March 2010 - David Budd

03/01

I am considering not doing this batch.

'Oh no!' I hear you cry, 'How could we ever survive without one of your deeply philosophical and frequently funny batches.'

To which I would reply, 'Sarcasm doesn't really work for you. Go and practice.'

And then you would say, 'I honestly couldn't care less whether you finished this batch. You're pathetic.'

And I would say, angrily, 'Yeh, well...You must of read my batches in order to work out that I was pathetic, so Ha!'

You would then storm out of the room, scream 'I hate you!', and leave my life forever.

03/02

'I'm probably not going to do this month's batch.' I said

'Oh, that's a shame.' You said

'Are you being sarcastic?' I said

'No, of course not. It's just that, well, I know how much you enjoy writing them.' You said

'...Are you sure you're not being sarcastic?' I said

'I'm sure.' You laughed

'It's just that...I thought you would be more sarcastic.' I said

'Sorry to dissapoint you.' You said

'That's ok.' I said

'What are you going to do instead?' You said

'No idea.' I said

'Maybe you should go on a journey.' You said

'I should.' I said

03/03

Instead of writing in this month's batch, I started to pack for my jouney. It did not take long.

I took some clothes, some money, a sketchbook, a pencil, a pen, my health, my memories, my phone, a coat and my saxophone.

I felt that there would be no need for a map.

Saying goodbye did not take long. I said goodbye to him and her and you. I whispered goodbye to my sky, wrote goodbye to my God. I sent His goodbye by first class post.

Letting my legs carry me forwards, I embarked upon this brave new world.

03/04

After three miles of walking, I came to a split in the road.

The road leading to the right was paved with gold slabs and silver trees and platinum clouds and ruby grass and emerald skys and a sweet, sweet smell in the air. There was even a big neon light telling tavellers to go in this direction.

To the left was a road made of harsh granite. No trees. The air was heavy with guilt. The only light was provided by lost fireflies.

I stopped and concidered what direction to take.

I went straight on, making my own path.

03/05

The going was not difficult. The grass was neither absent nor obtrusive. It simply upped its roots and moved out of my way, bowing slightly as I went past.

After a while, I sat down on a rock.

After a while, a rock sat down on me.

It was not very pleasant, I must say. In the end, I had to push him off. Once on the floor, it started to stare at me, angrily. It was rather disconcerting, being stared at by something with no eyes.

In an effort to make peace, I gave him some of my health.

03/06

I had no idea what this would do.

Upon recieving my health, the rock started to shake voilently. It defied the laws of gravity, floated, shrinking and expanding at the same time.

Veins of ruby appeared on the surface.
A brain of silicon was formed.
Eyes of emeralds opened.
Legs and arms grew, strengthed by granite.

After what seemed like eternity compressed into a small bottle, a pure diamond smile broke out of the creavases of the rock's face.

And that is how the very first troll came into existance. Through me.

I gave him a name. Gergorius. Names are important.

03/07

Gregorius was not quite sure what to do.

It seems that I had to give him a purpose. To do this, I carved the words think, protect, create, grow, multiply and, most importantly, happiness on the back of his skull.

Then, I pointed him in what I thought was an easterly direction and gave him a little push.

Gregorius started to walk. He never looked back.

I started to wonder whether this was how God felt. I decided to ask Him next time we came into contact.

Turning to face the wind, I thought,

'My heart feels like stone.'

03/08

For a fraction of eternity, I sat down and cried.

When I felt more human, I collected my tears and stored them in a bottle, in case I ever needed them again.

My whole essance was tried, so I let my legs carry my for part of the jouney. Then they started complaining, so determination took up the load. After a while, even he was unable to continue.

I heavily flew to the floor and curled tight in a ball.

I would like to say that it was a dark and dull day. It wasn't. It was rather sunny.

03/09

Everything looks better after a good nights sleep.

Finally, I came to another crossroads. Left or right. Whilst deciding which route to take, an old man hovered into view and started to stare at me disconcertingly.

