And now there's a movement and gathering of confluent forces forcing me ever forward. The other ones are won and then what is left is right and mighty. Run on, hide and see that now is dropping from the face of the earth and forever cascades into upwardly mobile crystallization.
This science is not nonsense, but it screams so wrong at me. It howls at me til the skin is windsheared from the muscle and the muscle torn from the bone. Why does the universe scorch my skull?
A speeding soaring solitary confinement as the guiding mind of masses, spinning, twisting, looping around in my fractal whirlwind wake. They whip around ricocheting off the sublime confines of their spaceship selves.
The captain engages the autopilot and steps back from behind the curtain. He casually whistles and snags a coffee. A wink and a nod at the flirty stewardesses as he strolls down the aisle. He's floating forward in slo-mo cool molasses as his ass makes its way down, down, down.
The passengers are molecularily vaporized and rematerialized in fluctuating prime number sequences pulsing and pulsating the pounding beat of the sweet night. Their faces are snapshots of happiness and blurs of pain. Moody hues rippling the gaps of their captured, frozen in time smiles.
Interstellar psychology never covered this. None of the manuals or training covered the actualization that these poor souls are the banshees of space, crying lonely eternal sighs into neverever. And it's all my fault.
It was my call. My choice. Decision. Fault. Condemn and send the condolences to my former address. The mail there all gets consumed in the flames of my jetstream as I fly this mean bastard around and through and collapsed into.
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Thursday, February 19, 2009
INSTANT FICTION: fight.
I scream and you yell. It escalates and tempers rage. One of us sinks low and makes a stab, pushes that button we know will take this one step too far. And we can't stop.
We try to put on the brakes but emotions are high and now it is way beyond the point of no return. The madness in your eyes tells me this is no argument but a full blown, knock down, drag out fight to the finish.
Your arm is thrown wide and the hand on a wild orbit from your person comes careening towards my face. I grab your forearm and throw you backwards. A kick to the midsection as you stumble makes sure you don't get your footing back.
Now we feel silly and childish, but more than that you feel humiliated and that taps into every embarrassing moment, every failure, every second of your life that was wrong and degrading. And now, I am every enemy. More than that, I am the very essence of everything that makes you feel inferior and weak and dumb and sad and alone in this misbegotten universe.
So, you slip into bezerker mode and claw your way through the air between us, enraged and insane, eager to get your hands around my throat and squeeze, you're about to engage me with your muderous intent.
We try to put on the brakes but emotions are high and now it is way beyond the point of no return. The madness in your eyes tells me this is no argument but a full blown, knock down, drag out fight to the finish.
Your arm is thrown wide and the hand on a wild orbit from your person comes careening towards my face. I grab your forearm and throw you backwards. A kick to the midsection as you stumble makes sure you don't get your footing back.
Now we feel silly and childish, but more than that you feel humiliated and that taps into every embarrassing moment, every failure, every second of your life that was wrong and degrading. And now, I am every enemy. More than that, I am the very essence of everything that makes you feel inferior and weak and dumb and sad and alone in this misbegotten universe.
So, you slip into bezerker mode and claw your way through the air between us, enraged and insane, eager to get your hands around my throat and squeeze, you're about to engage me with your muderous intent.
INSTANT FICTION: love.
Somehow, some way, the universe clicks into place putting us in front of each other. We look at each other and see each other and meet each other. Our psycho-symmetrical sheen glistens and shows us at our best and brightest.
We glow and know that this feeling is the reason we exist. We've found each other through all the haze and endless days of loneliness. She'd grown hard and he'd fallen sad, but now...
We fall like the angel, spiralling, smiling, dancing in a wild, whirlwind manner. Mad children giggling the days away, stealing glances, then kisses. Hands held, lips locked, we united & divided our selves, we ended and began where the other once did.
One of us loses the glazed look, that longing gaze, suddenly and before the other. We see ourselves now fully immersed and without a memory of solitary confinement. One claws, one clings, all while the memories sting.
Fear, abandonment, and dropping on down. Left behind and moving beyond, polarities swapped. Who are you, am I, are we, now that two became one and one now splits into none.
It ends. Love is hated. Cursed as the bane of mankind and that empty, lost ache is felt by the two. Buttons pushed, destroying a friendship, broken individuals crying and unable to reach out to another without crumbling, tumbling away.
We glow and know that this feeling is the reason we exist. We've found each other through all the haze and endless days of loneliness. She'd grown hard and he'd fallen sad, but now...
We fall like the angel, spiralling, smiling, dancing in a wild, whirlwind manner. Mad children giggling the days away, stealing glances, then kisses. Hands held, lips locked, we united & divided our selves, we ended and began where the other once did.
One of us loses the glazed look, that longing gaze, suddenly and before the other. We see ourselves now fully immersed and without a memory of solitary confinement. One claws, one clings, all while the memories sting.
Fear, abandonment, and dropping on down. Left behind and moving beyond, polarities swapped. Who are you, am I, are we, now that two became one and one now splits into none.
It ends. Love is hated. Cursed as the bane of mankind and that empty, lost ache is felt by the two. Buttons pushed, destroying a friendship, broken individuals crying and unable to reach out to another without crumbling, tumbling away.
When the Universe Ends. Act 3. Last.
"Hey Jake."
No, she couldnt say it like that.
"Jake!"
"Jake?"
"Jake."
An ocean of people surrounded Amber yet there she was, thrust in the middle of this crowd, and just twenty feet away from him. She had to say something didnt she? After all those dreams and signs that brought here back here. That brought her back to New York City.
Jake was lagging behind his friends and felt himself slipping away into invisible oblivion as the crowds swarmed around him. His head was down low, his feet dragged along the concrete. He barely noticed the couples that spun around him, dancing and celebrating and preparing to kiss this past year goodbye.
