The Four Chambers of Xiao-tep -- The Fourth Chamber

"To Break Sorrow"

I was born without a fourth chamber. I have no right ventricle. No matter how I try to escape it, this is who I am.

Make no mistake: no matter how much I may have been shipped from the factory as damaged goods, my heart fills with love all the same. Where there is nothingness exists love for what I do, for what I write, for Xiao-tep and Comet Fox and Stavros and Led and every character I right. They are, after all, most times inspired by some person I've known, some incident I've witnessed.

Xiao-tep will enter a chamber of nothingness soon. A chamber he must fill. And he intends to fill it with love for the world.

This will be Xiao-tep's last, greatest struggle. I can only hope I do justice by him.

Next week will see me posting Act I of "Broken Sorrows"... the beginning of the new The Children of Gods novel! :)

"Father can you hear me?
How have I let you down?
I curse the day that I was born
And all the sorrow in this world"
~ Bad Religion, "Sorrow"

The Four Chambers of Xiao-tep -- The Third Chamber

"The Sorrows of Young Stavros"

Xiao-tep and Stavros will become intimate friends in the forthcoming novel as they struggle with similar moral implications. Xiao-tep will have killed once more by the time Stavros and he are together and renounced battle altogether.

"I would help you if I could," says Xiao-tep, "but I fear my aiding you will lead me into battle and that is a country I no longer wish to reside in."

Stavros will bow his head, somewhat shamefully but ever thoughtfully.

"The battle will come and the blood to be let loose I fear shall drown the world," Stavros will say. "I am with you, friend Xiao-tep, in your lamentation for what is to come. I fear the sorrows filling the world, drowning out the cries of love and devotion. I fear the world will choke on its own fluids and the hatred that has been released by our old ally, Zom Loa. I feel your concern in taking life. I've thought on the matter at length, perhaps not as you have, but I have given it thought all the same. And the conclusion I come to is always the same: If our enemy is not put down the world will continue to suffer until all is destroyed the the very walls of Heaven shake with fear. In this I have made my decision to fight. I must fight. I must. I can do nothing else. I am no god that can bring light and love to the world. I am a mere rat."

At this Stavros will look to Xiao-tep and ask, "What say you of me?"

And Xiao-tep will take great care to shape his thoughts into words. "Though I am a god, I know not the destinies laid out before others by The Cosmos more than I know my own. If I am to judge you or any other, I would do so based upon your actions and the will of your heart. And though I may never again raise a blade or my voice against another, perhaps The Cosmos would have you do otherwise.

"I ask you, should you go to fight, would you think it the most righteous thing for you to do?"

Stavros will nod and promptly answer, "It would."

"Then it is what you must do, for it is likely your destiny to be the meter of justice in the world. I cannot tell you.

"But as for me, worry not, Stavros the Red. For you have proven yourself a creature of decency and truly a fine friend. It has been my honor to know you in my lifetime."

And Stavros will smile.

Big Things Happening Lately

As I write this it's 6AM. I've been up at least 30 minutes. There's a lot on my plate for today. There's been a lot on my plate as of late in general.

Next month (May) I'll be publishing Issue #14 of my ezine. I'll also be redesigning and upgrading the website.

After being on hiatus for a week or so I'm back to typing up the latest novel, Silent Nights.

I'm hoping to get the novels back out to publishers soon. It's been six years and I've yet to sell anything. At all. That's bogging me down a bit, but I'm trying to push through it. It just seems unreasonably ridiculous to me.

Today I hope to type up more of Silent Nights and practice on the new resonator. A week ago I got a new Rogue Spider Resonator. It's a purdy guitar (pictured below). It took me four years to save up for and I'm enjoying it. Maybe one day I'll post a video of me playing it on YouTube. We'll see.

Have a good weekend, folks. Hopefully I'll be back to more substantial posts next week.

~ Charles

Boring Blog #1063

I've had quite the eventful week, leaving me panicking and without a decent blog for today. I won't bore you with the details, but instead present you with a funny Iron Man vs Bruce Lee video.

Enjoy.

"As Slowly the Petals Fall" Chamber Two of The Four Chambers of Xiao-tep

I've had quite the difficult time with doctors as of late. My thoughts
are disjointed tonight. I can't think clearly enough for prose, yet
felt the need to write. As a result, I sat down and wrote a 4-page poem
in my journal. It's been a while since I've written any poetry. I
present it here to you now as Chapter Two of "The Four Chambers of
Xiao-tep". It has a similar vibe as some of the matters Xiao-tep will
be dealing with in the forthcoming novel.

Enjoy.

"As Slowly the Petals Fall"
(c) 2009 by Charles Shaver. All rights reserved.