Ignoring him, I chose the right.

Suddenly, the old man spoke

'You don't want to go that way. That path is far too difficult for the likes of you.'

With my head bent low, I chose the left.

The old man spoke again

'Actually, there's no way you will be able to make it down that way. You just don't seem to be good enough.'

03/10

The old man continued.

'In fact, it would be better if you just turned around and went back to your past. You don't have the right qualities to allow you to continue onwards. Trust me.'

Listening to him had made my head go in a spin. When firmly back in place, I concidered his words. In the end, I asked

'And who are you to make these assumptions?'

To which he replied

'Me? Well, I am an expert.'

I immediatly felt relieved.

'How many of these roads have you travelled?'

'Well...none. But trust me, I know more than you.'

03/11

I continued the conversation.

'So...you've not travelled down any of these roads, yet you know that I myself will not be able to continue down them.'

'Absolutely. I have read many books about these two roads and where they lead to. Indeed, I have it on good authority that you will fail if you continue.'

'And whose authority is it?'

'...Mine. But trust me, I'm an expert.'

It was at this point that I terminated the conversation. I have never listened to experts before, and never will.

Ignoring his loud, derogatory protests, I went down the right road.

03/12

After a while, I came upon a rain forest.

Not one of those described in the books, with those wonderful pictures of trees and animals, but an actual rain forest.

It was one of the most beautiful and perfect moments of my life.

Trunks of pure water defied physics, standing upright. Not proudly, simply there. Leaves of crystalline droplets refracted (or reflected, I never can remember which) light, creating rainbows which fused together, in turn creating more rainbows with different colours, several unknown to man. Like moccoccan

I just stared until my eyes grew fat upon this wonderful feast of nature.

.

03/13

Being a proper and true scientist, I decided to conduct an experiment with these liquid forms of vegetation.

It is a well known fact that it is aerodynamically impossible for a bee to fly. However, as we have never taken the time to explain this to them, they continue to do so.

I therefore went up to a tree and, feeling slightly silly, I must say, told it that it could not exist.

Immediatly, it crashed, crushed and crooshed to the ground, hydrating the earth.

I tried this another coulple if times to the same effect, completely ignoring the destruction.

03/14

Once I had finished said experiment, I looked around and saw that I had destroyed nearly two-fifths of the rain forest.

Feeling decidedly guity, I wondered how I could rectify one of my more serious mistakes. It was at this point that I immediatly remembered my tears for the creature Gregorious.

Fishing in my bag, the glass jar in which the tears were kept finally snapped the bait. Lifting it out, I set it on the ground and thought about the next course of action.

My health was failing, so I could not use that same trick again.

03/15

One of those genius ideas that fly around the universe finally found its way into my poor brain.

Taking the tears out of the jar, I planted them, one by one, in the spaces that the other trees had left. Once done, I poured earth upon them, in the hope that this would give them nutrition to help them grow.

I also sat down and prayed.

I do not know whether water trees have a God, but whilst I was pouring out my soul, the tears started to grow. Only a few inches, but it was a water fresh start.

03/16

I found it difficult to decide what to do next and, quite frankly, the story...sorry, I mean journey...was running out of steam.

To paraphrase, I visited many wierd and wonderful places, philosophied with many people, did funny things, made poiniant thoughts, described wonderful natural phenemenon, made friends, met up with Gregorius again, marvelled at the beauty of something, stole ideas from other books, fell in and out of love, made people start to call me Ishmael, ect...

I also probably saved someone.

Finally, I went home, and wrote all about my adventures on the website 100 words.com...

03/17

'Hi, I'm back.'

'Hello. How was the journey?'

'Well, you know. It was a journey. Did some things, saved some stuff, that sort of thing.'

'Do you feel any better?'

'In a medical sense, no. In a psychedelic, spritual, out of this world kind of sense...no.'

'Oh.'

'But I do feel better in myself. Less depressed, more happy kind of thing.'