Amber walked up slowly as the masses cleared a path for her, destiny guiding her to him, to his embrace, to his arm draped around her, one hand upon the small of her back, the other holding her firmly against his body as his chin caressed the inside of her neck and his lip slid across her cheek before...
He thought of the last year, not of her, and wanted to lash out. Start a fight with this stupid world, kick the love out of them, punch away the dark, lonely hours spent locked in his apartment. Didnt he deserve to be happy? He just couldnt make himself content long enough for it to matter, long enough to last. Hollow empty hearts is all that he could sense around him, for it was all the lay within him.
Amber was within arms reach when she finally saw him. His shoulders were hunched forward, his head drooping low. She needed him, she would help him and then everything could be good again. She could feel complete once more. Her other half of her self was right in front of her. A touch of her hand was all it would take.
Jake whipped his head upward and began to scream at the top of his lungs. Amber stumbled backwards, her hand in mid-journey through the space between them. A few drunken partiers caught her as they all stood dumbstruck at the guy yelling with all his might at the cruel joke that is this universe.
"I HATE YOU AMBER!"
The noise of the crowd rose and Jakes proclamation was lost to the sonic tidal wave of the New Years countdown. He felt his chest and caught his breath. No one seemed to even notice, the world not batting an eye at this revelatory outpouring of a year, no almost a decade of frustration and hurt.
"10!"
Jake felt something on the back of his mind; A sad and crushed hope for anything good to come of this next year, of these next decades, of the rest of his life. But then he realized he wasnt alone, somehow, feeling that there was someone in the universe that felt the pain that he was feeling. He turned around.
Amber was also turning around, away from him, and smashing her way through the shiny, happy people, with their eyes aglow with the possibilities of endless happiness. Jake saw her running away and immediately went to reach out for her, to call her name, to scream it once more.
"9!"
Amber burst out of the crowd and into the empty street, bolting across through a wash of tears. Jake thought he should let her go. Let her run away. He did hate her. He hated having to think of her, and hope that shes okay, and that shes happy. He despised himself for being so weak so as to regret what felt so right a minute ago. Wasnt it more than appropriate that she be here to hear it? To hear how he really felt about that damn girl that has infected him, brought him low, made him cry his eyes out?
Amber ran and ran. She blew through Bryant Park where they saw that Robert Redford flick, the subway stop where he took her picture for the first time, the goddamn fountain where they stopped and kissed. She ran down wherever there was an empty space for her, heading nowhere in particular, but everywhere she needed to collect the hurt. This city was full of lost memories, a minefield of moments.
"8!"
Jake shoved his way out into the street and took after her. He knew where she would go, how she would work her way through the city, subconsciously smacking into all the spots where they had been, where they laughed and cried. He felt singed by the past, burned raw by its instant combustion of seeing her here again. Every single step towards her was cracking apart his encased self.
Jake felt her wince as she roared past the Jamba Juice store they hit after yoga. She nearly tripped passing the noodle shop, stumbling by her nail place where she took him to get a pedicure, and finally collapsed at the park. Amber had always loved this park and now it was poisoned, full of horrors that lingered inside her mind. Inside her heart.
"7!"
Amber lay crumpled on the ground as groups walked her by, assuming her to be an emotional drunken mess. Which she was. And this made her start to hate Jake, but only for an instant, before that spite turned in on herself. She gave in and let her body heave in sobbing spasms, dry heaving and coughing up all the Jake she had left in her.
Jake slowed to a walk as he saw her completely defeated. Weak. Powerless and full of utter despair, she kneeled there, her hair a mess, her legs bruised and bloody. This was an Amber that he knew well. One he hadnt seen in forever. Vulnerable. He slowed the closer he came to her. Jake looked down with watery, sympathetic eyes.
"6!"
Jake knelt down beside her and drew her into his chest. Amber didnt resist. She felt him pull her in as he lowered himself down beside her. It felt like giving up, like admitting defeat, and most of all it felt good. It felt right. The crying grew in intensity as he held her closer and closer.
Amber eventually looked over at Jake through the veil of her long hair. He wasnt smiling that condescending smile. He wasnt here because she needed him. He wasnt smug or passive aggressive or trying to make her smile. He was just there, holding her, not solving her problems or making things right. He was just there.
"5!"
They both got up to their feet and slowly began to walk to a bench. His arm was still gripping her tight, with hers wrapped around his midsection. They dropped down onto the bench and amid the chaos of this night they looked at each other naked, exposed, like they did so many nights, so many years ago.
Neither of them knew what to say. They both began words only to have to clear their throat, or slip into tears again. Instead they looked away and took in the scene around them. Dancing and singing and jubilation as only New Years Eve can provide. It was everywhere. Celebration and declarations bloomed all around. Everyone was happy. And so were they.
"4!"
They walked arm in arm, occasionally holding pinkies when they needed some space, but coming back to holding each other as they walked downtown together. Like magnets, first drawn to each other, they were now being led to a destination. A specific place that they both knew that the other knew. So there was no need for talking. Only walking.
The bus stop where he broke down in front of her after too much red wine. The supermarket they spent Sunday afternoons at. The dive bar they went to on their second date. The bagel place. The playground. Their favorite bar. The etched J & A that was now all but faded from the sidewalk they redid when they lived down here.
"3!"
They stopped outside the apartment building. They both looked up as if to confirm the number, but they both knew where they were. Right outside the bridge. Right where they had started. Only now, they were so far away from then, what could this possibly be but a farce. Some last cruel joke they were playing on each other. A place where they were one, at a time when they felt like less than nothing.
He brushed her hair from her face. She raised her trembling chin up. He looked her in the eyes and tears streamed from them both. But they didnt look away. Beneath the yellow light, outside the blue door, framed by the red bridge, they leaned in. Their eyelids shut as if they would never open again. Not on this world. Not where they wanted to be anymore.
"2!"
