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The Story of James Curtis Williams

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The diary of James Curtis Williams: Inaugural entry.

Where should this all begin other than the logical place.. the beginning.

Just a reminder, I'm not sure where to start or how to do this but i suppose that the only way ill learn is by trying. That is what Krist is always saying in the journals. I suppose the purpose of one of these is to record my life so i can show it to people. I probably should talk about where and when i grew up to begin with shouldn't I?

I was born on this worthless lump of rock called Earth, most of you should know it, you live here after all.

I don't know when i was born. No one knows when now is. I guess that's because at one point everyone had a long holiday and forgot to care what the day was. Eventually everyone just forgot. Such a loss wasn't a big one. Time off was blissful yet life ran perfectly fine.

Until I was old enough to be the town drunk and scoundrel i had a quite pleasant life admiring the women of the town. By then women's fashion was basically where women wore skin coloured coverings for their groin which clearly stood out from their nowhere near skin coloured skin. They would wear other “translucent” clothing according to their faction.(i shall explain that later) which they would buy from their own personal shops.

Shopping is a convenient experience. Whatever you desire appears in your own personal shop, you just have to do the appropriate amount of labor before hand. As the economy is fully automated this is actual simulated childbirth type labor so theft has become commonplace.

Such things as slave outfits are considered the chicest of the chic, only worn by people who are fortunate enough to have someone go through labor for them. Ironically some time ago such garments were forced upon people to do actual “slave duty”. The concept is unimaginable, how far removed the people who wear such clothes now are from the people who actually were forced to enact another's whim.

As far as male fashion flannel shirts are in with birkas made of denim so commonplace on men, who now wear their hair as long as women do short with extreme cases where women will have their hair plucked daily to remove any sign of hair on their heads, although craving to have as much on their bodies as humanly possible.

Children are seen fornicating in the street, with their parents too busy fornicating with other people to notice with the occasional dog running by urinating on them to stop as if to say “We're not that bad, and we're animals. You call that civilized?” giving them the urge to go and clean themselves, never to recognise each other again. A friend is someone you haven't slept with yet, but you see them occasionally.

Anyone with a musical or dramatic talent is hailed as an icon and sets fashion standards appropriate to that faction of creative entertainment. These tend to be all variations of the same theme, until someone gifted comes up with something new then suddenly that is what everyone else is doing. Reading isn't outlawed, but is considered a pastime for the old, meaning no one learns anything about the past, consequently giving them no chance to learn from it.

Occasionally an anomaly comes up, a super gifted child who can be original and has both creative and anilitical ability choosing the path of enlightenment where the child reads and writes and so forth, setting the general theme of entertainment of the decade. Everyone else copies and uses the droplets of creativity they have, unstimulated by lack of use to make it mildly different. Such prodigies are recorded as that. They usually kill themselves around age 30, sometimes earlier. These prodigies are all thought to be distantly related according to the Old People. It has been said that each prodigy glows in the dark but only other prodigies can see it. I have never seen a prodigy so i wouldn't know. My mother tells me my father was one. I don't know his name.

For some reason i was resented by almost everyone. no one would explain why but i personally think it was because I liked things better the way they used to be, despite how few knew what that was. I quite like the era known as the 1960's where civilisation seemed to of found it's peak.

People respected each other, and themselves. Some of the greatest songs of all time were written then and man had the technological ability to send someone to the moon. Going to the moon is easy, almost fully automated now. I think it takes away from the experience personally. We cared about art and we shared it, using drugs to heighten the experience but sparingly enough for it to be completely reasonable making sure the drug was enhancing the experience, not the experience enhancing the drug. People had a sense of purpose, all of them, and it wasn't just to screw as many people as possible and have as much fun as we could while doing it.

In any case, I must depart from my writings, I have a meeting I have to go to.

James got up from the park bench, took his near new jet black diary from the table and placed it in his bag. This bag was old, one he found and fixed, made from something that resembled carpet that was for some unknown reason in a shoebox in a disused house he lived in.

Despite it's ill repair this house was wonderful. It had writings of a number of things, books on 20th century achievement, information about the workings of something called a computer, which quite possibly could have been sitting beside him as he read and slept. His favourite room in the house had as far as literature biographies of a boy called Harry Potter, several copies of a holy book called “the bible” and the biography of a man by the name Dirk Pitt. Mr Pitt was amazing in James's eye, a hero by his standards, brilliant and able with women who didn't give themselves away to any passing stranger.

