invention, it has seen many uses, but in today's world, without the act of war, the average western citizen sees very little practical use of physical prowess in a combative bout with another. So what then is the need for learning such an art ? Many reasons cited by echelon are that of mind and/or body purification, through which the person experiences a spiritual journey alongside with the tutelage of the art, but much more often, one admits that it's a means to improve the physical condition of the body, through the vigorous training required to apply the art.

I must admit that my reasons for pursuing a martial art lie in the former reason, as my internal critique of my own subconscious tells the tale of a being which lusts for conflict. I've often felt it's presence, as an alter-ego peeking through my consciousness, affecting my behavior when I let my mental guard down through frustration of anxiety. Rational thought tells me to keep this being under lock and key, and will not allow me to explore it, and as a result, I've found myself musing at my own limits. Mankind is a curious creature, and adage tells us that it was curiosity that killed the cat... but satisfaction brought him back.

My spiritual journey is to the limits of my mind. While not an impressive trait, I pride myself in a stubborn and resilient mind, which only serves to make my curiosity stronger. However, there are certain limits as to what I may do to satisfy that curiosity, and I certainly do not wish to regret any action as a consequence of such curiosity, and that is why I've taken the vow to never get drunk, for instance. The path that I've decided to take myself through this journey is martial arts. Through the course of my training, I shall seek to understand the truth that lies hidden in every fiber of my body, as well as the limit at which the being within me wakes up.

My goals established, I wish to talk about the fundamentals behind my concept, named Satellite Sword theory. Take a bird's eye view of a martial artist. the centre of his two dimensional mass to the furthest point from his body, excluding the arms is the Object. It is the centre of all that we are able to influence in this world, and as such, everything is seen as from a frame of reference revolving around it.

Once that image is in your mind, imagine now, a planet from the centre of your palm, of which the radius is the furthest part of your hand from the centre, excluding the fingers and the thumb. This is the satellite orbiting the Sun, and it is both the closest to the Sun as well as the most influenced by (for now, we shall only deal with one hand). As you imagine your arm moving about, picture in the overhead view, that the satellite is capable of both orbit as well as moving towards and away from the Sun, however, it's range is limited, by which the length of the wrist to the shoulder is the maximum distance between the Sun and it's satellite planet. This distance is important to note, as given a straight line, this is the maximum distance allowed for the satellite to move, before the Sun must follow for it to advance. While easier to conceptualize this way, it should not be mistaken to treat the satellite to having only two-dimensional movement.

The most basic use of the satellite is to travel, and gain momentum, when employed by itself. given that force is equal to mass times acceleration, the more time an object is subjected to an acceleration, the greater it's impact will be. So even when a straight line from the Sun to the target can be achieved by the Satellite, a proper calibration of a curved path can generate enough force, without taking more time than necessary. If the right-hook is too slow, a more gradual curve would be optimal, while still maintaining force, it's extension-to-contact time is quicker. However, once the Sun itself moves, the mass behind the force is that of the whole system, and this also increases the final impact power.

In any given combat, a martial artist has the use of two legs, and two arms, each forming a satellite of it's own, given the rules of measurement being adapted for the legs from that of the arms. Both pairs of satellites have their own maximum reach as well, and as such, the legs are given a second tier of satellites as they are not expected to both be capable of striking at all times, yet when even one is in use, it's reach is usually longer than that of the arms. A third level of tier is granted to both elbows and knees, despite range, for they are all usable in extremely close quarter combat. As such, they are given a level in tier as priority levels. With both feet planted on the ground, a martial artist is capable of using both Tier-one satellites at their maximum extension, with optimal mobility. Sacrificing some of that mobility grants the use of one, or rarely two Tier-two satellites which are capable of using the distance granted by their maximum reach. However, by sacrificing the reach, one may use Tier-three satellites to deliver powerful blows, despite the restrictive range. Finally, when a weapon is used, it becomes the most primary satellite available, as as such, a weapon's category shall be known as Tier-ought, or Zero-tier. The measurement of the Tier-ought is judged by the centre of the most critical impact with the distance to the closest edge of threat as the radius. On a straight blade, this would be near the tip, while on a curved blade, this is closer to the centre, and often larger.

