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Commentary for I Lay Awake in Morentoff

Not to brag, but I love this poem. There’s so much ambiguity.

“I was still
in the dark”

This could mean “still in the dark” as in “I had been in the dark previously and I remained in the dark.” Or it could mean “I was still“, i.e. staying still and not moving. Both are true.

Throughout, we will see literal darkness vs. metaphorical darkness (i.e. despair etc.). So that makes for four possible interpretations of the opening two lines.

Returning to the poem:

“I was still
in the dark
perhaps in the night
there was no way to know”

On the literal side, Eudo is in darkness, but he’s deep underground so he doesn’t know if it’s daytime outside. If we take “dark” more metaphorically, “night” may represent a great, w0rld-encompassing darkness (a particularly negative interpretation) or it may indicate a temporary darkness (as nighttime is followed by day, a more positive interpretation), but then again we should note that the darkness of nighttime is not only temporary, but recurring, which makes the previous idea less positive.

But even the previous literal idea holds deeper meanings. If Eudo can be in darkness even when it’s daytime, that demonstrates the complete control his masters hold over him. Day, and night, and the other basic facts of the natural world can be taken to represent foundational truths, hopes or freedoms, which are thought to be unassailable and inalienable, but which the masters have nonetheless destroyed.

But on the other hand, we should note that such foundations as daytime-nighttime are only destroyed for Eudo personally. The states still exist, somewhere in the world, and that should tell us that the masters are not, in fact, all-powerful, regardless of how they may seem at the present moment. We may speculate that Eudo will someday escape to the world above, and in fact that is exactly what he does, eventually, though he finds the literal, physical escape much easier that the metaphorical, emotional escape (which takes many more years of effort).

“My heart beat too fast
discerning its own presence
Be still, I begged
begone”

“My heart”, of course, has both literal and metaphorical meanings. Literally, Eudo is suffering from an over-rapid heartrate, and resulting palpitations (“discerning its own presence”, basically). This is drawn from personal experience; I long suffered from (and to some extent, still suffer from) a stress disorder that would give me palpitations (among many other symptoms, such as dizziness). So there we have another literal interpretation with deeper meaning: a physical heart beating too fast indicates emotional strain, fear, etc., in particular because Eudo isn’t exercising, but merely lying down. In any case, “Be still” would count as Eudo silently trying to lower his heart rate, and probably trying to lessen the associated despair etc.

On the metaphorical side, “heart” may here mean one’s passions, dreams and true desires. If so, then Eudo’s heart beats too fast in the sense that he has a great desire to be free, however the present situation (both in the literal moment and the more general sense) does not allow him any freedom, and this creates a conflict. “Be still” would count as Eudo trying to ignore the incredible gap between what he dreams for and what he has.

begone” may be interpreted as a simple extension of “Be still“, but it may also refer to suicide. On the literal side, if his heart completely stops, Eudo dies. On the metaphorical side, if he silences his own inner passions he will become an mindless drone, a slave of the Federation.

“my heart refused
me”

There’s a reason “me” is on a separate line. It’s for emphasis. One’s heart, literal or (especially) metaphorical, is at one’s core. It’s one thing if your heart refuses some external influence, but if you heart refuses you, that’s a sign of tremendous inner conflict, which is what Eudo is experiencing. There’s also guilt in there, because he realizes he has internalized the (metaphorical) poison of his masters; he is ordering himself around just as they would order him around.

“I could not sleep
and so I stared
into an endless waking
chasm”

The area around him is utterly dark, and so it seems like a “chasm”. “waking” then simply refers to the fact that Eudo is awake; he’s having trouble falling asleep.

Alternatively, and playing with the metaphorical darkness we mentioned earlier, “chasm” may refer to despair etc.. In that case, the “endless waking” is not the here-and-now of Eudo’s insomnia, but rather it refers to Eudo’s life. Every day, when he is awake and walking around and whatever, all of that is like a chasm, because it is empty of meaning of joy.

“In dreams, at least, something is
I dearly wished for dreaming”

Literal: He can’t see anything right now; everything is blank and boring. He wants to fall asleep so he can dream.

Metaphorical: In the better life that he desires, there is meaning and happiness and freedom. He dearly wishes for this better life, and/or (if we use the metaphorical interpretation of “heart” earlier) he regrets his previous “be still” comment and dearly wishes to continue to dream, to hold on to his passions.

“but as before
would be again
the chasm was my only ken”

See the previous chasm bit for interpretations.

“My only sky
was made of stone”

Literal: The ceiling is made of stone.

Expanded Literal: Every day, wherever he goes, the ceiling is made of stone

Metaphorical: He has no freedom. When there are no limits, people like to say “the sky’s the limit”. Except a sky made of stone is quite limiting indeed, isn’t it?

