Category Archives: Writing

Foundation and Empire by Isaac Asimov(Book Review)

Asimov’s second book in the Foundation Series, it was immediately apparent to me what would happen. Perhaps the cover of the book gave it away, and I certainly will not give it up myself, Dear Reader. Suffice it to say that it was well drawn out and the answer doesn’t become clear until you’ve gathered all the pieces; but I still saw it coming from a galaxy away.

The story overall is that of escape and secrecy. Hunting down and stopping the Mule is imperative to the future of the universe. In the series, there is something called the “Seldon Plan” in which the “psychohistorian” Hari Seldon mapped out a course for the rejuvenation of the Second Empire through mathematics. With this plan, he projected that the future could be guided into peace and prosperity. The thousands of years of squalor and barbarism could be avoided. Setting up a Foundation on a small planet in the outer rim, it was filled with scientists and it prevailed for centuries. All who tried to conquer it were met with defeat, even when the Foundation didn’t lift a finger.

However, Seldon’s plan did not include a mutation. A variable in the formula that even the great Seldon overlooked. Maybe not “overlooked”, but got seriously wrong.

Bayta and Toran, the two main protagonists of this story, start their search for any and all information that may lead them to the formidable Mule that the whole galaxy fears. And by chance they are accompanied by the Mule’s Clown, Magnifico. A very sorry and queer creature that doesn’t want anything else more than to be as far away from the Mule as possible. Learning that the Mule is capable of emotional control, they are met by old friends that have been converted to the side of the Mule. Although their mental capacity is untouched, they are converted in to loving pawns of the mutant powers of the Mule.

Throughout their travels they are almost always met with resistance and sometimes even the chance of death. As they travel to different planets in search of information or simply running away from immenent danger, the galaxy seems to fall in to the control of the Mule behind them. Every where they go, The Mule’s men are looking for Magnifico. With not being able to tell who’s side anyone is on, Bayta figures out all the pieces to the puzzle just as their friend, Ebling Mis, is about to tell them the location of the Second Foundation. The only thing in the way of The Mule’s constant expansion of his dynasty. After defeating the Foundation, the weight of his existance is apparent to everyone that thought the Foundation could not be destroyed. In a sense, the destruction of the first was a majour victory. However, with the news that there is a Second Foundation only intices The Mule to further his conquest.

Which will happen in the next book, which I have already read and written about.

My favourite part of the whole book was when all of the psychologists and noblemen from the galaxy gather at the Time Vault where Hari Seldon reveals parts of the Seldon Plan to them and they are all astonished and utterly confused when Seldon’s Hologram explains what should be happening and which obviously is not. Leading everyone to think that Hari Seldon was crazy. At this, I literally chuckled throughout the whole thing, as if I too was sitting there in the futuristic chrome seats of the Time Vault.

So, I continue my journey in this epic series of Asimov, and I have finally collected all of the books, including the prequel that I didn’t even know existed. (Thank Goodness for awesome bookstores with great prices!) Until next time, Dear Reader! Thanks for reading.

Post Scriptum- Any suggestions on awesome Sci-Fi books? I’d love to get more books!


Getting My Mind Back

I’ve had a recent ‘spurt’ of creativity flowing through me recently, and am not quite sure why. It feels great though. I’ve been having constant day dreams about a story that I have been thinking about for the last few months. So, I have been researching all morning about how to collect water in space and on the moon.

Perhaps this post is a complete 180 flip from what I have been posting the last couple of months. But it is definitely a breath of fresh air. My mind has been a lot clearer not being on alcohol.

I write this now for the sole purpose of being grateful that I am alive another day.

There is a lot that has come to light in my mind and I think writing about that leaf was somewhat of a way to release some of my fears and sentiments that I never share with anyone. Knowing full well that the people that I most want to express myself to will never read it, and maybe by the time they do, things would be different. All I can hope to do is hang on to the last shread of sanity that I have. Not knowing where it is that I want to really go with my life.

I write now because I want to tell my future self that it can be done. Just keep doing what is right and believe that you can do it. Even if it is by yourself. No one said it would be easy. Thank You Dear Reader for your time. Much obliged.

Letting Go (A story about a leaf)

There has always been a subtlety in the way a brief zephyr hints to something from beyond our control. From a horizon not yet discovered or even fathomed. The distant star of realization and the continuity of the time left us by ancient wisdom. Faith… that core ingredient to something much larger than we could hope to envision. An understanding of what it means to finally let go of past transgression and success; to be one without and subsequently, with all. The days pass with each phase of the season. The wandering moon at night entertains my mind with it’s always changing face. Gradually becoming something other than what I perceive it to be, yet something else.

Rooted here, I have no choice but to silently let time pass by me. The others around me, I’m sure, feel the same as I. As the sun dips lower in the sky, it should be noted that some of the others have started to leave this place. Gracefully and quietly, so as not to arouse any malcontent from those who have yet to make up their minds.

