i lied.

yeah. thats right. i lied. sorry folks. but what I'm about to tell you was way too much to get off my chest at that particular time. So heres the real story as to what ncpx really is.

the place where I work used to be a massive Apple complex (apple as in the company that makes iPods and Mac computers etc.) and it was built in the 1970s. In it was stored a lot of Australia's prime technology - the best shit you could get in the country at the time and a lot of research went on there - a recently declassified joint venture between the Australian Govt. and Apple.

anyway, this place was vacated by the late 90s and has been vacant 'till we came in 08 and started building our shit. as part of the opening team I got to inspect the place during the final stages of construction. so walking around the main areas of the joint I got pretty bored and decided to go up some stairs (and I didn't get stuck in them).

So I ended up on the uppermost floor, and walked for what seemed like ages past odd pipes, access panels, gauges, a boiler room, and miscellaneous junk leftover from the 30-year party that Apple threw in here before we came. That was until I get to an interesting door - a fuckin' huge vault door with an electronic number pad on it, left ajar. Wahey, ace. I'd come across something interesting! The trip was worth it.

The thing was pretty damn large so I had to shove it with my shoulder for it to move. So, all 80+ kilos of me accelerating into this door made it move quite shy of 1 meter. After shaking the dust from the vault slab off my shoulder and making a few curious peeks around the corner from under the door frame, I walked into the room.

Wasn't that big. It housed 6 tall lockers (the really old school type), some bookshelves, rearranged computer desks (with very old monitors left behind on them) and files of shit allover the floor. What I found most interesting though, was a metal pillbox type thing I found stuck to the bottom of one of the desks. So I side-kicked that shit off. Picked it up, put it next to my ear and gave it a shake. And sure enough there was stuff in there. So obviously I wanted to open it because I was eager to know what was left inside here (instead of just being chucked around on the floor) but the top wouldn't budge. It probably seized up with age, with the rust and buildup and shit like that. So I ran back to the main area to get something to pry it open with.

All the tradeys, various contractors and my superiors were too busy overlooking the project so I just walked up to the nearest tool box and racked the biggest flat-head screw driver in there. I jogged past the pipes, access panels, gauges, a boiler room and miscellaneous junk back to the security door and stopped right under the door frame.

"Why. the fuck. are the lights on?"

It's kinda freaky when you stumble across an interesting room with a busted open vault-thing, at the end of a long hallway of industrial shit-and-mess, in dead silence with no one around - and then find that the lights are on . I looked around for a light switch - there was none. THe only reason why I could see in there before was because there was light from the hallway outside - just enough to dimly light the room.

Fuck it, I thought. Probably just automatic. I wedged the end of the screwdriver under the lid and levered it upwards. Wasn't easy but, after some good yakka and elbow grease it opened. And as soon as the lid flicked off, a caged red light on the wall to my right turned on. No coincidence, for sure. It must have tripped it.

Seconds after, I heard a computer boot from inside one of the large desk drawers. I'm assuming it was an old school computer because the fan was so fucking loud, and it sounded like the one my dad bought for me and my sister back when I was in first grade (it was so shit, but it ran Diablo 1 and that was cool enough for me).

But, yeah. I was pretty freaked out. But so interested - so I flicked through the neat piles of documents that were in the pillbox. I flicked the pages with my thumb until I felt a paper clip and decided to open it there. It was used to attach a little handwritten note onto an A4 page

Username: jbriggs_apple29
Password: **********(I don't remember what it was)

Cool. I just got a login and password for something. The computer turned on anyway, so I figured it would have something to do with that, captain obvious.

It was REALLY primitive. The type that only came in two-tone. That bright digital green in that terrible DOS font. And needless to say, it had no operating system. Only text based commands , Y/N , >run kind of thing yea?

at first there was just a flashing green underscore on the top left of the screen. So I hit enter, to see if I would get a response. The computer made some clicking noises (the type your PC makes when loading) and was confronted with a login screen! Woohoo, time to try out my login. So I type it, and hit enter.

...

nothing happens.

I hit enter again. And wait.

Shit, nothing happens. I try hitting enter again and again but it seems frozen. The underscore stopped flashing, and the computer stopped loading (because it stopped making clicking noises). So I kicked the drawer where the machine to maybe get the machine responding again, and sure enough it did.

"Confirm? Y/N "

I hit Y (Y means Yes, N means No)

more clicking noises.



Then . Shit got real.

My face pretty close to the screen with anticipation of some possibly cool info, a deafening beep sounded from the computer - and it scared the SHIT out of me. I jumped back, and the flashing underscore spammed over and over again, on the left side of the screen:

ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx

Over, and over, and over, and over, and over.