They kissed. A long, familiar kiss filled with emptiness, a shred of shared existence pressed between their mad lips. Jake and Amber began to dissolve and suddenly they were two strangers making out in a spontaneous, passionate fury, fighting each other with their battle-hardened hearts, and now, naked in emotional ecstasy. What was him in her, and her in him, was breathed into the other as their mouths closed slowly, their lips holding on, yet slipping away like the seconds in this final, beautiful moment.
"1!"
No, she couldnt say it like that.
"Jake!"
"Jake?"
"Jake."
An ocean of people surrounded Amber yet there she was, thrust in the middle of this crowd, and just twenty feet away from him. She had to say something didnt she? After all those dreams and signs that brought here back here. That brought her back to New York City.
Jake was lagging behind his friends and felt himself slipping away into invisible oblivion as the crowds swarmed around him. His head was down low, his feet dragged along the concrete. He barely noticed the couples that spun around him, dancing and celebrating and preparing to kiss this past year goodbye.
Amber walked up slowly as the masses cleared a path for her, destiny guiding her to him, to his embrace, to his arm draped around her, one hand upon the small of her back, the other holding her firmly against his body as his chin caressed the inside of her neck and his lip slid across her cheek before...
He thought of the last year, not of her, and wanted to lash out. Start a fight with this stupid world, kick the love out of them, punch away the dark, lonely hours spent locked in his apartment. Didnt he deserve to be happy? He just couldnt make himself content long enough for it to matter, long enough to last. Hollow empty hearts is all that he could sense around him, for it was all the lay within him.
Amber was within arms reach when she finally saw him. His shoulders were hunched forward, his head drooping low. She needed him, she would help him and then everything could be good again. She could feel complete once more. Her other half of her self was right in front of her. A touch of her hand was all it would take.
Jake whipped his head upward and began to scream at the top of his lungs. Amber stumbled backwards, her hand in mid-journey through the space between them. A few drunken partiers caught her as they all stood dumbstruck at the guy yelling with all his might at the cruel joke that is this universe.
"I HATE YOU AMBER!"
The noise of the crowd rose and Jakes proclamation was lost to the sonic tidal wave of the New Years countdown. He felt his chest and caught his breath. No one seemed to even notice, the world not batting an eye at this revelatory outpouring of a year, no almost a decade of frustration and hurt.
"10!"
Jake felt something on the back of his mind; A sad and crushed hope for anything good to come of this next year, of these next decades, of the rest of his life. But then he realized he wasnt alone, somehow, feeling that there was someone in the universe that felt the pain that he was feeling. He turned around.
Amber was also turning around, away from him, and smashing her way through the shiny, happy people, with their eyes aglow with the possibilities of endless happiness. Jake saw her running away and immediately went to reach out for her, to call her name, to scream it once more.
"9!"
Amber burst out of the crowd and into the empty street, bolting across through a wash of tears. Jake thought he should let her go. Let her run away. He did hate her. He hated having to think of her, and hope that shes okay, and that shes happy. He despised himself for being so weak so as to regret what felt so right a minute ago. Wasnt it more than appropriate that she be here to hear it? To hear how he really felt about that damn girl that has infected him, brought him low, made him cry his eyes out?
Amber ran and ran. She blew through Bryant Park where they saw that Robert Redford flick, the subway stop where he took her picture for the first time, the goddamn fountain where they stopped and kissed. She ran down wherever there was an empty space for her, heading nowhere in particular, but everywhere she needed to collect the hurt. This city was full of lost memories, a minefield of moments.
"8!"
Jake shoved his way out into the street and took after her. He knew where she would go, how she would work her way through the city, subconsciously smacking into all the spots where they had been, where they laughed and cried. He felt singed by the past, burned raw by its instant combustion of seeing her here again. Every single step towards her was cracking apart his encased self.
Jake felt her wince as she roared past the Jamba Juice store they hit after yoga. She nearly tripped passing the noodle shop, stumbling by her nail place where she took him to get a pedicure, and finally collapsed at the park. Amber had always loved this park and now it was poisoned, full of horrors that lingered inside her mind. Inside her heart.
"7!"
Amber lay crumpled on the ground as groups walked her by, assuming her to be an emotional drunken mess. Which she was. And this made her start to hate Jake, but only for an instant, before that spite turned in on herself. She gave in and let her body heave in sobbing spasms, dry heaving and coughing up all the Jake she had left in her.
Jake slowed to a walk as he saw her completely defeated. Weak. Powerless and full of utter despair, she kneeled there, her hair a mess, her legs bruised and bloody. This was an Amber that he knew well. One he hadnt seen in forever. Vulnerable. He slowed the closer he came to her. Jake looked down with watery, sympathetic eyes.
"6!"
Jake knelt down beside her and drew her into his chest. Amber didnt resist. She felt him pull her in as he lowered himself down beside her. It felt like giving up, like admitting defeat, and most of all it felt good. It felt right. The crying grew in intensity as he held her closer and closer.
Amber eventually looked over at Jake through the veil of her long hair. He wasnt smiling that condescending smile. He wasnt here because she needed him. He wasnt smug or passive aggressive or trying to make her smile. He was just there, holding her, not solving her problems or making things right. He was just there.
"5!"
They both got up to their feet and slowly began to walk to a bench. His arm was still gripping her tight, with hers wrapped around his midsection. They dropped down onto the bench and amid the chaos of this night they looked at each other naked, exposed, like they did so many nights, so many years ago.
Neither of them knew what to say. They both began words only to have to clear their throat, or slip into tears again. Instead they looked away and took in the scene around them. Dancing and singing and jubilation as only New Years Eve can provide. It was everywhere. Celebration and declarations bloomed all around. Everyone was happy. And so were they.
"4!"
They walked arm in arm, occasionally holding pinkies when they needed some space, but coming back to holding each other as they walked downtown together. Like magnets, first drawn to each other, they were now being led to a destination. A specific place that they both knew that the other knew. So there was no need for talking. Only walking.