While the three tiers of satellites are easily, and interchangeably employed, it also means that the defence against an enemy attack can follow the same movements. The most desired defence pushes the attack away from what is the Core of the Sun. The Core is the region of the body, measured from the centre, to the shortest part of the torso, as a radius. The closer to the core the attack makes contact, the more percent damage from the attack is inflicted. Ergo, it is the most important duty of a satellite to be able to reject an opposing satellite from contact. However, under proper execution, only similar tiers should be allowed to defend against each other.

To be continued.

Breathe Worlds

Another day of a satisfying labour, still lagging behind where I should be, and musical epihany comes to me - oh and a re-cap on a nightmare (this one is nice).

I Don't Wanna Know The Reason You Ran Away
I just want to know the reason why I love this song, and it's because Anna Tsuchiya writes her lyrics with such a tomboyish feel that it's almost male. Time after time, it feels like I can relate to her songs more than any girls I know might. This time, though, I loved this song for a bittersweet reason (one of my favourite flavours of reason), and that reason was because it broke my heart. Shrunk the poor thing 'till it couldn't be smaller, and then gently ground it up. However, unlike her usual feel, which is always sounds extremely personal, this time, I felt like the reason she was singing with sadness in her voice - and that's why it hurt and felt good at the same time (a quick reminder to the audience that Jun is not a masochist) - was because the song was about a boyfriend who leaves her with little to no explanataion, and she feels like she did nothing wrong, and chooses to move on. Of course she doesn't regret this, but it's not like it doens't hurt to move on, right ? I've had some issues with being clingy, so I know that feeling first-hand, but the way she sings "I don't wanna show the tears I shed on YOU", I can't help but feel some sort of sting as if she was singing to me, and I somehow was her lover (I'd have been a better one, of course), but I thought this was especially heart-provoking, because it made me feel like I was relating to the only person in this song who regrets something... which leads me to only all sorts of introspectal questions (all of which I won't address here). No digress needed, I'm done my periodical raving of how great Anna Tsuchiya's music is. It, by the way, is great.

Fear and Violence
Two lovely things that combined themselves in my most recent nightmare. I'm still in awe of how horribly twisted it was. Well here goes my recount of the only scene I still remember:

The plot was about some sort of 'Evil-spirit Infestation' which seemed to take over dead people's bodies and go around killing people who would become more dead bodies which serve these spirits, and they go around killing things in random psychotic ways... because that's what manifested evil spirits do.

It's dark, and it's night - there was very little in terms of ambient detail but it was at stretch of road with no lights, and surrounded by woods. A small bus is driving down the road at a fairly fast speed with a woman at the wheel and a lone child in the middle of the bus. Suddenly, the bus is rammed from the side by a massive bulldozer - a man is driving it and he has a terrified expression on his face - the woman and the child start screaming as he topples the bus and pushes it into a roadside ditch. He starts pushing the sides of the ditch down onto the bus, attemptin to bury it and the child starts to screech. I'm so terrified of what I'm dreaming now, it felt like I was watching from not far away, instead of simply watching a movie. The man looks terrified, too, and he keeps pushing the dirt down and the bus is now nearly covered, and the child is screeching and banging on the window. It sounds so shrill and it just doesn't end - I feel like this scene doesn't end as she just keeps screeching without pausing for breath, but then, without warning, it finally stops, and the bus is completely under the dirt. The man pauses and starts shaking, as if he was too afraid to even express his fear untill now, but something doesn't seem right to me, and before I can think of what, the girl drops down in front of the bulldozer's windshield and screeches again - it's so much louder now and I start shaking, myself. The windshield breaks inwards and the pieces tear into the man's body and cut him all over - it looks like he's already dead, but the girl keeps screeching, but more gutturally this time. If you've seen the Grudge, think about that ribbiting noise, only make it shrill and as if you had no limit to how long you could do it. She starts licking up his blood with her fingers and that's about when I wake up, petrified in my bed, because for some reason, I thought she might be in my closet.