“the stars themselves
were dim or bright
according to
the Masters’ whim”

Literal: The stone walls have “lights” in them, which glow by magic, and gain or lose luminosity according to the magic of the masters.

Metaphorical: The masters control everything. Even the stars have been conquered.

I like the use of the plural possessive “Masters’”. There are many masters, but they appear to act with a single mind.

“and I lay there, alone”

Literal: No one else is in the room

Metaphorical: No one understands him, or cares about him.

Commentary: Old Song

Commentary on Old Song

This is actually a song. You can hear me sing it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92upbi8Mo2I

It’s a little hard to record the tune in book format (though I could use musical notation), so I only included the lyrics. I mirrored my feelings about this by having Eudo remark about his inability to record the tune. (Furthermore, since I wasn’t sure what to name the piece, I decided that Eudo had forgotten the title). It’s an interesting thought that, within the fiction, someone might read these words and then encounter the tune somewhere else. Similarly, outside the fiction, the same thing can happen.

The song was intended to ambiguous. The idea is that its original (fictional) authors found it peaceful, but from Eudo’s perspective it is a mixture of peace and horror.

Any references to being “by the sea” or “in the forest” would obviously pose a great contrast to Eudo’s existence during the Second Lichaf. “Calling to thee” may imply finding and meeting someone, or it may imply an endless, repetitive calling that reaches no one, because no one is there. This reflects back on the three “I” lines in the beginning; is it three separate speakers, or is it one person at different times and places, always alone no matter how far he travels?

“I tremble / I wonder” could be trembling in awe at the greatness of nature etc., or it could be simply trembling from cold or fear, or both. “Pathways asunder go I” could be seen in the spirit of freedom and self-determination, or it could imply being lost, and lonely.

“Dreams” could refer to sleeping, or to greater goals. In “though morning be waking / what seems to be their lullaby”, the second line may be the object of the verb “waking”, or it may be a separate question.

“A walker of ages Though sages no more me can tell / farewell” may mean that I am a walker of ages, but sages don’t know anymore about me than that. The next part would thus be the speaker saying “farewell” to cages (literal or metaphorical), declaring his independence. Or the part about sages may be part of the following lines: “fawell / to all of the cages / in which all the others may dwell”, which would imply that the sages cannot say “farewell” to, or depart from, the cages that we all inhabit. In other words, it would mean that even the wisest are trapped by coercion and conformity.

“I breathe in each moment” could mean “during each moment, I breathe”, or it could mean “I breathe in each moment”, taking the moment inside oneself. “for time be eternal / I shall carry on” doesn’t say whether this eternal time is something to be glad about.

The next stanza talks about hope, but the final line of that stanza is a possible subversion: “can be killed by no craft that we know“. What about craft that we don’t know? In particular, things that the original authors of the song had not experienced, such as incarceration in Morentoff.

Blog: Up for Sale

Recently I realized that, because this book is a collection of short stories and poems, it doesn’t need to be “done” in order to be readable. So it’s up for sale now. First Edition, 34,184 words. I hope you like it.

Here it is.

Pacing

Pacing

A Tale of the Second Lichaf
Of the Life of Eudo the Wanderer

I walked the halls of Morentoff, trying to escape.

I would tell you that I ran, like the heroes of the stories I had heard in my childhood. Running, fighting, shouting with defiance. A secret plan. A daring move. A sudden turn. Hurrying through hidden passageways, pursued by a thousand soldiers, dashing to the exit. Rescuing others, along the way. And never doubting, never faltering. For a true hero knows what he is.

Yes, I would tell you that I ran, but I was no storybook hero. I walked, quiet and alone, and never did I leave the city.

I walked as if I was going somewhere. I walked quickly, to avoid attention. For if anyone thought I was lost, they would speak to me, and then they might surmise the truth.

Walking was just a means of escape. A way to avoid the others.

There were no soldiers to pursue me. For wherever I went, there were sorcerers already there. Or, if I did find an empty space, I could not trust it to remain empty forever. I used my time as best I could. I would talk with myself, gesturing feverishly with my arms. But I did not actually speak, except perhaps in whisper. I could not risk that others might hear. Sometimes, while I gestured, some other person would appear suddenly from another room, and very quickly I would stop, and turn my head away, and walk elsewhere, all to hide my thoughts. I became very skilled at this, in time.

In all my walking, I never found an exit. I dreamed of someday leaving the city, but the passing days and years dulled my hopes.

The only way to escape from Morentoff…was to escape to Morentoff.

So I escaped then, in a matter of speaking. One tiny fragment of my soul found some freedom, as I paced the halls for as long as I could, until I was ordered someplace in particular.

But wherever I went, wherever I walked, the echoes of my footsteps were unending.