The bus stop where he broke down in front of her after too much red wine. The supermarket they spent Sunday afternoons at. The dive bar they went to on their second date. The bagel place. The playground. Their favorite bar. The etched J & A that was now all but faded from the sidewalk they redid when they lived down here.
"3!"
They stopped outside the apartment building. They both looked up as if to confirm the number, but they both knew where they were. Right outside the bridge. Right where they had started. Only now, they were so far away from then, what could this possibly be but a farce. Some last cruel joke they were playing on each other. A place where they were one, at a time when they felt like less than nothing.
He brushed her hair from her face. She raised her trembling chin up. He looked her in the eyes and tears streamed from them both. But they didnt look away. Beneath the yellow light, outside the blue door, framed by the red bridge, they leaned in. Their eyelids shut as if they would never open again. Not on this world. Not where they wanted to be anymore.
"2!"
They kissed. A long, familiar kiss filled with emptiness, a shred of shared existence pressed between their mad lips. Jake and Amber began to dissolve and suddenly they were two strangers making out in a spontaneous, passionate fury, fighting each other with their battle-hardened hearts, and now, naked in emotional ecstasy. What was him in her, and her in him, was breathed into the other as their mouths closed slowly, their lips holding on, yet slipping away like the seconds in this final, beautiful moment.
"1!"
When the Universe Ends. Act 2. Lunch.
Outdoor patio. Vodka cranberry's chasing the salad. Amber was crumbling. Jenn and Thom were chatting away as she filled her mouth with lettuce. Her eyes danced over the foiliage that decorated the beautiful California day. But she would not look at him. Not at his eyes.
Jake adjusted his glasses. He willed his hands not to shake as he slurped his soup. Thankfully his hair was hanging a tad long so as to hide her from his view. Why is she here? Jake wondered if she was as striking as she was in that dive East Village bar nearly a decade ago. Or did the years and travel craft her into that woman he wished that girl to be?
"Jake, remember that girl we met at that reading for that off-Broadway show? The blonde who played the mistress?"
"Um. The, uh, one that invited us to the rooftop party?"
"Yeah. What's her name?"
Jake swallowed hard and slowly turned his head towards the one person who ever loved him. The silly, sappy, crybaby that always had to get her way with a pout and a scrunching of her nose. Those damn pajama pants and the pint of Phish Food. Stevie Ray Vaughn playing in the background. She drove him crazy but here she was, blossomed into such an amazing woman that he didn't even deserve to look upon.
"Amber."
His goddamn eyes, Amber screamed.
"Right," snapped Thom, "Amber Mills. Anyway this chick is perfect for the part..."
Amber felt herself melt inside. Behind those lenses, blue-green memories. I hate him. I hate that he makes me feel this way. Amber had shuddered when she heard her name come from his lips. Those damn lips. Lying bastard lips that sold her on a life that she didn't have. Amber closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"You okay?" Jake had leaned in and near whispered.
"Fine. Just allergies." Amber dropped her hand to her side. She kept her eyes down. She could see his hands.
Jake reached up and took off his glasses. His lips parted slowly as if he were about to say...
"Amber..."
Amber excused herself from the table as Thom and Jenn chattered on about location. Jake watched as she made her way to the restroom.
"New York is the way to go. You lose a certain...feeling if you switch it up."
"I'm telling you San Francisco is the heart of it. I know it'd work perfectly."
Jake made a small ruckus as he stood up and squeezed through towards the bathroom. As he rounded the corner Amber burst out of the bathroom. A near collision had set them both back on their heels. Caught off guard, they reach for their chests in a gasp to catch their breaths.
"Jake." It felt like an exclamation in her head.
"Listen, Amber...we should talk." He reached out for her arm. She felt familiar. Friendly.
Amber shirked back subtly from his outstretched hand. She shook her head in defiance and to clear her head. Who was he to be like this now? After all this time she felt a twang of resentment that rattled her.
"Forget it Jake. You know how this goes down between us. Why are you here even?" Amber looked away as she went to walk past him.
Jake grabbed her forearm in a caressing grip. Firm and confident. This isn't Jake. Who is this? Another bastard full of empty promises. Above Jake's fingers his eyes ran along her veins, pulsating with the rush of blood. "Don't. Please. We..."
Amber pulled her hand free and used it to fuel her anger. The anger at herself. No, at him. He broke your goddamn heart Amber. How could you forgive him? How can you forgive yourself for letting him in?
Jake turned away. He knew her. He should have gone a different way. Said something different, been different. I should just leave her alone. It's just pathetically selfish to want something from her now. After all this time. She was different. She was the same as ever.
"Forget it Jake. Forget what happened. It's history. I'm going back to the table."
She began walking away immediately as if to punctuate her statement. Jake's head swung around low and lonesome. She felt his cuteness behind her. She knew how he'd be using those damn eyes to get to her. Amber felt Jake's stare as if it were his fingers sliding through her hair, rubbing down her back, brushing against her neck.
"Goodbye Amber."
Jake adjusted his glasses. He willed his hands not to shake as he slurped his soup. Thankfully his hair was hanging a tad long so as to hide her from his view. Why is she here? Jake wondered if she was as striking as she was in that dive East Village bar nearly a decade ago. Or did the years and travel craft her into that woman he wished that girl to be?
"Jake, remember that girl we met at that reading for that off-Broadway show? The blonde who played the mistress?"
"Um. The, uh, one that invited us to the rooftop party?"
"Yeah. What's her name?"
Jake swallowed hard and slowly turned his head towards the one person who ever loved him. The silly, sappy, crybaby that always had to get her way with a pout and a scrunching of her nose. Those damn pajama pants and the pint of Phish Food. Stevie Ray Vaughn playing in the background. She drove him crazy but here she was, blossomed into such an amazing woman that he didn't even deserve to look upon.
"Amber."
His goddamn eyes, Amber screamed.
"Right," snapped Thom, "Amber Mills. Anyway this chick is perfect for the part..."