I dunno, I just got scared. What the fuck? It beeps loud as fuck at me and I go into momentary cardiac arrest, and its telling me ncpx. I hit enter again.

"Initiate ncpx? Y/N"

Fuck I didn't know so I just hit Y.

The red light on the wall flashed, the computer made a louder fucking beep, and - yep, all the lights turned off. So here I am, shocked off my nuts, in complete darkness because EVEN THE LIGHTS IN THE HALLWAY WERE OFF.

I just stood there, for a few seconds, I didn't know what to fucking do. I completely forgot that I had a phone in my pocket with a light, I was just scared yo.

But then the tin lockers started trembling. Yep. Fuck that. I needed to get outta there, because I meddled and I came across shit I shouldn't have. I ran back towards the other direction, in complete darkness. I think I tripped like, twice. And I'm out in the main area... only to find that the last of the tradeys had gone home for the day. I was the last fucking person in the building.

.. yeah.



Love,

ncpx. x

jagerbombs.

I've recently thought about the bearing that strangers have on my life.
Well... no maybe not my 'life' (I use the term too loosely...) but more appropriately, the perception I have of people, society, humanity etc. Which, in the end, affects me.

it's comforting to know that someone you know nothing about (and needless to say, knows nothing about you) actually gives a shit (about you). I'll go as far as saying that I prefer the concern of strangers.

Why? Simply because they don't have to care. But they do - without any obligation or necessity other than to just 'be there'. I could have been just the other 6 billion + people here in the face of apathy - but one just choose to give a genuine damn.

its a pure intention that i feel never goes unpaid.

i write because of personal experience. one that doesn't happen often, but one I don't often forget. because i feel like they happen for a reason.

I feel at a bit of a loss that these people are just strangers and nothing more. because you might think that its only fair that they have something more to do with you, instead of just that 10 minutes decided by chance. but maybe we arent supposed to know them. maybe purity is ruined by acquaintance.

to fall in one-time yet true love is to receive the care of destined strangers.

i only wish i could offer the same confidence - lately it seems im only on the receiving end.

fuck it i'm feeling restless. im outta here.



kisses blown,
ncpx. x

Round 2...

... fuck it I'll sleep on it.

ncpx the hero

Interesting day at work today. Weirdos seemed to be out in full force. Must've been the weather. Either way I'm not complaining. It kept me very much entertained (and confused at the same time...)

Okay so approximately 11 AM I'm standing around at the reception desk just chillin' and watching the news (9 Killed in Alabama School Shooting read the headline, how terrible).
The phone rings.

"Hey there, NCPX speaking =) "

"h--e-p.. m.. st-!"

"Sorry you seem to be breaking up?"

"Ye- hello!?"

So at this point I figure she sounds pretty distressed.

"Yes Hi. I'm stuck in the emergency stairs! :( Level 4 ! Behind the fitness equipment :(! Can you let me out? I've been in here for half an hour :O"

HAHAHAH. Am I terrible for laughing? Because as soon as I agreed to let her out (because I'm a GREAT Samaritan) I cracked the hell up. Because.. why the hell are you in the emergency stairs? God damn...

So anyway I embark on my rescue mission (not without my hunting knife) and then I realise... this place is pretty fuckin' huge. I barely know my way around the dungeons and annals of this joint. So I wing it. I got a woman to rescue - I aint gonna let her die in there! Not on my watch! But then I laughed again because I thought about how funny it would be if things got that drastic. Haha...

I knew of about 3 or 4 emergency doors with a set of stairs in the place. And of course, because Murphy's Law is awesome, she was in the staircase I DIDN'T know about. So it took me an extra 5-8 minutes to rescue the damsel in distress, because I had to go up and down each staircase. And yes, in case you're wondering, I'm now extremely fit, have a 6 pack and am able to wrestle various large reptile species.

So on my way to the hot spot, like a true bad-ass hero, I run through very unlikely scenarios (JUST in case I'm gonna have to blow this motherfucker up). Example -

"Hmm... An innocent sounding ethnic woman in distress is stuck in emergency access stairs that even *I*, an employee, don't know where they are. She couldn't be a contractor...
ALL SIGNS POINT TO TERRORIST."

So my heart starts racing n' shit! I pulled that hunting knife out that I was talking about previously, and I hold that shit SABER GRIP like a pro (none of that serial killer stuff. Michael Myers was a wanker). I'm stealthing that shit to the emergency door.

"Be careful ncpx :(" says some lady, obviously quite aware of the peril I might face, and genuinely concerned for my safety.