'That's good. What are you going to do now?'

'Well...probably go back to what I was doing before.'

'Do you want to go out to lunch first?'

'I'm not too sure...'

sigh

'I'll pay'

'Most definatly.'

03/18

So, my experiment to write a story for the whole month failed.

Rather spectacularly, might I add.

Next time, if there is a next time, I'll plan more, create a proper plot and real characters, rather than just winging it day by day.

WAIT A SECOND

If I do this, will I be breaking the rules?

To quote

'You are expected to write on that day and for that day. For the sake of the exercise, you should not "write ahead" nor should you "catch up" at the end of the month. 100 Words is about capturing life on a daily basis, then examining those days across a period of time.'

...uh-oh

03/19

'Have you ever had a perfect moment?'

'Of course. All the time.'

'Such as...'

'When I recieved a letter from an author critiquing my work. When I first understood binomial expansion. Picking my first flower. Making my first meal. Reading anything and everything, Playing my instrument so well that I made my teacher shake. Picking up a pen. My first solo. Waking up this morning. Watching the sun. Apreciating beauty. Being with you.'

'...That's a lot of perfect moments.'

'I suppose my definition of perfect is simpler than most people's.'

'I think you definition is the correct one, though.'

'Thanks.'

03/20

I sometimes confuse reality with the virtual world.

Sometimes, I'll be writing an essay for english, and half way through, I'll try and save it.

control-s, control-s. Why are you not working you stupid...? Oh...

For a few seconds, I am genuinely confused as to why I don't see the little hour-glass at the bottom of my vision.

Also, when I walk down corridors, I sometimes get an overwhelming urge to giggle to myself.

For no reason

I worry that I'm going slightly mad. If start writing about eating people's ears/faces, come and stop me please.

03/21

What my first ever date will be like

'Hi'

'Hello'

'...You look very nice.'

'Thank you.'

'Your earings especially.'

'That's very kind of you. They used to belong to my Grandmother. She's dead.'

'...Oh.'

Akward silence

'So...how's your day been?'

'Ok.'

'Brilliant.'

Another akward silence

'What do you reckon you'll have to eat?'

'No idea. Probably the fish.'

Yet another akward silence

'...Forget this.'

...

'Did you just kiss me?'

'...Yes...Sorry.'

'...So...where do we go from here?'

'No idea. I kind of thought that this large romantic gesture would solve all our problems.'

'Right...'

'...How about we order?'

'Sounds good.'

03/22

I was an evil genius when younger

Every breaktime, we would get out scooters and small bikes and cars and spacehoppers and suchlike and were able to play on them until the teacher blew the whistle and then we had to swap over.

I loved a blue scooter. It has a lightningbolt.

When playing with it, I saw the teacher go to blow the whistle, but stopped.

Assuming that we would swap soon, I gave the scooter to someone else.

When the whistle blew, I went to the teachers, told them the boy hadn't swapped, and took the scooter back.

03/23

I need to practice writing poetry.

Actually, I don't need to practise writing poetry, It's just that I would like to up my skills from abysmal to average. If possible.

Reading everybody else's efforts in class made me feel rather inadequate. Comparing my poem's to theirs was like comparing Homer's 'Odessy' with Dr, Seuss' 'Green eggs and ham'.

Not that there is anything wrong with 'Green eggs and ham'.

I suppose I can't write poetry because I have never really had strong emotions. No love, hate, anger, euphoria etc.

To conclude: I can't do poetry and I'm a boring person.

03/24

Adam looked out the window and sighed.

He was not having a good day. He had discovered that he was in love.

This was not a state he wanted to be in. Exams were coming up, and he wanted his mind to be totally focused on the important things, like binomial expansion and quarks.

Not girls.

Well, one girl in particular.

He was concidering writing a poem about her, but science coursework was due in, and that had to take priority.

Anyway, he was sure that whatever he wrote would be more insulting than complimentary. He wasn't good with words.