This house where he lived and found all this wonderful material was the house the brotherhood met. Th brotherhood of bastards was a secret society within the factions of people driven by music and fornication who were against the excessive sexual freedom of all the people to the detriment of creativity and progress. These were big words for people but they were educated in their use and meaning by a book called a “dictionary”.

The boys chose “brotherhood of bastards” as a name initially as they began as a group of four bastard boys, discussing their distaste for society in the disused house James considered home. James found a book about the Freemasons handwritten and decided this was a good cornerstone to start from. Over time the boys started meeting other people who felt the same way.

Unlike the Freemasons though they let girls join as they were able to contribute equally, by both their work ethic concerning the cleaning effort and their desire to contribute to the ideas. In fact it was one of the girls who found a box of handwritten books about things such as science, English and more importantly history. The books pertaining to history was an account of time speaking of civilizations so different and fantastical and people within them so much more so that it seemed almost beyond belief. The meetings the brotherhood held involved readings from these books, discussions upon their content and brief musical performances, concluding with lunch.

Having thought about this, and realizing that he would be late he started running, he was good at this. Not brilliant like those in the record books but still fast enough to be called fast. Running home was fun, but the only feeling better than running that James could think of was playing Bass. He felt he could share deep feelings with people without a single word just by playing it. He didn't know anyone else who played Bass, except for a couple of people he was teaching who were seemingly hopeless. As far as he knew everyone who was in music who wasn't part of the brotherhood sang, not before setting up a drum machine and occasionally pressing buttons on a keyboard while they were singing. The brotherhood did things differently. He, Michael the drummer and Crystal the guitarist always played, occasionally Ben would play either keyboards or as a second guitarist. Whoever was there would sing, with the words displayed on the wall behind them.

James walked into the door, still thinking about the way life was for him, running meetings and hating almost everyone who didn't go to them, being the only bassist on the planet for all he knew and deciding what to wear. He said to himself “I'll wear black today. A button up shirt with short sleeves, cotton pants, sunglasses and a beret.” Now rushing he dropped his gear, got changed and rushed out to the big room they made when this was only the beginning by knocking down walls in the also derelict house next door. James cleared his throat, walked up to the front where people were waiting, said hello to a few people before everyone fell silent waiting for him to begin.

Jen was sitting there waiting for him to start talking so she could start writing. He cleared his throat again.



Meeting number 487 transcript James - Good morning brothers.. and sisters i might add, we are here today as we always are to be reminded of the way life should be. (cheers) I would like to begin by reading from the history book where it tells us the story of Kurt Cobain. Kurt was born in the year 1967, however long ago that was, in a place called Aberdeen, Washington. He had a fairly uneventful childhood life there. In retrospect he said that he hated almost everyone there because they were idiots. It is said Aberdeen was involved in a big sporting rivalry, wherever that is, where people would damage the other sides property for no other reason except for the contempt for each other and this ingrained rivalry, it was around such people, homophobes these were called that Kurt thought he was gay. In fact he was arrested for graffitting a pro gay slogan on a wall. Eventually he met bassist Krist Novoselic who he started a band with. The band changed drummers and names eventually settling on the name Nirvana and a drummer called Dave Grohl. They went on to extreme success with a song called “Smells like Teen Spirit” on their second album, “Nevermind” I'd like to play a song by them now called “Rape me” cited to be one of their more controversial songs

“Rape me” by Nirvana is played. Guitar done by Crystal Hall, Bass done by James Williams, Drums done by Michael Morrison.

James- Lets think about what this song means. “Rape me” we're told that rape is the act of forced sexual intercourse, but as he is asking for it it is somewhat contradictory, this is an example of an Oxymoron, essentially a statement that cancels itself out. Tim, Simon, Lewis and I have been thinking about this song all week unsure of it's meaning. We think it's their expression of hate for the act of sex, probably sparked by a rape of a girl to the words of another song of theirs called Polly. I'd like us to go into our groups to discuss this.