I go alone, however, into the periphery of space with mere speculations. Asking only to understand if what it is that I feel worth any conjecture. Thoughts rampage about. Surely there is a doorway in which I can open that would lead me to a clearer answer. And as more time passes, the scene is one of a mere trifle of the existence that once stood before. In all of it’s lush glory, waving in the sunshine as if there was nothing to accept other than to exist in a world with no faults. Only to be met with the current curve of time in which all that was has become a far-off relic to be remembered. A blazing moment of youth captured in a memory.

And I go now, up-rooted and yearning for the next time I might feel the warmth of the sun which now hides behind the thunderstorms of swift change. Remarkable, yet frightening as it bolsters pillars of light that crisscross like splintering wood. Falling to the ground, that zephyr picks me up softly, gently laying me on the cold Earth. A resting place I thought that I would never get to touch. All who I had seen vanish now lay in beds that blanketed everywhere that I could see. Then I, too, had become one of these important pieces and subsequently fulfilled my part. Becoming one with the unexplored void. Released into the boundless horizon.

Fading from green, to yellow, to nothing.

Fish Out of Water

Feeling out of place:

The beer cost a fortune. The people, although barely starting to show up to the event, were polite and well kempt. My clothes on the other hand seemed rather shoddy and even slightly dirty compared to all of the garb most likely bought earlier that day for this specific time and place. Clothes, I felt, like they would never wear again.

A conversation can be heard across from me about a dress and how it was something, and something about something. My mind became tired of listening very quickly.

Probing around the room, the blue lights illuminated all the best features of those around me. Looking down at my shirt, I can see it grow increasingly more tattered.

The friend that I’m with knows everyone here. And I can see by his smile that he’s happy to see everyone that walks up to him. I stand idly by, waiting for any conversation to reach me, to be approached. Being too shy and awkward about the content of my discourse, I stand there, sipping beer that must be made of gold.

At the bar, there are tiny finger foods. Little sandwiches and cakes all donated to the event. Staring at them for a while, a tap on the shoulder alerts me to an opportunity at interaction. I’m asked to step aside so that they may purchase a beverage. Moving out of the way, I order another red cup full as well.

To my brief comfort, the kindled flame that I had been waiting for sparked a friendly exchange of words. However scant and loosely worded, I smiled and offered answers.

Throughout the night this scenario played over and over. Me at the bar. People ordering drinks. And me, getting to know bits and pieces of all these people that were here. On occasion, the friend I’m with introduces me to folks and I stand there. Saying that we’ve met already.

I’m supposed to be on vacation, doing things that make me happy and seeing things that I find interesting. But no, I’m stuck in a city with no choice but to be third wheel in charge of answering questions.


This was a writing prompt that I found online, and I had the perfect story to write about. Thanks for reading, Dear Reader! Have a great day.

The Scent of Flowers(Title unrelated)

A sense that is undoubtedly coming from the need for change. Is this that feeling that I get some times when I’m so comfortable that I have to get out of what ever decent situation that I’m in? Coming to this point frequently in my life, almost no alternative will suffice. Words escape me, fleeting with every whim that is taken. My thoughts sore high above the Ethernet cables and waterfalls of memory cascade into the dim lit rooms of the past. Searching through them like some kind of shoe box of photographs that are water stained from being forgotten for far too long, tucked away in the attic of the mind.

The unwarranted feelings of love and happiness drown me in simple conjunctures that formulate cohesive sentences. Albeit, they are sentences that are shoddy and without confidence.

Far from discretion, a broken heart is stitched to an arm that once felt as though it were able to hold a whole other world. One that lay in the sea of infinite possibility, travelling through space without knowing which direction it was going. But it floats on never-the-less. Ever moving through space and chaos. Broken symmetry in galaxies that evaporate without anyone ever knowing. Blissfully unaware of the potential within each speck of star dust.

The same which created you. The sole purpose of my being. The reason I want to live.

Each post is typed to blind eyes. A melody that is remembered only whilst reminiscing what once was. Birds could not sing a more beautiful note.

Dear Reader, my mind is some place else….

A Star Out of Reach

Earth’s solid form beneath me
With the soil in my hands
My only memory of you leaves
To shores of golden sands

Like a Bee with dutiful flight
Wandering the wilderness
My heart becomes childish
Blinking in and out of archaic existence

The soul is stardust
Memories are the wind
Blowing away in each breeze
Only to come back again

Our flower of passion has wilted
Unforgettable and True
Collapsing in my mind
On silky wings it flew

Your Memory is a Crown

I gaze at the fire
I am reminded of your eyes
When we walked through the flame
When your spark met mine

An Enigma that I would unravel
Between my arms
Between your legs

We masqueraded around as friends
Instead of the lovers we wanted to be

Now I am stuck here thinking of you constantly


Dear Reader, this poem is something that I have been thinking about. A woman that I have longed for since I met her. Although we became entangled by passion, we never got the chance to go further than that. I have always wanted to share my affections for her, and at times I do. But it all seems to futile at times.

Thank you for your time.