Amber felt herself melt inside. Behind those lenses, blue-green memories. I hate him. I hate that he makes me feel this way. Amber had shuddered when she heard her name come from his lips. Those damn lips. Lying bastard lips that sold her on a life that she didn't have. Amber closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"You okay?" Jake had leaned in and near whispered.
"Fine. Just allergies." Amber dropped her hand to her side. She kept her eyes down. She could see his hands.
Jake reached up and took off his glasses. His lips parted slowly as if he were about to say...
"Amber..."
Amber excused herself from the table as Thom and Jenn chattered on about location. Jake watched as she made her way to the restroom.
"New York is the way to go. You lose a certain...feeling if you switch it up."
"I'm telling you San Francisco is the heart of it. I know it'd work perfectly."
Jake made a small ruckus as he stood up and squeezed through towards the bathroom. As he rounded the corner Amber burst out of the bathroom. A near collision had set them both back on their heels. Caught off guard, they reach for their chests in a gasp to catch their breaths.
"Jake." It felt like an exclamation in her head.
"Listen, Amber...we should talk." He reached out for her arm. She felt familiar. Friendly.
Amber shirked back subtly from his outstretched hand. She shook her head in defiance and to clear her head. Who was he to be like this now? After all this time she felt a twang of resentment that rattled her.
"Forget it Jake. You know how this goes down between us. Why are you here even?" Amber looked away as she went to walk past him.
Jake grabbed her forearm in a caressing grip. Firm and confident. This isn't Jake. Who is this? Another bastard full of empty promises. Above Jake's fingers his eyes ran along her veins, pulsating with the rush of blood. "Don't. Please. We..."
Amber pulled her hand free and used it to fuel her anger. The anger at herself. No, at him. He broke your goddamn heart Amber. How could you forgive him? How can you forgive yourself for letting him in?
Jake turned away. He knew her. He should have gone a different way. Said something different, been different. I should just leave her alone. It's just pathetically selfish to want something from her now. After all this time. She was different. She was the same as ever.
"Forget it Jake. Forget what happened. It's history. I'm going back to the table."
She began walking away immediately as if to punctuate her statement. Jake's head swung around low and lonesome. She felt his cuteness behind her. She knew how he'd be using those damn eyes to get to her. Amber felt Jake's stare as if it were his fingers sliding through her hair, rubbing down her back, brushing against her neck.
"Goodbye Amber."
When the Universe Ends. Act 1. Life.
Jake and Amber were in love once. They became something different and then they parted ways. He stayed in the city and found a routine. Shesaw the world and found herself.
So on opposite sides of the world they started over and lived their lives. Jake began working for a company that had nothing but advancement opportunities and security. Amber started making her way with an assortment of odd jobs allowing her the freedom to explore. They hadn't spoken in eight years.
They stopped calling as the old patterns kept resurfacing no matter how hard they tried to remain civil. A birthday phone call became a fight, which seemed to defeat the original intention. Both came to the decision that it was less painful to let go.
Jake wouldn't have called if he hadn't met three Amber's earlier that week. A temp in the office had just been called in to replace a co-worker that had quit suddenly. Her name was Amber.
"That's funny." He said, more to himself.
"What's that?" she replied.
"Nothing." He dismissed the remainder of his thoughts with a shake of his head.
But these thoughts of the past wouldn't be shaken so easily. At lunch a day later the waitress; Amber. And at the bar that friday, the new bartender...Amber. Her name was suddenly everywhere at once. 'Had Amber always been such a popular name?' he wondered. He was beginning to question his sanity, when he dropped his address book that Sunday afternoon.
It had fallen open to her name and number. Well, the last known number he had for her. It was actually the number for a friend's apartment she was staying at in Australia years ago. He dialed and had the phone up to his ear before he realized it was ringing and that in one second she would answer and what exactly was he going to say.
"Hello?"
Hang up, that was the first instinct. But frozen in that moment, somehow he spoke. Words were coming out but what was it that was being said exactly.
"No, she hasn't lived here in...forever it seems."
"Oh, no?" Automatic reponse.
"No, but I still talk to her. She's been in India, working at a museum over there. Do you want me to give you her number?"
Jake hastily declined the offer and regretted it fully as he hung up.
Amber was running around, keeping herself busy, never stopping to think, not letting herself remember. Immersed in culture and sights, her head barely above the surface of herself, she was content in separation from everything familiar. Foreign nights, international friends, and not a Jake for ten thousand miles. Until that September in Beijing.
This Jake was everything her Jake wasn't. Every feature and characteristic about as polar opposite of the Jake that was somewhere back in her city, doing who knows what, with who knows who. The attraction was there from the moment they met. Through a mutual friend they had come together in a heated and passionate two weeks as they bounced from Taipei to Hong Kong.
She couldn't sleep. She looked in at this new Jake and then back out to this city that once beckoned her, and now seemed to haunt her. She had stopped for too long and now things were rushing back in to fill the spaces between India, Australia, Thailand, Russia, and Egypt. She felt like Amber, American Amber from the big city once again.
So she ran. She snuck out of the hotel, leapt into a cab and headed for the airport. Her hands were shaking and she snagged a pack of cigarettes at her first opportunity. Eight years of quitting gone down the drain in a moment. She smoked nearly the entire pack before she boarded the plane.
Where was she going? She had bought a one way ticket with the rest of the credit she had but she wasn't sure exactly where she was headed. Glancing down at the ticket she realized she was headed back to America. Thankfully the money she had was only enough to get her to California. At least it was the wrong coast. At least.
The captain's name was Jake on that flight. The cab driver that picked her up from LAX was also named Jake. Amber showed up at her friend's apartment with her one bag and a head full of Jake.
Jake had been dating off and on for the last eight months. he made every effort to look for girls that wouldn't look like her, talk like her, remind him of her, but it seemed impossible. Underneath their exteriors they all became her in the end. And it hurt.
