Chas

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Member Since: 2/11/2004
Total Mixes: 13
Total Feedback: 9

Other Mixes By Chas

CD | Theme - Narrative
CD | Theme
CD | Mixed Genre
CD | Mixed Genre

An Evening At The End of Time

Artist Song
David Gilmour  There's No Way Out of Here 
Gary Jules  Mad World 
Steven Trask + John Cameron Mitchell  Wicked Little Town (Tommy's Version) 
The Delvins  Waiting 
Pink Floyd  Nobody Home 
Moody Blues  I Know You're Out There Somewhere 
Teitur  Let's Go Dancing 
Phish  Fast Enough For You 
Led Zeppelin  Thank You 
David Bowie  As The World Falls Down 
Roger Waters  Four Minutes Intro --> 
Pink Floyd  Eclipse --> 
Roger Waters  Four Minutes Outtro --> 
The Beatles  The Last Note of "A Day In The Life" 
The Alan Parsons Project  Some Other Time 
Ben Folds  Wandering 
Kansas  Dust in the Wind 
Steely Dan  Any World 
Flaming Lips  Feeling Yourself Disintegrate 
Weezer  Only In Dreams 

Comment:

"My name is no longer important - first among the casualties of the Ruination was human individuality. Amazing, really, that the one fundamental idea our culture had been based upon since the Renaissance was the first to go at the time we needed it most.

I was one survivor in a million dead, one of the so-called "lucky ones". My wife, Maria, was not. I shouldn't have been surprised really. Boston was one of the first cities to go. If I hadn't been trapped in the tunnel, if I hadn't decided to go to work five minutes early, if I had stopped at Dunkin Doughnuts like I usually do.well, I would have been spared all of this.

The hard part wasn't surviving the choking smoke, the days without food, or the bloody bodies piled on the curbside. It wasn't the radiation or the rubble or the knowledge of the loss of everything I had ever known wiped out in one haunting instant. If there's one thing humans are quite good at, it's adapting and surviving. I could have made it. I would have survived, mentally and physically - hell, I might have even been happy again. If only, if only, if only.

It was Maria, calling out to me and vanishing in the instant between the bomb's detonation and its wave of destruction. The entire moment took just one measure, the amount of time between heartbeats on "Dark Side of the Moon". Half a breath, and it was over. She was gone, and my essence with her.

There actually is not much difference between who I am now and who I was before I met Maria. Ironically, I lived my life then much as the survivors are forced to do now. I holed up inside my room and my life, existing solely in text, image, and flash code on the jungle of the Internet. I had no hope, no future, and no dreams. I was dead at eighteen.

Yet one day, Maria called out to me. I somehow managed to hear her soft cry over the endless channels of static with which I had been overloading my brain. I devoted five long years of my life searching her out, trying to find that one voice in the sea of many, that one perfect visage in the sea of millions. I knew she was out there, somewhere.

One day, I found her. She woke me from my dreamless sleep, ended my endless cycle of destruction. She gave me something to believe in: Love unlike any the world has ever seen before or will ever see again. I blinked my eyes, and the speeding madness of the world came into focus. Everything I had spent my whole life ignoring was suddenly clear now that she was by my side.

We knew society was hurtling toward oblivion, but I had always suspected our love was stronger than the bonds of reality - I could never imagine a world without her, a world where I would be sent back to my dreamless sleep. Our love stood strong as everything crumbled around us, but no one could have expected the final blow to fall so soon - I never expected things to end so fast. The images of that morning, the last time I ever saw her, were burned into my soul with a pen of fire. I could live a hundred thousand years and that image would never lose clarity.

I have nothing to live for now, not really. Memory? Hope? I'm so detached from life that I hardly know where I am and what I look like. I haven't slept in nine days. I'm afraid that I'm going to fall into permanent madness.if death doesn't take me first. I walk through my life in a permanent stupor, waxing between dream and reality.

If this is my last moment of reality, I will not put up a fight.

I now dream only of her."


Excerpt from a journal entry dated September 19, 2016. The author is unknown, though discovered along with the entry was a Compact Disc with the words "An Evening At The End of Time" written in indelible marker on the surface.

Both the original entry and Compact Disc can be viewed at the "Faded Memories: Voices from the Ruination" exhibit at the Museum of Social History in New Boston from December 15th 2203 through May 31st, 2204.

Feedback:

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Daydreamer
Date: 5/24/2004
hmm...interesting
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James Jackson
Date: 5/25/2004
Impressive.
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paulamoeba
Date: 5/25/2004
inventive -- devlins, teitur, and alan parsons make for a nice evening.