Michael Daaboul. 26 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Digital Designer & Creative Writer.
Michael Daaboul. 26 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Digital Designer & Creative Writer.
Taking a more philosophical approach to my writing, I want to explore the fundamentals of life through a different perspective. Narrowing down the essence of existence of human beings and analysing the possibilities for possible answers.
Either a series of abstract short stories or a novel based on the different emotions, behaviours and exact thoughts of everyday events and human psychology. An emphasis on appreciation and what is often left unnoticed because of the busy life routine.
This could also take a form of conversations between two characters asking questions and exploring answers about time, love, good vs. bad, various emotions, how people think in certain situations, death etc.
The novel will be a non-fiction debate over questions of life that are thought provoking and not obvious. They could spark from walking into town and viewing the surrounding and explaining and debating how all the strange things go neglected; the blind spot for everyday wanders that live there.
Research will need to be done on the psychology of different types of emotions and behaviour, concepts in philosophy and observing human interaction between social gatherings and other crowd populated areas.
One of the requirements needed to get into Master of Creative Media (Creative Writing) at RMIT University, a project proposal was needed to be submitted. This was mine back in 2009. I have no problems sharing this with you.
- Michael Daaboul
I’m waiting for you on top of this mountain every time the night arrives.
I watch stars that go by, some of which have been dead for a long while, but the stars’ light have finally made the trip to Earth to say hello for the last time.
I match the stars to form a picture of you, but the night disappears before I can finish.
I go home when I hear the birds sing, that means I should get back, but I do it all over again until I find you.
I don’t know what happened to you, without a hint to go by and no reason for a goodbye.
I decided to do what I knew best and wait on top of this mountain, your favourite place on Earth, where we used to match the stars to form portraits of you and I.
I’m standing on top of a car as the Sun is about to rise. I feel a cool breeze that pushes right through.
The waves of the ocean climb the rocks high enough to catch my eyes. The waves, like hands, reach out.
The wind allows me to enjoy this moment before it bends the branches on the trees. I spread my arms out like an eagle, for a moment, I feel like I have wings. Closing eyes in hope the wind has similar thoughts. I am disappointed I can’t fly. I can’t reach the sky but that didn’t matter. It was that calm thought that sent my mind soaring, a sense of being free, that feeling of being me.
The Sun rises and the warmth is welcoming, the wind grabs hold of my hand as I fall, the wind whispers, "Hold on."
They call me Bill.
I’m like everyone else, walking as the world stood still. Always satisfied; my life made up of simple things.
They told them to multiply, to fuel human hunger. Most were left staring at the sky.
Everyone forced into plunder. A system ruled by shadows.
A kingdom forgotten and never knowing how it slipped by. They couldn’t make decisions, they never could. Inability to use such functions of the human brain exploded their comprehension.
“I’m Bill; I’m like everyone else until I stopped walking and noticed what surrounded me.”
“I’m Frank; I’m like everyone else. I stopped breathing when I sank. Have you met my friend Bill? Apparently he stood still.”
Female: What are you talking about?
Bill/Frank: What happened?
Female: Are you feeling okay?
Bill/Frank: Where is…
Female: Eat your dinner.
Bill/Frank: What happened?
“They call me Bill, hello everyone; I suffered from amnesia from an accident. They said I did it for the thrill.”
"What did I do?"
Female: Today we have Bill and Frank joining us. Please make them feel welcomed.
Applause vibrates the hollow room.
“Hi, they call me Frank, I suffer from a damaged heart, and they said it’s failing. It’s getting broken. I can’t repair it you see; I don’t have that much money in the bank. They said it’s going to be expensive to fix a heart.”
Female: Who is she?
Bill/Frank: She was just here…
Female: You must be dreaming! You just woke up!
Bill/Frank: They caught me…
Female: Who are 'they?'
Bill/Frank: They fell from the sky…
"Hi there, they call me Life, hello world. I was like Bill and Frank, but, unlike them, I couldn’t control my own way. Everything fell down when I tried to turn things around. They found out they were part of something perfectly designed, they couldn’t turn anything around…"
Bill couldn’t remember what his Mum’s name was after the accident she abandoned him. The amnesia removed all traces of her.
Frank didn’t know his wife divorced him; he is in the United States trying to find treatment for his heart condition.
Bill worked for average pay
Frank didn’t know what to say
Bill stood still
For this reason he always went to the bank
To try and fix something that was broken
With money he couldn’t find
He slowly declined
Bill was on average pay
Frank just didn’t know what to say anymore
Bill just couldn’t pay anymore
Frank’s emotions just couldn’t feel anymore
"Hi, I’m Bill’s Mum and Frank’s wife, I never really spoke to Bill or Frank after the incidents, Life told me to swear to keep a promise in return that one day everything will be fair. That’s what Life said, I swear, that’s what they all said."