It was a scab that he kept accidently ripping off. She seemed to be every girl in this damn city and how could he escape her. It wasn't just the New York senisibilities that he couldn't shake once he got to know each girl.
Beth, the cute Asian girl he had met that night he saw that cover band with Jon. She had the same glasses and sounded just like her on the phone. The psyche student, Kelly, had the same last name and grew up in the same town as her. Jake had to run when he realized that Eve had her old phone number.
Thom was headed out to Hollywood to pitch a project and Jake needed to clear his head. He took those built up vacation days and headed out to the West Coast to forget about her.
Amber was working as an underling on a Lifetime original movie filming within walking distance from Jenn's house in Los Angeles. Amber had forgotten all about him by now, having made the rounds of LA. Enough slimeballs, losers, and wannabe actors had turned her off to dating altogether and so she plunged herself into working.
Amber's bank account was growing and she had just about enough to put down for a new, modest, apartment in Santa Monica. Other than occasionally hitting a few quiet bars with the girls, she mostly cradled a bottle of red wine and read every book she could get her hands on.
It all fell apart in a day.
So on opposite sides of the world they started over and lived their lives. Jake began working for a company that had nothing but advancement opportunities and security. Amber started making her way with an assortment of odd jobs allowing her the freedom to explore. They hadn't spoken in eight years.
They stopped calling as the old patterns kept resurfacing no matter how hard they tried to remain civil. A birthday phone call became a fight, which seemed to defeat the original intention. Both came to the decision that it was less painful to let go.
Jake wouldn't have called if he hadn't met three Amber's earlier that week. A temp in the office had just been called in to replace a co-worker that had quit suddenly. Her name was Amber.
"That's funny." He said, more to himself.
"What's that?" she replied.
"Nothing." He dismissed the remainder of his thoughts with a shake of his head.
But these thoughts of the past wouldn't be shaken so easily. At lunch a day later the waitress; Amber. And at the bar that friday, the new bartender...Amber. Her name was suddenly everywhere at once. 'Had Amber always been such a popular name?' he wondered. He was beginning to question his sanity, when he dropped his address book that Sunday afternoon.
It had fallen open to her name and number. Well, the last known number he had for her. It was actually the number for a friend's apartment she was staying at in Australia years ago. He dialed and had the phone up to his ear before he realized it was ringing and that in one second she would answer and what exactly was he going to say.
"Hello?"
Hang up, that was the first instinct. But frozen in that moment, somehow he spoke. Words were coming out but what was it that was being said exactly.
"No, she hasn't lived here in...forever it seems."
"Oh, no?" Automatic reponse.
"No, but I still talk to her. She's been in India, working at a museum over there. Do you want me to give you her number?"
Jake hastily declined the offer and regretted it fully as he hung up.
Amber was running around, keeping herself busy, never stopping to think, not letting herself remember. Immersed in culture and sights, her head barely above the surface of herself, she was content in separation from everything familiar. Foreign nights, international friends, and not a Jake for ten thousand miles. Until that September in Beijing.
This Jake was everything her Jake wasn't. Every feature and characteristic about as polar opposite of the Jake that was somewhere back in her city, doing who knows what, with who knows who. The attraction was there from the moment they met. Through a mutual friend they had come together in a heated and passionate two weeks as they bounced from Taipei to Hong Kong.
She couldn't sleep. She looked in at this new Jake and then back out to this city that once beckoned her, and now seemed to haunt her. She had stopped for too long and now things were rushing back in to fill the spaces between India, Australia, Thailand, Russia, and Egypt. She felt like Amber, American Amber from the big city once again.
So she ran. She snuck out of the hotel, leapt into a cab and headed for the airport. Her hands were shaking and she snagged a pack of cigarettes at her first opportunity. Eight years of quitting gone down the drain in a moment. She smoked nearly the entire pack before she boarded the plane.
Where was she going? She had bought a one way ticket with the rest of the credit she had but she wasn't sure exactly where she was headed. Glancing down at the ticket she realized she was headed back to America. Thankfully the money she had was only enough to get her to California. At least it was the wrong coast. At least.
The captain's name was Jake on that flight. The cab driver that picked her up from LAX was also named Jake. Amber showed up at her friend's apartment with her one bag and a head full of Jake.
Jake had been dating off and on for the last eight months. he made every effort to look for girls that wouldn't look like her, talk like her, remind him of her, but it seemed impossible. Underneath their exteriors they all became her in the end. And it hurt.
It was a scab that he kept accidently ripping off. She seemed to be every girl in this damn city and how could he escape her. It wasn't just the New York senisibilities that he couldn't shake once he got to know each girl.
Beth, the cute Asian girl he had met that night he saw that cover band with Jon. She had the same glasses and sounded just like her on the phone. The psyche student, Kelly, had the same last name and grew up in the same town as her. Jake had to run when he realized that Eve had her old phone number.
Thom was headed out to Hollywood to pitch a project and Jake needed to clear his head. He took those built up vacation days and headed out to the West Coast to forget about her.
Amber was working as an underling on a Lifetime original movie filming within walking distance from Jenn's house in Los Angeles. Amber had forgotten all about him by now, having made the rounds of LA. Enough slimeballs, losers, and wannabe actors had turned her off to dating altogether and so she plunged herself into working.
Amber's bank account was growing and she had just about enough to put down for a new, modest, apartment in Santa Monica. Other than occasionally hitting a few quiet bars with the girls, she mostly cradled a bottle of red wine and read every book she could get her hands on.
It all fell apart in a day.
essential existence
Peering from out around the corner for no more than three tenths of a second, his eyes had registered the entire scene. Bastard Jackson was twenty yards away, discount blue suit, fortyfive caliber under his arm. My partner was cuffed before him in a swivel office chair, her feet bound in rope, playing out some sadistic secret scene.
"this shit can't go on."
My squirt gun pulsated with a warm green glow. Action Satisfaction Guaranteed!