"Thanks lady... it's alright I got this shit on
lock."

So I approach the door and I hear a bit of commotion inside. The type of noise that terrorists make when they're up to shit (you know the one?)

So I KICK the damn door open right? THOOMP...

"FREEZE LOSER!"

...
........


Nah that didn't happen like that. But anyway as soon as I get in the door I took a good two minutes of chill time so that I didn't laugh in her face when I opened it - because it was pretty funny. So it took me a good few minutes to get to her... add that onto the already half-hour she'd been in there - thats pretty distressing haha.

So I open the door, with abit of a smile on my face. There she is - a middle-aged European woman - oddly enough seemed to be dress for what seemed like dinner. Definitely not your gym slacks - she had a nice blouse, skirt and a handbag.
And she grilled me like your dad's 6-burner. Straight up.

"LISTEN YOU. YOU HAVE TO PUT A SIGN ON THESE DOORS! OKAY! I'M NOT HAPPY I WAS IN HERE FOR HALF AN HOUR. YOU HAVE TO PUT A SIGN. SAYING THAT PEOPLE SHOULD NOT GO IN HERE. OKAY? GOODNESS ME..." etc. etc. for a couple of minutes.

If I wasn't so amused by the situation I would've flipped. Because... you know.. this place is pretty god damn big. Its like 5000 square meters. You don't just fucking explore the place like it's your house. Especially odd doors next to other odd doors that say "STAFF ONLY" on them...

But anyway. Thats one lady rescued - she can now go home to her family, and tell them of her journeys through the annals of Virgin Active Frenchs Forest, and how a charming man named ncpx totally saved her curious ass.

hm?

"... like theres no tomorrow"

cliche, but common figure of speech.

so I told them that there is. A tomorrow.



Somehow I was the pessimist !

not so clear or concise. hopefully suffice.

So by popular demand (and a bit of personal desire), I think I owe you all another explanation! Its just something I've been holding off for a little bit. I don't know why. So first of all, to all you people that have been expecting/asking for a recent update; my sincere apologies. I've felt a little mentally bankrupt lately. But with the help of a few extremely good friends and company, I've decided to bring it out. How appropriate of me to talk about "coming out" on the night of the mardi gras. :P So here it is:

"What does ncpx mean?"
"" " " stand for?"
"" is ncpx?"

You get the drift. At that, I've actually received some interesting stabs at what it is.
One being "ncpx can't play xylophone". Which isn't at all separated from the truth. I can't play xylophone! In fact, I'd love to be able to but I really can't. So kudos to Alex - but, thats not why I chose the handle.

For those of you interested, let me tell you what 'ncpx' is. Or try to anyway. Because I don't really know what ncpx is. Apart from the fact that, oddly enough, I feel attached to this/it/him/her.
So let me begin by saying, I'm a vivid dreamer. By vivid I mean, I recall my dreams 90% of the time with near perfect clarity. Often times lucidly, but thats a different story for a totally different day. I make note of them, write them down in detail when I remember them and analyse them - most of the time I'm able to come to some sort of conclusion as to what they mean, why I dreamed it, and how it applies to my life.

Not so, says 'ncpx' . This four letter phrase appeared to me in at least 5 dreams, maybe more but I'm not too sure. And unlike the rest of the shit that appears, I have no idea what or who it applies to, what it means, or why it appears. I only know that proceeding it is a large number, in the hundreds or in the thousands (for example, 900 or 2000). The number would change, everytime. But ncpx stayed the same.
Everytime I woke up, I said the same thing to myself.

"wtf is ncpx?"

For a few months now, it's stopped appearing. I don't really care - but having said that I wouldn't mind for it to come back again, in a vivider scenario so that maybe I can look at it again and figure stuff out. As for now, it's left me in a bit of contemplation. It could may well mean fuck all. Then again I believe everything appears for a reason (especially in deja-vu circumstances). Unlike most things that I try to stick with, I haven't grown sick or tired of either looking at it or saying it or the idea of it being associated with me. To be honest its actually pretty comforting to know that something like this has come out of the purest of intentions - away from the corruption of consciousness and lucidity itself.

So... to answer your question of "what is ncpx?" and associated likenesses....

The answer:

I DON'T KNOW.




Perhaps we aren't asking the right questions. All I know is that later, maybe I'll share with you the various slideshows and scenarios that play out in my head when I grab my precious 12+ hour beauty sleeps in vivid detail, perhaps even the ones that ncpx seems to rear it's mysterious head in.



Seeya's later.


All love to you and yours,


ncpx xx