- Last Record: 2013-03-06 10:31:46 -0500
- Joined: Sep 05, 2011
This may sound stupid, but…I think I’ve seen your eyes before. Once. As a child. In a dream. Yes. I’m almost sure that I have. They were floating through the air. No purpose or obligation, and they followed me around the room. Holding me. Without judgment. I think.
Once there was a hand with wings. She flew and saw amazing things. One day she saw an unusual place where she met an eye without a face. The eye had wings, but did not fly. He cried and whaled. He wished to die. The hand asked, “if you don’t mind, good eye, won’t you tell me why you cry?”
“I am posted to the ground and cannot move.” said the eye
“Then I shall dig you out!” said the hand who stumbled a bit (no legs to stand)
Days went by. Then months. Then years.
Hand still dug.
Eye still shed tears.
“Finally I’m free!” said the eye at last who zipped and zagged through the air so fast!
The hand fell to the ground, you see, she had given her life so the eye could be.
And as she lay gazing into the sky she began to reflect at years gone by.
She thought of the work he had put in, for the eye to see the world again.
And as she felt her final breath deploy…
One last tear fell.
This time from joy.
Dear Creepy Man Driving Next To Me On The Highway,
Unicorn? Did ya'll say somethin' bout a unicorn? I was 17 when I saw my first unicorn. Well…first and last, I should say. I saw it through the scope of my rifle, and didn't register the silver horn stickin' out the silver mane till after the silver blood hit the ground. Yep, caught a lota flack for that one; seein's how it was the last one en all. Still don't really get what the huff was about neither…monochromatic mother-fucker: borin' thang if you ask me! Course, nobody did ask me…too busy reeling over 'the death of magic,' or some nonsense. Death of magic? I seen people drive cars that park themselves! If that ain't magic, you tell me what is! Psh…death of magic. .......Momma was embarrassed. Partly cuz the tabloids, but mostly cuz Papa insisted on mountin' its silver head over the fireplace mantle. "Compliments the mermaid!", papa says, but…we wasn't s'posed to tell no folks 'bout the mermaid.
Tuesday, man it’s only Tuesday. I wish it were Friday, I really want to see a movie, but according to my schedule I can’t until then. Or at least Thursday, could it at least be Thursday? I’ve been pissed off lately and wouldn’t mind blowing off a little steam. I usually feel refreshed after a heated argument with Raiza, but last weeks interaction left me cold and unsatisfied. I hate Tuesdays. Coffee with Joan used to be fun, now its just drab. She just goes on and on about her new sleeping partner. How they “fit together” so well; and so what if he doesn’t snore, and who cares if he smells like new shoes. I don’t care if he’s better than Mark anyway. I mean, Mark's just my Sleeping Partner…it’s not like we’re fucking. Speaking of: Sunday seems so far away, but I don’t even think hours of fucking Donny could make up for this. Man is she still talking? Maybe I should appeal for a new Conversationalist. Who am I kidding, I don't care enough to deal with the hassle. Granted it was worth it to have Donny replace Jacob, but those six weeks without sex were excruciating, and Joan said that was a quick turn around. Besides, I don’t think I could go that long without coffee. Oh look at the time. Sorry Joan, but it’s nearly six and the bells are about to chime. Now where am I supposed to meet Nathan? Was it Parkin’s on 5th, or did we go there last week? That place was alright. The décor was a little opulent and I’m pretty sure we over tipped the waiter, but the food wasn’t bad. I’d better check the schedule. I’m glad I got Nate for Dinner Companion. I can't imagine sleeping with him, and I’m sure our sex would be a disaster, but the man sure knows his wines. With his crimson bouquets and his thick or thin legs, frankly I can barely tell the difference between red and white. I feel sorry for him really, being paired up with me, I wonder if he minds. Oh well, luck of the draw I guess. Although they say luck has nothing to do with it. "See ya next Tuesday Joan. Yeah, it's six already. Time does fly, Joan. Well, I'll see you next Tuesday." and the Tuesday after that, and the Tuesday after that…and…sigh. Luck has nothing to do with it. …that's for sure. ______________________