Slo-mo ripples carried me effortlessly across the hall, pushing off sideways on the wall, spinning as I aimed the squirter and squeezed.
Peripheral radar automatically notified Bastard Jackson's jacket to flap upwards allowing his pneumatic hand access to the 45 that lie between us. Disco danger fired from the barrel of his gun, sending snippets of jive careening off the walls around me.
My slo-mo ration was running low and third speed time would be kicking back in any second...now...
Sound snaps like a rubber band in my cochleas as I fire off the last of my round, the squirter now clear and plastic in my hands. Time adjusts itself and I find myself unsure of the outcome, swimming through a samurai cliche.
Bastard Jackson implodes as the contradictory non-sequiters I fired into his frontal lobe tear down his entire reason, his very purpose, his essential existence.
"this shit can't go on."
My squirt gun pulsated with a warm green glow. Action Satisfaction Guaranteed!
Slo-mo ripples carried me effortlessly across the hall, pushing off sideways on the wall, spinning as I aimed the squirter and squeezed.
Peripheral radar automatically notified Bastard Jackson's jacket to flap upwards allowing his pneumatic hand access to the 45 that lie between us. Disco danger fired from the barrel of his gun, sending snippets of jive careening off the walls around me.
My slo-mo ration was running low and third speed time would be kicking back in any second...now...
Sound snaps like a rubber band in my cochleas as I fire off the last of my round, the squirter now clear and plastic in my hands. Time adjusts itself and I find myself unsure of the outcome, swimming through a samurai cliche.
Bastard Jackson implodes as the contradictory non-sequiters I fired into his frontal lobe tear down his entire reason, his very purpose, his essential existence.
ticking tocking midnight rocking vs. DESTROY ALL STORIES!
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"About life. About everything. The Universe."
"Ahhh...that's great. Helpful information for us all."
I bitchslapped that cynical ninny that has the same internal address as my more well-mannered self. I brushed off my shoulders, and went ahead with cracking the safe.
The tumblers all tiptoed around in my ear as I listened for the one misstep, that fatal flaw in their dance. They all slid into place and the safe opened with a dusty yawn. Inside was the most amazing and personal items that this resident had done his best to secure away from prying eyes.
"The safe is just the front. The real juicy stuff will be hidden in a shoebox or sumptin'."
"Shut it, you ninny!"
I rumaged through the safe, fondling the private securities of Occupant. Legal documents, some jewelry, and financial papers. Hooboy, we better slow down here. Perhaps the ninny was correct. Be there better booty in a mere box?
Under the bed seemed too easy but I checked it first. I didn't want to search the rest of the place only to find it was in the most boring, unoriginal spot. Nagging uncertainty now quieted, I began to search the house with my chainsaw.
One giant room always seemed like a better idea than a bunch of little rooms. I hope Resident agrees, as I did take some effort to remove the walls. Now that I had some room to think, I could easily find this mythical black box of hidden secrets. Closets were engulfed in flames, cabinets smashed with sledgehammers, and desks splintered into ruins. Still no piece of a life was to be found.
"Well now. I guess we're proper fooked. We've come this far and now we don't have an ending, much less a point."
"I told you this would happen. I did. I said it before we left."
"You didn't say squat, you just stuffed your face full of chippers and then gave me a purple nurple."
"Yeah, well that's my way of saying, 'Don't leave the house today, there's no sign of life out there.' That's what that means."
Suddenly, we turned and found ourselves looking down the business end of an electric bastardstabber. It was curled up right beneath my left nostril. I swear, I didn't hear shat. Well, not until I saw the Motherfuckers.
The Motherfuckers' ship roared through the Intellisphere, blissfully sailing the currents. That's when they spotted us, sitting about, fucking around, not doing much of anything really. For shits and giggles they punched through into this nonsensical fiction.
The ship, StabbedToDeath, was a curved phallic symbol, fistfucking its way through the creative landscape. It's mighty hull is said to have withstood a barrage of blasts from the Rodentia Maxmillion Army, whatever the fuck that is. Shitting below, engulfed in StabbedToDeath's mighty shadow, I spasmatically jerked my head towards its captain and crew.
General Atrocity drove a steel spike, twelve inches long, through my liver. MercyMary removed my most vital vertebrae. Rampaging Bile gnawed on my fingers, snarling all the while. Several Seconds blew the right side of my face off, yet I didn't see a gun or a bullet or anything much else after that. And that's when it got scary.
Such a raw concept like the Motherfuckers can not be bound, not by the likes of me anyway. I'm a throwaway. A voice that has said nothing and is nothing. A few letters in between quotes, the barest semblance of life. So when my meager physical senses were destroyed, then they went to work on me.
"I told you to stay home and watch movies."
"Shut up you ninny."
"About life. About everything. The Universe."
"Ahhh...that's great. Helpful information for us all."
I bitchslapped that cynical ninny that has the same internal address as my more well-mannered self. I brushed off my shoulders, and went ahead with cracking the safe.
The tumblers all tiptoed around in my ear as I listened for the one misstep, that fatal flaw in their dance. They all slid into place and the safe opened with a dusty yawn. Inside was the most amazing and personal items that this resident had done his best to secure away from prying eyes.
"The safe is just the front. The real juicy stuff will be hidden in a shoebox or sumptin'."
"Shut it, you ninny!"
I rumaged through the safe, fondling the private securities of Occupant. Legal documents, some jewelry, and financial papers. Hooboy, we better slow down here. Perhaps the ninny was correct. Be there better booty in a mere box?
Under the bed seemed too easy but I checked it first. I didn't want to search the rest of the place only to find it was in the most boring, unoriginal spot. Nagging uncertainty now quieted, I began to search the house with my chainsaw.
One giant room always seemed like a better idea than a bunch of little rooms. I hope Resident agrees, as I did take some effort to remove the walls. Now that I had some room to think, I could easily find this mythical black box of hidden secrets. Closets were engulfed in flames, cabinets smashed with sledgehammers, and desks splintered into ruins. Still no piece of a life was to be found.
