Society

When – by design – one believes in the unsurmounted and unbending goodwill of humanity; they shall be swallowed whole into the gaping depths of society’s maw. Full of gnashing teeth and claret dripping fangs – society is a terrifying being. Atop those atrociously horrifying canines, sit a million eyes that twirl and dart with a nervous edge; ebony irises do not miss a thing. If Dante had described a beast fit for his hell, society would have been it. Or perhaps it was the fiery pit that he spoke of.  

A Silent Cacophony – Book Trailer

I am a sickness,” I whispered to myself as I stared at my reflection.

“I am a revolting mockery of God’s finest work, a condition that can’t be cured.” Nicolai O’Riley hates himself. He hates his attraction to men and his inability to change himself, but most of all he hates looking into his bathroom mirror and seeing a monster. For that’s what he was . . . gay . . . sick . . . an abomination.

After eighteen years of being loved by his family and his peers, it all changed over night. Suddenly he went from The Nicolai of Holudule High to the gay freak who walked around with his head turned towards the floor. After losing everything, all he has left to him is his black guitar, an old collection of Shakespeare’s works . . . and his self-hatred.

It all changes when he meets a girl.

The girl who tries to teach him that love is still love . . . no matter it’s form.

A tale of friendship, prejudice, self discovery and most importantly . . . Loyalty. So turn the -figurative — page and follow the story of Nicolai O’Riley, he’s crazy Irish Uncle, Lyra Evans . . . and a few gay men that are quite happy to show him the perks of belonging to the Queer community.

Splendour

Coming along to the Equal Love Rally in Sydney on the 1st of Sept?

A Silent Cacophony – Chapter Sixteen (Nicolai.)

        “Despite my original fear of all things gay, I was . . . having fun. I was actually enjoying moving freely about upon the obsidian dance floor. Even while I was surrounded by what seemed to be a sea of half dressed men, my fear of social situations seemed to be entirely obsolete amongst the dancing crowd. For it was obvious that they simply didn’t . . . care.

         They didn’t care that I wasn’t dressed like some throwback from the hood. They weren’t standing by, watching with malicious eyes – waiting for me to open my mouth – ready to bombard me with a host of brutal insults. They didn’t care that I was encroaching upon their territory. They didn’t care that my eyes were straying from the ground – surveying this new world.

       Because I was one of them.

        Here with these people, my sexuality wasn’t a freakish anomaly, but commonplace; all but expected. And for the first time in a long time, I was no longer a misfit.”

My Writing Room.

Sea World – San Diego Trip

When Hope Is Gone.

Like that absolute peace and stillness before the crashing and earth reverberating storm hits. Before the black clouds rolled in, promising destruction. Long before ice cold water pelted from the sky onto the life below. Death had a prelude performance too. A show of such amazement and wonder that it baffled the mind. Then, when the storm rolls in, and you lose everything. You find out that the storm doesn’t kill.

       No the real killer, is the ending of hope.

Useless Tears and Silent Prayers.

Whispering Knives

As the moon rose into the bloody red sky, the last sound that pervaded the quiet slowed, until – finally – the single heartbeat stuttered and then stopped. The great sandy dessert was finally and completely silent.

        In the silence a great, wrenching cry sounded from the heavens.

              And somewhere in the world a woman wept.

Silence?

When silence is met, all noise must be conquered. The two cannot possibly survive in the same space; for a glass cannot be both completely empty and completely full. When a cacophony of sounds bombards ones ears in an almost overwhelming din, there simply can be no silence.

Than, when one seems to be suffocating in silence, no noise can exist for than it is not silence, but sound. But silence – it seems – is not as soundless as we always assume. For silence has the ability to scream and holler and whisper and gasp. It is in the silence   that we speak the most truth – with expressions and actions, observation and understanding.  Now whether that means that silence is simply impossible to achieve or that it is just a little louder than first imagined, is impossible to figure out.

So pause . . . can you hear that?

Silence.