Dinner with Nate is the highlight of my week. He orders the Pino, and I nod in ignorant agreement. We talk of our days. Tuesday's movie day for Nate. He and April saw the one about the talking ape who's stripped of his miraculous speaking ability by some scientist, because he asks too many questions. Ape-phasia: a hilarious social commentary, say the ads. Nate disagrees. "It's just too easy!" he exclaims. I'm not sure I follow, so I nod my head and change the subject. "Appeal for a new Conversationalist." Nathan interjects, after 20 kind minutes of dutiful commiseration. I scoff. "Yeah…right. Because it's that easy". Nate's demeanor changes. He draws swirls in his bisque with the tip of his spoon. His cheeks turn read, and he suddenly looks like a young boy. "Hey Claire?" His voice cracks. "What if we could…you know…choose." "Pardon?" "You know, could…could chose." "Pardon?" "Come on, Claire, you know what I'm saying…" His pubescent tone now controlled to a low, strained whisper, "could choose what we do, when we do it, and with whom." "WHAT?" "SSSSHHHH!" "What?" I say again, in a quieter, more dignified manner. "Don't you ever feel like this is wrong, Claire? Haven't you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, all human relationships and interaction are not meant to be predetermined?" "Of course I have, Nathan, but it's not a thought I entertain! I mean…what's the point? It's not like we can do anything about it, right?" "I guess, but…" "I mean we don't just do things for no reason, right? Sometimes you just have to accept the way things are. Sure, I fantasize about skipping coffee with Joan, and running off to a movie with you and April, but…some things are just fantasy, Nate, and never meant for anything more." The young boy sighs and suddenly I am dining with an old man. A defeated man. "OK, Claire…ok." The main entrées come. Then dessert. Then the Cognac. The sharp, concentrated tension makes for dull, diluted dinner conversation. Bells chime. I have to run. I bid Nathan goodnight, and head toward my sleeping chamber. Lying in bed, I mull over Nathan's and my brief, but indelible conversation. Of course I had wondered what it would be like, everybody had. But the fantasy of choice is not appropriate dinner conversation. Still, the idea is hard to shake. What if it were possible: to dictate our own interactions. Then again, why would we want to? Each and every individual is paired accordingly. I jab Mark's side in a futile attempt to stifle his snores. Paired accordingly….according to what? I push the notion from my mind. Best not to think of such things. ____________________________
Raiza greets me with an ironic smile, as I enter the Debate Chamber. For two days, I have managed to quell the fire Nathan sparked within me to an ember. It occurs to me, now, that broaching the topic of choice with Raiza could do me good. He is an excellent Debate Partner. Perhaps arguing the issue will purge my system of this nonsense. "So, Claire, I saw that Ape-phasia movie the other day, and was thinking we could talk about the issue of…." "Actually, Raiza," I interject, "I was kind of hoping we could talk about something else." "Oh…ok, Claire, I guess that'll be ok." Raiza sulks like a child, when he doesn't get his way. …I wonder if he snores.
"Because no one's ever broken the schedule before" Raiza yells, "that's why!" "Yes, but why haven't……" "Leave it alone, Claire! There's a good reason!" "Yes, but what would happen if……" "SOMETHINEG BAD, CLAIRE! SOMETHING REAL BAD! OK?" Wow. This isn't like Raiza, at all. He's usually so poignant in his rebuttal. Today his argument is beyond sophistical; childish even. His face displays complete frustration and defeat: a post debate expression worn typically by me. My victorious smile fades as I am struck by the implications of Raiza's inability to debate the issue. We stare at each other for a moment. The bells chime. ____________________________
I watch Tristin hug her green sweater as the mobs of people settle in around her. The empty seat to her right resembles a missing tooth in a crowded smile. What would happen if I didn't show? As the lights dim, I can only imagine what the poor girl is thinking. Did something tragic happen? Could my movie partner have been reassigned? Not until I walk to my seat will the girl dressed in green remember to exhale. "Where have you been?" Tristin whispers sternly in my ear. "Are you OK? Oh my God, Claire, I didn't know what to do!" "Sorry Tristin" I say, "I got caught up with something." If you call hiding in the dark corner of a movie theater something. "It won't happen again." It will happen again. The bells ring, just as the final credits roll. The movie was appalling and suddenly I understand what it means for a film to be 'too easy'. Tristin loved it. Luck has nothing to do with it. Why wouldn't she? Everyone is paired accordingly.
The earth exhales to fill my lungs.
You really should try to be…you know…more like us.
Um…you’re not real.
Oh but we are real, Carl.
My name is Louis I keep telling you.
Why do you say it like that? It’s not a difficult name.
Right. Anyway this is what we’re talking about. You’re so caught up with little things like who’s "real" and who’s "not", just because you were talking to yourself in the mirror? That’s silly.
You said I was talking to myself! I knew you weren’t real!!
Oh but we are real.
We just weren’t listening earlier.
So you were talking to yourself.
Because we weren’t list-
Yeah I get it! Why can’t you just leave me alone!?
You bring up a good point.
Yeah. You really shouldn’t talk to yourself in the mirror, Carl. It’s creepy, and we worry about you.
You probably shouldn’t talk to yourself like that either, it’s not healthy.
I give up.
We would never give up, Carl......you really should try to be more like us.