Outlines vs. MindMapping

I was asked yesterday if I outlined my stories, and no, I really don't. However I do use the mind-mapping tools extensively.

(Within Me the Other bleeds -- map using FreeMind format)

On my laptop I use Freemind, as well as Mindjet MindManager Pro. On my iPad I am currently using MindMeister, because it was the best one I have found so far.

When I say “best” however, this is a very subjective recommendation.There are some mind-mapping programs out there which are very well made, and easy to use, but I don't like them. Can't really tell you why, but it has something to do with noticing them... I want to focus on my projects and ideas, not the mind-mapping program.

Thought about happiness

I find it increasingly interesting, that at this point in our history our power, technology and ability makes the Greek pantheon look like babes by comparison, and yet our knowledge of happiness is no more than the understanding acquired by Aristotle.

Nocturne

-- From Sleeping with Nefarious Intent

As your nocturnal neighbor,
I slide next to you in Winter,
whispering across your breath,
the South Wind's wildest words.
When dawn warms the
window glass, and
marmalade flame transverse
the ceiling, I carefully
caress your lips with
thinly sliced strawberry,
and mango until you smell
the fresh roast brewing
in the kitchen and are ready to brace
against the cold tile floor
and shower steam.
As you are now,
stretched in graceful
recline, I see illusion,
projected on the silk
of your skin by
my mind; a rendering
in my image.
I stare to
burn my eyes,
to go blind,
so I can see your-self,
not my after-image.
My what-you-ought-to-be's
are tangled in your hair,
my wishes constrict your hips
bruising what is you.
It is difficult
to see with eyes
unclouded by wish
and ought-to's.
Hard to recognize illusion;
to realize that while I smell
your perfume, and feel the
heart beat of your thigh
What I feel, is not
what I see.
Precious enough are the moments,
that you are you;
precious enough to
sear my eyes,
so to experience each hair
and lash through the
boiling steam, and notice that
Winter has turned to Spring.

A Cardiac Episode

There is a hollow carved in me,
an area created by hepatic knurling.
A space which serves as a hospice
for my Care, and Hope.
A place where these two
are given warm towels
light but tasty food, and
236 channels of cable TV
for entertainment while they
wait and bleed. I can
hear the rasp of their
labored breath; the choking
hemoptysis; the lesion wails
they cry into their pillows when
they believe no one else is
around. My heart is
heavy from the ichnite
filling the spaces
they have fallen from;
I drift in hemal circles.


-- from Sleeping with Nefarious Intent