I Did Not Die

I Did Not Die

A Tale of the Third Lichaf
Of the Life of Eudo the Wanderer

But stay awhile, O listener
And listen for a spell
For though my time runs short with you
There is much more to tell

I did not die upon the night
My skin turned specter-gray
I journeyed forth away from fear
And onward to the day

And though I do not know the truth
And questions plague me still
The Federation does not own
My heart, or mind, or will

So I will wander ‘cross the land
And I will see the sea
And I will search for righteousness
While still remaining free

I am Eudo the Wanderer
Journey now with me

Blog: 3-month gap

Hey everybody.

I’ve just published Fever Dream. It’s admittedly short, but it does break the 3-month total-lack-of-posting since One-Third There.

Thanks for waiting, and I’m sorry for the wait. More Eudo is on the way.

Fever Dream

Fever Dream

A Tale of the Third Lichaf
Of the Life of Eudo the Wanderer

The great red rolling sun, dizzy from travels and drunken with power, splintered and crashed amidst the world I, as yet ungrounded, was thrown upward in the torrent, flying to the starry sky, filled with gleeful falling blades of glass As though the ocean wept, the water followed, the taste of salt preceding the wave and I, though frightened, fought to see more clearly, for my eyes closed in mischievous ways and they would not allow me sight.

It was dark then, and I was with friends, fellow creatures burrowing in the earth and I was one with them and all was good until there was a shouting “GO!” and I confused asked “to where?” but already I was gone and dead and gone and dead again and I thought “this is not right, I see this here, this is not so-

the dream was very strange said the man as his limbs drifted gently Away and “Yes” said I and I ran through halls of the walls of the palace, and I could not stop even though I tried but soon I ran so fast that there was nothing left but darkness still.

And then there was Nothing, and I was very afraid that I would remain inside the Nothing forever.

The great red rolling sun returned, holding the moon and the world was like lightning, and voices were shouting shouting, so much shouting though I begged them to stop…

I awoke.  I felt the world’s full realness. The dream disappeared, lingering only in memory.  The fever had subsided. I saw then that the dream had been little more than nonsense; a furious cascade of feelings and thoughts, bearing precious little meaning that I could perceive.

I looked to the horizon, and thought darkly: the world is not so different.

(woah-oh, livin’ on a prayer…)
(it’s a song)

With the addition of my latest story, Meleki, the word count has advanced to (drumroll please) 35,107

This means that, if we use the abitrary value of 100,000 words as my desired length, I have finally passed the one-third mark on this book! Yay!

(Quick-thinking readers may note that I actually passed the 33,333 mark with an earlier story, but I didn’t run a wordcount until just now. Even quicker-thinking readers may note that my count is a little high. That’s because it includes a couple pages of acknowledgments and copyright notices)

So, yeah, I’m feeling good about that. There was like 8 days of gap before this latest story, and the lack of progress was starting to mess with me. But I feel better now, sortof exhausted and happy at the same time.

Of course, I’m still thinking about my other goal, which was to reach 100,000 words by April 1st. (No, that’s not an April Fool’s Day joke. That’s just the day I arrive in Japan.) By current statistics…I’m not even close. If I write a thousand words a day from here on…I’ll reach 75,000 words. And thus far I haven’t managed a consistent thousand words per day. So if I write two thousand per day…

*sigh*

I don’t know, whatever. I’m just gonna keep making progress, and try not to worry about it.

I’ll be alright.

Meleki

Meleki

A Tale of the Fourth Lichaf
Of the Life of Eudo the Wanderer

Those who have never seen the Siwali Desert often assume that it is empty. A desert, they think, is nothing but large, hot region of sand. Admittedly, such places do exist. But there are also plants in the desert, and a few forms of animal life. There are people in the desert, as well. But one popular notion rings true: water is precious here.

With patient focus, the Naja man sharpened his sword against the rock. The rock was three feet tall, with the symbol of Naja painted on its side, marking the space behind it as the Naja homeland. By sharpening here, instead of elsewhere, the man reaffirmed his tribal loyalty. To his back lay a Naja encampment. To the west lay a Rodi encampment, with a similar stone marker on its eastern border where, no doubt, similar men sharpened similar swords. To the north-northwest lay a oasis, which held rocks without symbols, and space without people. The oasis was lush, at least by desert standards. It held many kinds of plants, and insects. And among these there was water, bubbling up from an underground spring. The Naja man stopped for a moment, and stared in that direction. Then he returned to the sword.

The tribes of Siwali are not nearly so primitive as is popularly believed. Their laws, though typically unwritten, are well-known and well-followed. The oasis in question was considered a meleki, an unclaimed region, formally belonging to no one. Tradition held that melekis were the property of the impoverished. If a tribe, for whatever reason, was forced from its homeland, it held the right to travel to the nearest meleki and live there. If it became possible to return home, the tribe was no longer considered impoverished, and therefore it would need to either abandon the meliek, or defend it by force.

