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HOW COOL IS THAT NAME!!

Anyway...for those of you who don't watch/have American Idol, Phillip Phillips was the season 11 winner and has just released his new album 'The World From The Side of the Moon'. I really encourage all of you to check it out because its awesome.

Here is one of my favourites-Man on the Moon

Its just so cool.

For those who do know him, yeah he was my favourite on Idol. What do you think of his music?

Hey all!
Decided to get back into my short stories, so cnc is greatly appreciated here!


LIKE A CHILD

The overcast was a panorama of what looked like the inside stuffing of a cushion. The mediocre grey engulfed the once blue sky, but it was a comfortable suffocation. My eyes scanned the nostalgia-an abundance of oyster-ridden boulders blurred in the high tide. The concrete transformed into a lane of unstable wood panels, supported only by ancient pillars eaten away by the bay. To many it was just a wharf, but to me it was the playground where I scraped my knee only months ago, just like a child.

My head overheated, both due to the humidity and to my mental explosions. For a firm fifteen minutes I was staring into the daylight abyss, where the sun would normally be. The glue between my feet and the irregular concrete below was unbreakable. The tide prevented my routine adventure over the stepping stones that are the boulders, but out on the other side of the tide was the balance beam. It was an edge of a rock that had modified its hue to a dark plum, and stretched its arm to its limit. It was either the same length, or a little longer than the wharf itself. I couldn’t help but raise my cheeks in an unexpected smile. How was I expected to hate the place in possession of the pinnacle of my childhood? Granted I only discovered it last year, but it was as beautiful and fun then as it is now.

Over a three month period I had formed more memories in the spot where I stood than in my entire youth. Coming back to the wharf was my way of trying to restore what my mind had thrown into the recycle bin. My best friend had emptied the trash after he scraped his knee, but I couldn’t bring myself to lose something so special. My inner child begged for me to go to the playground again, to do something out of the ordinary just once.

But was this really out of the ordinary? I mean sure, I’m re-living memories of my childhood, but a childhood that only died six months ago. Is it so horrible that I want to revisit a simpler part of my history? A time where nobody looked past the next day? A time where we lived without consequences because that’s how we genuinely thought life worked? Sure we were stupid, but we were kids! Like children, we owned our wharf. Like children, we didn’t think anything else mattered more than the moments we enjoyed. But again like children, a scraped knee became detrimental to a friendship. That may be why I’m here today, and why he’s not.

It was time to step back into black and white. The glue dissolved as my snail speed walking led me along the concrete path. To the left were the rocks not even the bravest kids climbed. To the right was the spot he and I used to sit. Our legs would dangle over the jagged edge of the rock. I swung my legs while leaning my head on his right shoulder…

I shook my head and snapped back to my nostalgic reality. That spot remained an empty space, almost sacred. Memory Lane had been paved in front of me in a mass of wooden panels, but it seemed as though the further I walked, the more dangerous it became. The concrete merged into the wood now, and with each step I lingered further into the dark depths of my memory-ridden mind. The high tide was climbing, and suddenly my fear took control of me. I found support in the eroded pillar and sat down against it, taking in the entire atmosphere.

I guess now would be a great time to explain what happened to cause the rift in our friendship. We we’re almost finished with our walk along the stepping stones, and throughout the whole walk his annoyance infuriated me. I tried telling him again and again that I was frustrated with him, but he wouldn’t hear it. He refused. In my anger I pushed him off one of the rocks, cutting his knee. As he emerged from his sea of pain he pulled me down to pull himself up. Coincidentally, I also cut my knee. His cut was a lot deeper than mine, so it was no surprise that he ran as fast as he could, as far as he could, holding back the tears like a child trying to be a man. For the next few weeks my apologies were ineffective, but our scars faded with time’s progression. At face value, our friendship seemed to have been repaired. He had forgiven me and we got along just fine, but I still possessed an overwhelming sense of guilt from that incident.

That may be why I’m here today. Studying memories is a superb way to re-live them. There was something about that incident that he could let go of that I couldn’t. Maybe it really was just guilt. After all, how do you forgive yourself after hurting someone you cared about so much? I guess I’m here to make amends, to repay my debts, and to say my final goodbyes to the playground. I wasn’t a child anymore. Now its just a wharf with a bunch of big rocks.

I sighed loudly, to the point where it could have echoed through the area. It seemed as though there was nothing left for me to do here. Reality may as well have been my mother calling me from the swings, so I dragged my feet as I walked back to the stable concrete. For a fraction of a second my eyes elevated to my normal level, and there he was. I was puzzled, but nobody could have wiped the smile off my face when I saw him. It was exactly like our old afternoons at the playground, but better, because we knew now that not even a scraped knee could ruin this place.

I raised an eyebrow and smirked as I approached him. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the exact same question.” He jeered.

“I guess old habits die hard?”

“Well, I figured that just because you scrape your knee in the playground, doesn’t mean you have to leave there forever.” He smiled and began his little trip down the wooden memory lane.

I walked in the opposite direction, my work here was done. When I was out of his vision I ran as fast as I could, as far as I could, dodging the trees and the curtains of leaves that fell from them. My feet didn’t feel like they touched the ground at all. My smile had been plastered on me from ear to ear. When I was finally out of breath I looked back, still able to catch a glimpse of the water. I’m proud that I ran, doing what I did without thinking of the consequences.

Just like a child.