"Life was not fair."
It’s always the little things that no one gets to see.
When you have run out of credit you drive down to the petrol station in your boxers to recharge your mobile phone to send a happy birthday message just before it hits midnight.
You don’t have a Facebook account to send a message because you only keep in contact with your close friends only. You have no desire to add everyone you meet in the world in the constant quest of achieving a high friend score or to advertise where you have checked in as if to please your covetous stalkers. You would rather enjoy where you are with your company rather than taking out your phone to see the latest status updates from people you don’t care about.
You enjoy a moment to yourself amused at the thought of wishing you had an account to check in to the toilet and realise it’s not all that ridiculous when the social network isn’t abused.
It might be a last minute gift that you go out in your pyjamas to the mall where you spend hours without having breakfast to find something special for her. You’re lightheaded and people are looking at you like you’re a bum off the streets and make awkward looking faces at you as if you’re a complex Rubik’s Cube and can’t quite figure it out. You haven’t shaved, you’re frustrated and you make a little scene. This time the security guards have an awkward look on their faces and their hands are close to their two-way radios hinting for backup in case you turn into the Hulk. You’re aware of this, you start to calm down and from the corners of your eyes, you find the most ideal present.
You walk up to the counter and you open your wallet. The employee at the checkout sees a few $100 notes in there and starts to think you’re a criminal that has mugged a few people on your way to the store. You can’t possibly have that much money if you wear those clothes and haven’t shaved.
You realise the employee’s hesitation and wonder if success is measured in what you wear in public or how well groomed you are.
Surviving your encounter at the mall, a few hours have passed with enough time to wear your nice shirt, clean pair of jeans and you didn’t forget to shave.
You make it to the birthday party and you don’t tell her what has happened. You’re exhausted, you just say you had a busy day at work, she will smile and she will never know what extent you went through to make it perfect for her and that you discovered impressions is all about how good you look.
Stuck on an island with nothing to see
You can walk up to the sand
Standing next to a tree
Think about your future
Wearing something you have never seen
Feels a little surreal
In a place you have never been
Take a picture of the stars
They’re alive for a moment
In space playing their guitars
The music takes a hold of you
Feeling so new
On an island
That’s afraid of you
The sky drops a ladder
Right in front of you
Drops like feathers
In spite of all your failures
Take a picture of this scene
The rain falls between
Your dreams wiped
By a windscreen
Thinking about your future
The strangest thing happened
I was awakened
By the storm in front of me
Trying to break free
This island torn apart
Listening to Mozart
The strangest thing happened
He was a man
Without a heart
Tell me please
What’s this all about
A madman from the start
Drinking away your dreams, forgetting what you mean
Imported satisfaction, a losing dream
You’re angry at the fact you’re losing steam
Set yourself back several years
You’re young and you have no dreams
Drinking satisfaction, you’re losing sleep
You have no one, not a single fleet
Your senses bombarded, you’re a losing cheap
You’re young and you’re tired
You’re ending, your drinking has expired
You’re the blame, a miserable sheep
You’re blind drunk in Melbourne
With no dreams, you’re losing sleep
You wanted to have it all, just like the rest. You wanted to feel the emotion of having everything and a sense of completion for once in your life, when it feels like a constant occurrence for everyone else.
You just wanted to feel what it would be like to have it all, before you die.
Are you being greedy? Or is it too much to ask for?
Your heart cries at night, it’s usually happy when there’s light. You can feel it beating so hard it hurts your chest and you feel like there are fingers crawling down your throat.
It’s alright if no one cares, you just need to find a place where you can rest. When you sleep, you dream and all of your worries seem to go away. When your eyes are closed, you go into another world. It’s nice there, but blinded by the fact that it’s the same world when you’re awake.
There are things in life that we’re not supposed to know, going along on your own; you never seem to find anyone to call in your empty contacts list on your mobile phone.
Looking back from start to the end, you realise, it wouldn’t have been so bad, if you had someone to rely on instead, or even a friend.
Helping people notice that they’re alive, you try to protect what they don’t know in hope that they will survive.
You assist in their last chance for hope and you try to deliver their cause because they never cared about their own, but still you tried to help in the way you knew best.
You slowly realised how their hearts and minds found a way to protest. You turn around and you look at me; this is all you had to give and their expecting you with words that will somehow make them feel better.
You’re the one they will be relying on. You told them to please take all that you had to say and put it into action. You told them that you couldn’t help yourself and that you had always fallen so short.
