Synethesia

2009-09-25T21:25:00.005+10:00

It was the smell of it that Jack found so repugnant. The curdling stench of the rotting carcass filled his nostrils with a sensation that he had never experienced.

Jack, you see, was from another world. A world of proper etiquette and formal expression. His world was surrounded with, as he is now beginning to learn, a falseness of reality. He only knew the world to be of sights, sounds and smells that had a created purpose of enjoyment and desire. His world had only expensive purchased smells of freshly cut flowers, eau de colognes, perfumes and the 'wanted' or desired aromas of life. He saw only success and fortune and heard the things in the world that we all desire. Birds chirping sharp retorts that enhance the splash of bright colour on the morning canvass. The fiery hustle and bustle of a busy city with its tactile feel of life and energy. The gentle cool breezes caressing treetops in the afternoon so real they exhumed the tang of summer holidays past. This is what he is used to.

It was his parents that were at fault. They created this world for him. They customized a world where pain was limited and disappointment was a measured response to a burgeoning level of achievement.

It was only now that he started to see it for himself that the world was not in fact a gentle place. It was not a place where opportunity abounds. Sorrow and heartache were not feelings that were individually created from mistake and errors in judgment. It was becoming more apparent justice and fairness were not tangible objects equally metered out for those of us who deserved it. Justice and fairness may in fact be intangible created concepts that sometimes can reek of corrupt and random merit. They may not be in fact earned but delivered like the purity of the crisp and flavorsome piano sing-a-long at Christmas dinner.

Who was this person that lay before him? What had they done to deserve such an awful and degrading death? Did they deserve it in fact? They looked liked anyone from his world. Well dressed and at some point possible wearing the expensive perfumes that he was more used to. But not now. He leant down and snapped on a rubber glove to investigate further. The stench was overwhelming to the point of the rotting flesh encompassing all of his senses. He could feel the decomposing skin before he touched it. Cold and lifeless, the sight of it triggered a gagging reflex that he could taste. The sound of the flies and maggots created a black spot in his vision.

Maybe it was his fault, his parents did warn him not join the police force. He can hear his father saying,"There are parts of the world Jack that require no investigation. These places can be destructive to the soul. The same way an unwanted pest can infest a house. These places can infest the soul of a man like the blackening of charcoal on an open fire. You do not need to experience this to feel whole."

Maybe he should have listened but he suspected his new appointment as assistant homicide investigator would be as important an experience in his life as the previous twenty-two years were possibly a mistake.

The First Post

2009-09-16T13:32:00.003+10:00

Yep I'm new. This is the first post of many I hope.

In setting up this blog, unfortunately there is no clear plan, no clear direction nor is there any specific purpose. Maybe you call it rambling, I guess in the literary world they would call it musing or journaling (is that a word?).

I guess the main reason for this is that once you put this stuff out into the internet ether it tends to take on a much more serious note. It becomes, well somewhat important, no matter what it is.

I guess we can think of it as some kind of internet imposed discipline (is that an IID?).

All of a sudden, the words appear to have greater meaning than being locked up in my hard drive. Fifty years ago I guess a handwritten journal or diary would attempt to serve in this function. But now I write it, a quick read and bam for the entire world to see.

And that's the difference, for the entire world to see.

However, there is a catch, I can remain anonymous...yep I can write as male, female, animal, mineral or vegetable. I could be an important person, a nobody, a celebrity or more than one person.

Sure, the diary thing was great fifty years ago. The smell of the leather bound journal with that little lock that ensured privacy (NOT!) but here I can really remain anonymous.

How cool.

I wonder what this will evolve into.

A DOSE OF DYSON

Synethesia

The First Post