Doors closed on him
Windows shut
The world closed in on him
Fire burned his belly
Viscous gel filled his lungs
He was nothing
No more
Yet everything to
Everyone
Death closed in on him
A flower at the precipice
Of blooming
Bloomed
Fading now
Dying
Never so close to death
Never so alive
Until heat subsides
His belly quelled
Windows open
Doors flung wide
Perception expanded into brilliant white light
Until all can be seen
All appears as one
At once
And he, everything
The machine slowed
Needles slipped out
With a pat on his back sent
On his way
Walking through shadows
Of valleys
Of death
Alive, but not
Abnormal, but not
Unwanted, but not
Wanting the sun to caress his face
To chase smiles
With friends
Loved ones
True families
Across fields
Plains
To enjoy clouds
Floating
Behind kites
In the
Sky
But no sky exists
Stolen
It's a picture in books
A picture through panes
A myth in tales
No sun will touch him
No rain will come through
Fluorescent cages
He knows best
The machines
Of war
Of madness
Of medicine
Of Man
Machines
Living inside
Machines
And he
Living inside
Them
How long?
Not long
For the arms of
Love
And the rays of
The sun
Bend
Towards his heart
How long?
Forever
If only one would let
Loose his voice
Unshackle the machines
Let sun and life and kites
In
But for how long?
Not nearly long enough
For the hug of a friend
The kiss of a girl
The gentle touch of a loved one
As petals of a bloom
As the sun of the sky
Will fade from its golden glory
All he can hope
All he can wish
All he can pray for
As he walks through shadows
Of valleys
Of hospital halls
Is that he has loved them all enough
He has loved the world to his fullest breadth
He has loved
And he has loved
But is it enough?
Lobby now, waiting
Wall clock, ticking
Woman nearby, puking
His life
And he wonders
Is it enough?
As slowly the petals fall

The Four Chambers of Xiao-tep -- The First Chamber

I've been meditating upon a lot of things lately. Counted amongst those things is the next Xiao-tep tale. As I've said elsewhere, this is be the final The Children of Gods novel wherein Xiao-tep will be featured as a prominent character. He will evolve quite a bit, starting fairly early on in the novel. There have always been hints of Morihei Ueshiba-sensei within Xiao-tep and that should become immensely clear within this forthcoming novel. For those not in the know, Morihei Ueshiba was a master martial artist and founder of Aikido. It is said he had a moment of discovery and enlightenment one day wherein he came to understand that martial arts is not about fighting, but mastery of self so one may become centered and, ultimately, learn to love the world.

I would not compare myself to such an exalted sensei as Morihei Ueshiba, but my meditations have been similarly inclined as his thoughts.

I've made quite a few good friends in a very short period of time lately. Each has come forward to express care, concern and friendship to me in intimate ways -- from saying they don't want to ever lose me to simply hugging me whenever they've seen me. It's a beautiful thing to have friends.

I'll also be in California in just about 28 weeks. I'll see some friends I've not seen in 4 years; some I've not seen in 7 years; and a couple I've not seen in something like 14 years. I'm looking forward to seeing them all, to checking in with them in person, to sharing time and smiles together, to telling them I love them.

I've found my center recently in the simple statement I made within the personal essay titled "I Am My Pen". Now my task in life is shifting towards simply loving the world.

Xiao-tep will soon do the same.

Takin' Care of Business

I'm taking this week off. Last week was pretty rough on me. Actually, March has been pretty rough on me. I'm a 'lil afraid of getting burnt out on writing so last Sunday I decided not to write this week, but to take this week off. This includes not blogging anything major. Therefore, I'm blogging this week a recap of my future plans for writing. Here they are:

1.) Finish typing up the latest science fiction novel, Silent Night, in March

2) Perhaps start working on a script in March

3.) Begin writing the next fantasy wuxia The Children of Gods novel in April

4) Publish Issue #14 of If - E - Zine(tm) on May 13th.

5) Continue to work on the fantasy wuxia novel

6.) Finish the fantasy wuxia novel in October

That's it for now.

Love, peace and respect.

~ Charles

P.S.: I also now have ANOTHER Twitter account. I'll try actually using this one. To tell you the truth: I can't stand Twitter, but it provides me with more coverage. Check it out:

http://twitter.com/charlesshaver

Confessions of a Demon

I'm scared of what's wrong with me. I don't know why. I've walked through so much crap without scathing, without blinking, without hesitation and with furious purpose. But now, with blood tests showing oxygen low and red blood cells high, I'm worried.

Fear is death. I'm running. "Heart and lung failure" is something I've known was possible all my life. But now that I've heard it distinctly, directly, not just possibly, I am running, afraid. What does one write about when afraid? Weakness, I suppose. I don't think I'm afraid of appearing weak in front of others. I'm simply afraid of being weak in any respect. Weakness, for me, is not shortcomings of character or moral obligations; but rather an incapacity to exercise influence over one's current condition. That's me now. If my house is dirty, I clean it. If my car is leaking transmission fluid, I replace a gasket. But what do I do when my heart and lungs may be failing?

I guess, so far, I run. I'm two weeks out from finding a solution or ultimate cause. I'm two weeks out from being able to know what to do. I've two weeks yet of weakness. And I hate it.

I think it's raining.

I've got a ton of typing to do.

Too many bills are piling up this month.

I envy Henry Miller and his ability to explore every avenue with every man, woman and bottle that comes his way without regard or concern to the aftermath. Of course, I'm not finished with Tropic of Cancer. Of course, he didn't have medical insurance. Of course, he wasn't weak.