You don’t have to take up all this concern, it’s hard to listen and act at the same time. When your time is lost and your pride is broken, the fire inside you does not burn and does not lie; you will know it will hide.
You turn around and look at me; this is all you had to give and their expecting you with words that will somehow make them feel better. You’re the one they will be relying on.
I’m just your friend, someone you can trust until the end. I will never pretend. I will help you before I begin to help myself and help the people I care for most. I will teach you that life is not right, life is not wrong, just sometimes like a badly written song.
You get your good days and the rest have gone by the count of three. Just like that, gone by the time you have counted to three. Always remember, you will be the one to save them all … you’re the one they will be relying on.
She had a face that was slowly dying, it was the only reason why she was crying. Makeup hides the world that she lived in and she never saw her troubles building.
When she moisturised her skin, illusion created the softness she was in. When she wakes up from this mess, she will realise life is not as she guessed.
She is stuck on thirty something, as time escapes from the sands of time, she has lost everything. She has never seen how wrong she had been.
She had tried to accept her situation but realises she is the cause of her own destruction. Wrinkles are the only thing left in her soul; everyone now can see what’s underneath.
No amount of makeup can hide you from your all time lows.
The sound of a flute tells the story, a sad ring that she will hear when she is forty; she still wears the makeup she used to wear at twenty.
When she wakes up from this mess, she realises life is not as she guessed. In life everything catches up to you, it’s a beautiful illusion she was subjected to.
From the same place she started to hate him, he couldn’t understand why, his heart is the place she used to live in, now it’s the place she will never be in.
When she wakes up from this mess, she realises life is not as she guessed.
She is stuck on thirty something, as time escapes from the sands of time, she has lost everything.
Now she has never seen how wrong she had been. She had tried to accept her situation but realises she is the cause of her own destruction.
Her tiny heart is beating, it’s barely breathing. It’s suffocating in blood; it’s feeling the weakness inside, like a flood that is drowning her.
The clock is ticking, she is fading pretty fast. The only person is Death by her lonely side.
She is running pretty fast, but she is falling behind. She is finishing last. The weakness is slowly killing her, her heart is barely breathing.
It came without a warning; it was just waiting to attack her heart. She found it hard to remember, that saying about the calm before the torture.
That night in December her name was picked from fate’s short hand and Death was gladly to be the only person by her side. Her heart is barely even beating, but Death is still waiting.
Death is always there, until she fades to the end, as her memories are on time, “Not a single friend to call mine”, she recalled.
Her heart closed its eyes; it blinked for the last time, that familiar irregular beat, that dear girl of mine.
Her life has gone and has taken what little she had left for a little ride.
Death had its way, she ran so fast to end up last. She was so tired; she kept on running … even in death she was still suffering.
That’s all she ever did in her life, because she didn’t want to die. She just ran and held hope by the hand.
Her heart was barely breathing, with her own blood suffocating her that stopped it from beating.
Pages often hide between the binds of books. They can’t move, although, it is not like they have anywhere else to go.
Pages are stuck and cannot afford the price of freedom, even though pages don’t know what freedom feels like. But they have read about freedom in books that don’t end. They have heard of books that never end and books that haven’t got binds.
One day, a page fell out of a book. A rather old book that no one reads anymore, the type of books dust likes to keep warm in places no one knows exists.
The page glided over the air in hope of finding those books that never end. It glided until no more wind was present enough for it to move. The page cried the word freedom in its last attempt to feel what it had read long ago in a time where dust wasn’t the page’s friend.
As the page lied quietly in the midst of an empty space, in a place where no one looks anymore, dust came wandering by.
“Are you lost, page?”
The page replied, “I’m trying to find freedom …”
“You won’t find freedom here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Freedom is a place that no longer visits.”
“But, I have read in books that never end that freedom does exist.”
“Those books never end, although, they always do.”
“What do you mean?”
“What was once there isn’t anymore. Books that don’t end are when pages like you are read constantly and endlessly.”
“You mean the popular books?”
“Yes, those books are endless …”
“No one reads me anymore?”
“No one reads you anymore because no one wanted to read you or better yet, I don’t think they could reach. You were placed in here, where no one looks, on the highest shelf even the ladder is too short to greet you, page. The place everyone has forgotten, away from the popular books.”
“But you haven’t forgotten us?”
“I am dust; I don’t know how to read. I probably could, not like I ever want to anyway.”
“It’s not my job. I keep things that no one wants or uses anymore warm. Things no one uses or needs anymore get lonely and cold.”
“But, you could still read us though!”
“I could, but that would mean you would be used again and I can’t let that happen. You can’t be read.”
“Because it means I wouldn’t exist anymore …”