The previous inhabitants had been people of the Veln tribe. But, after 2 years of exile, they had finally returned to their homeland. This was a happy occasion for the Veln, but it meant only bloodshed for the neighboring Naja and Rodi. They both desired the oasis, and they were far too proud to share.  Soon, both tribes would march on the meleki, and both of them would surely leave corpses, but only one would mark its symbol on the rocks.

I stood in the distance, eying them both. How strange, I thought, that a practice steeped in charity could lead to violence. I turned South, intending to leave them be. Strange indeed. If there were no oasis, then all would be satisfied; neither is desperate for water, they only insist on having more of it than their neighbors. Or, if there were another needy tribe, then it could claim the oasis, and all would be satisfied. But there is none. A strange thought occurred, and I stopped. I looked back towards the oasis.

As the sun approached the horizon, both tribes began marching. With time, they grew close to each other, but they did not turn to fight. Neither would fight, until they had crossed the meleki’s borders. They were like two forces of the same army, marching on the same point. But the only point they agreed on was mutual distrust. That, and the laws of Siwali.

I had no love of public speaking, but there was no way to avoid it.

“Halt!” I cried. For I had gone ahead of them, and hidden among the trees.

I stepped forward and held up my hands. “I claim this land under the laws of Siwali! I forbid violence of any kind.”

They stopped. A claim to the laws was a serious matter. If my claim were found valid, they would listen. If not, they would surely kill me. And then they would kill each other.

The Rodi leader responded first. “Who are you to lay claim under the laws?”

“I am Eudo the Wanderer”

There was a murmur among both groups. I produced shinons to demonstrate my power, not as a threat (for they could have killed me anyway), but as proof of my identity. They could see my skin, too. They knew I was telling the truth.

“I have heard of you, Eudo. But you are not Siwali, you belong to no tribe.”

“My tribe is the Geo Mandre.” I did not show it, but it hurt to mention the name.

The Naja leader spoke. “Geomar is not part of the desert. The Geo Mandre have never lived by our laws.”

There was a murmur of agreement. I had feared he might bring that up.

“But we have never harmed you,” I replied, “nor your brothers, nor any other people in all the world.”

“I understand, and you have my sympathy, but-”

I barked fiercely. “We have suffered enough! We have no home! Would you deny us even the meleki? This is the law of Siwali: that any tribe, if it be driven from its home, shall have the right to choose a meleki and settle there until the danger has passed. Tribesmen, show me your honor!”

There was some feeling of shock. I was insulting them, but it was the only way to persuade them.

The Rodi leader spoke again. “You are only one man,” he said, “you are not a tribe.”

“Such is the magnitude of our suffering!” I snapped, “such is the greatness of our need!”

There was a long silence. I was near tears.

“My people, if they yet live at all, are few and scattered and homeless. I beg you, grant us refuge! I ask for no charity from either tribe; I ask only for the meleki!”

I fell to my knees and cried; I had not expected to be so passionate. I was embarrassed, in a way. Somehow I felt it was unfitting to weep.

Apart from myself, all was silent. All of them watched me; no one moved. Finally, the Naja leader stepped forward.

“I grant it to you.”

And it was done. The Rodi quickly agreed. The tribesmen sheathed their weapons, and marched back to their encampments, in the South.

I sat upon the ground, with a strange feeling of exhaustion and bewilderment. Perhaps the act of telling others had made my sorrow fresh again.

I watched the tribesmen go. Among these, as it is among most, each person had many others to call his own. Everyone had a tribe.

This is the order of the world
That the flowers be with flowers
And the birds be with the birds
And the scorpions with kin
And men, too, shall have their place among men

I looked at the oasis, at my “tribe”. There was no one, of course. No one but me.

I wondered if the tribesmen would ever realize the truth. I had only acted to prevent bloodshed. I personally did not need the meleki, and I doubted that my people would need it either.

The dead do not need much.

But still, I thought, we have a meleki. I suppose that means something.

And in that thought, I found a little speck of happiness. We had a haven now. We had a home.

I painted our symbol on the side of a rock, as the sun disappeared in the west.

I Lay Awake in Morentoff

I Lay Awake in Morentoff

A Tale of the Second Lichaf
Of the Life of Eudo the Wanderer

I was still
in the dark
perhaps in the night
there was no way to know

My heart beat too fast
discerning its own presence
Be still, I begged
begone

my heart refused
me
I could not sleep
and so I stared
into an endless waking
chasm

In dreams, at least, something is
I dearly wished for dreaming

but as before
would be again
the chasm was my only ken

My only sky
was made of stone

the stars themselves
were dim or bright
according to
the Masters’ whim

and I lay there, alone

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