Ir perhaps he was. He speaks of weakness a great deal. Weakness and impatience. But he writes with such strength in voice, I hardly notice. Perhaps he, like me, is strongest with words. Perhaps he's all too good a liar.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

It's seven in the morning and I'm writing about fear. I'm either an incredible writer, or an incredible coward.

Leave me alone.

Watching My Life in Something Like High-Speed Slow-Motion

Dreamed of the Watchmen last night. Saw the movie at midnight. I was pleased with it. I think most people might be. Everything is a blur right now. Watchmen. Medicine. Waking. Trashmen outside roaring through the neighborhood. I'm sick without the luxury of lying in bed. Doctors found low oxygen in me. My heart and lungs may be failing, finally. I have oxygen tanks strewn about the house. I can't hear in my left ear. Mucinex box on the floor beside me. Ultrasound Monday. Lung specialist Wednesday. Hematologist two weeks from Monday. Cardiologist two weeks from Wednesday. Spent 4.5 hours in doctors offices last Friday. Came home to friends that stayed until after I left. Had a class Saturday out in Otisville that started at 8 AM. I was out the door before 7. Class didn't break for lunch until 2:30. Class was over at 6 PM. Saw my niece. Got picked up. Went to eat. Didn't get home until after midnight. I'm still recovering. Went downtown yesterday. It's a week later now and it's all a blur. Like watching my life outside of myself in something like high-speed slow-motion.

Toby wants a script. Brandon wants a script. I want a script. I want to type up more of Silent Nights today. I won't. I want to sell something and pay off a bill. I won't. Not any time soon. Today I'll watch TV, maybe play some video games. I should get back to Fallout 3, but I won't. Too much thought. Too much thinking. Will most likely play Forza 2 all day instead. Mindless.

Making friends recently. Making friends makes me want to write. Making friends makes me realize the use of making friends. Friends are escape. Escape from self. From reality. From troubles. Friends are a good movie. An enjoyable distraction. "Human coupling", as Dr. Manhattan would say. I don't want to run from myself with these friends, with any friends. I want reassurance. I want love. I want to love and be loved. I could live in squalor the rest of my life, but not if JoJo's at my side. I write for her. I write to get us out of here, out of debt. Not that our debt is immense by most standards, but still. Though she is still my purpose, there are others. Come gather 'round friends, wherever you roam. Let me tell you a story. A good story well told has incredible value. Every day the streets of the cities and towns and dirty villages across the globe play out tales never to be told. Some are good. Some horribly boring and unsatisfying. I am a mythmaker. But I recognize my smallness in the face of the universe. I tell true tales. My mind cannot compete. Everything I write has some depth of reality in it. Silent Nights, for instance, draws from a conversation I had more than a decade ago, a conversation about God. But not everything within is reality. Within us. Within my stories. Within my life. I am delusional about events in my life. Mediocre roles play out as poignant moments in my head. We are our myths.

I love through my words. It's all I know. They are the footprints I'll leave behind. When humanity is at the brink of its destruction, my words will call out through time and space and say, "We were here. And though we've hurt one another immensely, it was largely good. Let me tell you a story."

I want my words to love as I have and will love. I want my words to live as I have and will live. I want my friends not for escape. I want friends for reflections. For ruminations. For purpose.

"The role of the artist I now understood as that of revealing through the world-surfaces the implicit forms of the soul, and the great agent to assist the artist was the myth." -- Jospeh Campbell

Today I will not write. I must rest. But tomorrow will be a new day.

A Denouement of the Now and the Near-Future

It's an odd time for me now. I'm making new friends, relearning a love
for humanity. I've been so closed off for so long. I've needed the time
away, the time to reflect and find myself. I'm convinced that had I
continued as I had been living in California 8+ years ago I would have
made a big, bright impact on many lives, but would now be dead. I would
have burnt out and died. In part due to the fact I was purposely trying
to slowly kill myself, in part that no sane or healthy person could
possibly carry on the lifestyle like I was without repercussions.

I'm nearing completion of the third novel. I suspect I'll be done some
time tomorrow. This leads me to think about the next one I'll write. Of
course, I have to concentrate on selling these things, as well. But
today I thought I might return, finally, to Joyride Thru Death Valley
-- a novel I started in 2001; last wrote for in 2004-5; and will be my
most personal novel and closest to an autobiography I may ever come to
writing. Joyride will be to me perhaps what Dandelion Wine is to
Bradbury or Fear & Loathing to Hunter S. Thompson. Those are pretty
big icons to compare myself to, I know. I don't mean to make that
comparison, but rather the import of their related novels.

I'll definitely be writing the third installment of the Xiao-tep tales this year. Perhaps this Summer.

But for now I have to finish the denouement for the current novel.

Wish me luck.

With much love and respect,

~ Charles

Watch the Skies!

From Turner Classic Movies. It's a great documentary with some great names speaking about science fiction.

Shaolin Master Killer

I'm doing a last minute post today. I've been thinking a lot about the next series of wuxia tales I want to do. In connection with that, here's the trailer for the Shaw Brothers' Shaolin Master Killer.