Reality check, I am not a 9 year old kid, right ? Right.

A Lion Shares... The Mercantilion concept work

Just some thoughts on Matthew Zieffer which may lead me to take a more anthromorphic leap in the character development.

From the Online Etymology Dictionary, for "Lion":
" Used figuratively from c.1200 in an approving sense, "one who is fiercely brave," and a disapproving one, "tyrannical leader, greedy devourer." Verb lionize "to treat (someone) as a celebrity" was used by Scott, 1809, and preserves lion in the sense of "person of note who is much sought-after" (1715), originally in ref. to the lions formerly kept in the Tower of London (referred to thus from late 16c.), objects of general curiosity that every visitor in town was taken to see. Lion's share "the greatest portion" is attested from 1790."

I had already decided that the Emblem of this both fictitious, and to-be factitious enterprise would be an adaptation of Singapore's Merlion: a Mercantilion - a creature who symbolizes sovergnity over not only land and water, but also air - sitting proudly, for his profile, he stretches one wing to the right side, the direction he also faces with his gaze and fish-tail. The effect, from a far: a distinguised "E" which shall be proudly branded on all of it's property.

The root of Mercantilion is also Mercantile - but more so focused on the practise known as Mercantalism initiated by the British in control of colonies across the globe. True to this concept, Matthew's aim is to bring his corporation to power, by the aquisition, and then subjugation of the foci of power around him. Wealth is simply one of the tools that can be used to aquire this power, but Matthew knows better than to trust any measure that wealth has brought him.

As far as virtues go, Matthew is a twisted personification of courage, for he is neither rash nor fearful, but menacingly calculative. Through personal introspection, this is meaningless as Matthew does not take a 'risk' as he would define it. However, in the eyes of the beholder, his calculated actions, based off of his superior intelect, overcome the boundries set by a 'fear of the unkown result' by the common observer; his actions appear courageous as he presses his path forward and bends the consequences to his favour. His false courage is not only a cause of awe, but his actions are commited, and he prefers them carried out thoroughly - as such, he relies on various resources to get the job done, and isn't hesitant to get his hands bloody.

But for all that and more, Matthew displays himself as the rich socialite - an executive playboy who flirts with power. Like any power player, he knows the best ways to tie the leash around those around him as tight as he can without choking them to death. It his his ultimate prize to dangle his promises like morsels to a pet - a serious Napolean complex. But he's not the only one to feel that way - He's the desire of every woman (some secretly, and others quite openly), who see promises of the exquisite lifestyle waiting at the top of the food chain.

The laws of the system are the rules of the game he plays; a true Machiavellian Prince - he's a man to which all the world only stands to make him more supreme. He has no equal inside his playing field for those who conform to the rules are but his pawn; he, the king.

That is all for now, especially on Matthew - who I am most raptured by - the other two of interest will be discussed later, though it may be difficult with no solid symbol (such as Matthew's overt personification of a Lion) to guide my train of thought.

Next up, the Lion's worst enemy: Hyenas, baring the totem fangs for the mercenary outlaw society that seems to have contracts with Matthew's enemies.

If and When.

One day I asked my friends, "if one day I travel to the moon, will you come with me ?" and left silently before they could respond. Looking back, I don't regret it, but I often wish they'd have come with me. When I'm with them now, I can see the differences between us - their colours are painted by the Earth; so abstract and alien to me, a moonling.

It's lonely on the Moon, yet so beautiful because of it's mysterious allure - most people think that was the thinking of the past, now technology tells us everything about the mysteries we once wondered about. On Earth, no one feels the wanderlust, no one really wants to leave their security and thrust their minds into space rarely visited.

I'm upset today because many of the invitations to the Moon that I left behind, I turn to find them gone. From the few entries here, my easter-eggs that opened the window to my Moon have been erased, and there is no one left to ask again...