03/25

I want to escape from here.

Escape from the clashing chords and screeches. Run away from this world of not-enough-time and half rhyme. This place where you're fed fat on dreams while the soul screams. Where rocket past the sky expectations have a slight technical difficulty, simply impossible to repair, and come crashing back down to earth. This is a world where you can call love hate, and get away with it. This is a world where beauty is decimated in the name of beauty. It disgusts me.

Do you want to escape with me?

...Please say yes.

03/26

There are times when jazz just is not appropriate. Observe.

'Romeo, oh Romeo. Wherefore art thou my Romeo?'

'Here I am, Juliet my love.'

'Oh Romeo, will thou sing like a skylark for my pleasure?'

'Of course my dear. Ahem. One, two, a one, a two, a... Play that funky music white booooy. Play that funky muusssic riiiiiight. Yeh.'

'Romeo! What do you think you are doing?'

'I'm so sorry Juliet. I, I...I don't know what came over me.'

I tried playing that song to my girlfriend once on our six month anniversary. It was not well recieved.

03/27

Why I cant rite poetry...a poem

The reasons why my poems are so utterly horiblle

Are not because my ryhmes are quite simply awfull

It's not that I can never seem to fit in the right amount of stresses

Or that I put in random words to make it rhyme. Messes.

Sometimes the sylibles just do not add up.

And the speling, well, the less sed, the better. Cup.

The reason why my poetry is so bad.

Is because I never write about a proper subject. Sad.

If only my poetry could be
Good. Like me friend's is, you see.

03/28

I have many fears.

I am afraid of bees, women, wasps, the future, girls, casual conversation, surprises, females, some dogs, utter silence, members of the female species, social situations, strangers, talking to girls, physical contact, physical contact with girls...etc.

However, I am not afraid of death. Which, to be honest, seems a much more worthy thing to be afraid of than the other things previously mentioned.

Do I not care whether I live or die? No. I quite like living. It's far more interesting than death.

No, the reason why I'm not afraid is, I just don't plan to die.

03/29

'...so she said that, were it not for her already going out with this other boy, she would ask me to the ball.'

'Huh.'

'...What?'

'Well, that just kinda sums up your life, doesn't it?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well. You know. You're always second best. Were it not for someone else, you would be the best at science. Were it not for someone else, you would be the tallest person in school. Were it not for someone else, you would have a date rather than be depressingly alone.'

'...What're you doing to me?'

'Sorry. It needed to be said.'

03/30

'I've been reading your 100 words.'

'Right.'

'And there is one particular phrase that rather worries me.'

'Right.'

'The fact that you say that you are not planning to die...'

'Right.'

'The fact is, you are going to die. It's inevitable. It's a fact of life. Death, including yours, will happen.'

'Right.'

'It's just that, you seem a bit...dissolusioned to the whole concept.'

'Right.'

'So I thought that I would set things straight.'

'Right.'

'You know, clear things up.'

'Right.'

'...Right.'

'Are you going to try and destroy any other harmless and simple believes that I hold?'

'No.'

'Good.'

03/31

'HELLO DAVID.'

'Hello...who are you?'

'I AM DEATH.'

'Oh...'

'I HEAR THAT YOU DO NOT PLAN ON DYING?'

'Well, when I said that...I didn't really, you know, mean it...as such. It was just...well... a sort of...joke...hah hah.'

'HAH HAH INDEED.'

'...Thanks'

'I JUST CAME TO SAY THAT, I THOUGH THAT YOUR PLAN WAS VERY GOOD.'

'Thank you very much.'

'UTTERLY IMPOSSIBLE, BUT GOOD NEVERTHELESS.'

'Right.'

'YOU SEE, THERE ARE FAR TOO MANY PEOPLE THESE DAYS WHO ACTUALLY WANT TO DIE.'

'Oh.'

'BUT I AM GLAD TO SEE THAT YOU STILL CLING ON TO LIFE.'

'...Thanks.'