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People broke down into their groups ________________________________________________________________________________ Lewis's discussion group Lewis-I agree with James. How about you Ricky? Ricky-I personally don't think the lyrics mean anything, the idea of them i think is to be controversial, thus getting more attention. Lachlan-I also think the lyrics don't mean anything, i think the focus is supposed to be on the music. Catherine-Quite possibly, but remember how horrible the ideas behind the lyrics are. You just can't say such horrible things without meaning to. Ricky-I disagree, i knew people who did it all the time. Catherine- You have a point. Lachlan-He does. In any case, the point behind discussing it is to expose us to new ideas. Doesn't James say “There's no right or wrong in creativity.”? Sam - He does. But James isn't a god you know. Lachlan- Of course not. He's just a revolutionary like the rest of us. He just talks to more people at once. Sam – But that's beside the point. The point is the lyrics behind “Rape Me” may be important and we're here to decide that aren't we? Besides, doesn't it say that to Kurt to music lyrics are secondary? Catherine- You've changed my mind. I'll ask james about that one though. Lewis – So that's a “it doesn't mean anything”, is it? Does anyone have anything else to add? (Brief pause) Lewis – I take that as a no. ________________________________________________________________________________

Lewis's group disbands
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James- Let us have lunch now. End of Transcript


James didn't feel like eating too much. Instead he wrote in his diary.



The diary of James Curtis Williams: Second entry

I miss Alice. It's getting harder and harder finding girls like her, there are so many girls out there, nice and sweet and all, but none of them seem comparable. I still wonder what happened to her, I hate it when i get weak like this. What hope do the others have when I am this way? No-one knew how to challenge my ideas and prove me wrong like she could. I'm not sure if I can say how bad i miss her, all the other girls mean almost nothing to me. Yet how I hate casting them aside, I ask myself, how can i be strong for them and happy for myself without her. Damn her one in a billionness. The pain i feel could kill an elephant I'm sure. No answer there is to this feeling it seems. Given what level most on this place are at i doubt any know of this feeling. I have looked through the books and they suggest nothing to remedy it either. If mum was here she would know i suppose. I won't write about her. It hurts too much. Instead I should write about our plan. In our readings of the Freemasons we discovered that they protected a method the ancient Egyptians knew of going back in time to undo serious mistakes. It is an interesting idea, one i at first thought it was an idea of children, some creative fantasy or some such but it seems to have merit. From what we can tell the book explains how to phonetically make the sounds Egyptians used to do to travel back in time. It also explains what we need for the ritual. We found the necessary obelisk, determined what time the ritual will need to be played out by watching the lunar movements and obtained the appropriate torches to create the boundary in which we shall move. We also stole the required artifacts needed from a disused museum. All we need now is enough sand and salt to complete the ritual. Compared to the rest of the supplies we need this is easy and only a matter of time. It is best to keep this plan as secret as possible as we want to get hopes up in as few people as possible. It makes it harder when i have to hide all this from almost everyone. At this stage we have myself going, as well as Crystal, Michael, Sam, Raymond and Jeff with Jen recording what happens and telling everyone if we succeed. Tim will replace Michael on drums, Doug will replace me on bass, something I'm worried about and Joel will do guitar. Lewis will lead the people. I'm getting worse and worse at this, it's inevitable anyway.

Catherine tapped James on the shoulder. She said “Are you ok?”.

James answered “I'm not sure.” He shut his diary.

Catherine then asked him “So what are you doing?”

Grumbling a little James replied.”I decided to start a diary, seemed like a good idea at the time and it seems like an ok idea now. How about you?”

Catherine said “I was just checking on you, you haven't been yourself lately, are you worrying about something? Or something like that?”

James said”I'm fine, really, you'd be surprised, honestly.”

Catherine responded “It's just that people have been saying things, some people say that Alice running of has turned you gay, some people say she was the only reason why you stayed sane when your mum left you, some people say that you're just plain loosing it and you need to be replaced by someone else a little more reliable. You've been so moody lately, dark and angry. In any case these aren't things good for a leader. Everyone here cares about you, me especially.”

“what's that supposed to mean?”

“That's exactly my point James, you're getting suspicious, always expecting an ulterior motive in everything everyone does. I think at the very least you need a hug”

Their embrace was brief, but hit home exactly what was wrong with James. Still he chose to ignore it, such kind things hurt a little because they brought back memories of loss.

--210.50.143.20 05:05, 31 May 2006 (UTC)

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