"Well now. I guess we're proper fooked. We've come this far and now we don't have an ending, much less a point."
"I told you this would happen. I did. I said it before we left."
"You didn't say squat, you just stuffed your face full of chippers and then gave me a purple nurple."
"Yeah, well that's my way of saying, 'Don't leave the house today, there's no sign of life out there.' That's what that means."
Suddenly, we turned and found ourselves looking down the business end of an electric bastardstabber. It was curled up right beneath my left nostril. I swear, I didn't hear shat. Well, not until I saw the Motherfuckers.
The Motherfuckers' ship roared through the Intellisphere, blissfully sailing the currents. That's when they spotted us, sitting about, fucking around, not doing much of anything really. For shits and giggles they punched through into this nonsensical fiction.
The ship, StabbedToDeath, was a curved phallic symbol, fistfucking its way through the creative landscape. It's mighty hull is said to have withstood a barrage of blasts from the Rodentia Maxmillion Army, whatever the fuck that is. Shitting below, engulfed in StabbedToDeath's mighty shadow, I spasmatically jerked my head towards its captain and crew.
General Atrocity drove a steel spike, twelve inches long, through my liver. MercyMary removed my most vital vertebrae. Rampaging Bile gnawed on my fingers, snarling all the while. Several Seconds blew the right side of my face off, yet I didn't see a gun or a bullet or anything much else after that. And that's when it got scary.
Such a raw concept like the Motherfuckers can not be bound, not by the likes of me anyway. I'm a throwaway. A voice that has said nothing and is nothing. A few letters in between quotes, the barest semblance of life. So when my meager physical senses were destroyed, then they went to work on me.
"I told you to stay home and watch movies."
"Shut up you ninny."
SEX, DRUGS, & COMICBOOKS...
Or How I Spent the End of this Aeon
The elevator 'DING'ed, the doors began to open, and I was bathed in the warm glow of digital- fluorescence. The gentle humming of ten thousand portable digicams all simultaneously capturing my arrival soothed my soul. These cams all zapped my super-sexual visage to the teeming masses, who nail-bitingly sat with baited breath, slumped over monitors, salivating at the merest hint of my ungodly appearance. I was wearing my RockStarSelf™, complete with my retro-MourningBlue™ mohawk, and matching FauxFur jacket. The kids love it. I was using Pose 17, a personal favorite, as it was the one I used on my first Rolling Stone cover. The shimmering elevator doors were dramatically pulling back to reveal the top floor of New York's Kirby Convention Centre. (I purposely had them slow the gears of the doors down so as to tease my fans to a near orgasmic state. I like to start strong and go from there.) This was my twenty third convention appearance of the season and I still got that raging hard-on I always get when making my entrance. I always wondered where I'd be when it all came down. And here I was, the night of December 20th, 2012 at the fifth annual NYC Comicbook Convention. Twelve hours to Doomsday!
The elevator 'DING'ed, the doors began to open, and I was bathed in the warm glow of digital- fluorescence. The gentle humming of ten thousand portable digicams all simultaneously capturing my arrival soothed my soul. These cams all zapped my super-sexual visage to the teeming masses, who nail-bitingly sat with baited breath, slumped over monitors, salivating at the merest hint of my ungodly appearance. I was wearing my RockStarSelf™, complete with my retro-MourningBlue™ mohawk, and matching FauxFur jacket. The kids love it. I was using Pose 17, a personal favorite, as it was the one I used on my first Rolling Stone cover. The shimmering elevator doors were dramatically pulling back to reveal the top floor of New York's Kirby Convention Centre. (I purposely had them slow the gears of the doors down so as to tease my fans to a near orgasmic state. I like to start strong and go from there.) This was my twenty third convention appearance of the season and I still got that raging hard-on I always get when making my entrance. I always wondered where I'd be when it all came down. And here I was, the night of December 20th, 2012 at the fifth annual NYC Comicbook Convention. Twelve hours to Doomsday!
write your own damn ending
Um…hello? Not sure if you can hear me…
…or that there's even anyone there listening.
I don't know if you remember me, but you were writing something, guiding me along my life. I'm not sure what happened, if you're ok or not, but it seems like we haven't been able to continue on here. My entire life has been put on pause and it feels like a fictional hell. My problems are here and I'm stuck living them day in and out. I never seem to get a resolution. There never seems to be an end to my suffering.
I thought that we had plans, that we were working towards something. Something grand that would have been soul-cleansing for us both. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I know you gave me everything and I should be grateful…and I am. But I just want an ending. Nothing too spectacular. I know the huge plans we both had, and man that would have been amazing. But for the sake of the times we did share…just….please…release me from this.
I never asked to be cast down here. Bound to these pages in a folder, floating in suspended literation as the tumblings of bits on your hard drive. I am your eternal prisoner, a captive of your words, snippets of dreamself given shape as something you dismiss so callously.
I love you for my creation and I hate you for leaving me here.
I'll write my own damn ending.
…or that there's even anyone there listening.
I don't know if you remember me, but you were writing something, guiding me along my life. I'm not sure what happened, if you're ok or not, but it seems like we haven't been able to continue on here. My entire life has been put on pause and it feels like a fictional hell. My problems are here and I'm stuck living them day in and out. I never seem to get a resolution. There never seems to be an end to my suffering.
I thought that we had plans, that we were working towards something. Something grand that would have been soul-cleansing for us both. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I know you gave me everything and I should be grateful…and I am. But I just want an ending. Nothing too spectacular. I know the huge plans we both had, and man that would have been amazing. But for the sake of the times we did share…just….please…release me from this.
I never asked to be cast down here. Bound to these pages in a folder, floating in suspended literation as the tumblings of bits on your hard drive. I am your eternal prisoner, a captive of your words, snippets of dreamself given shape as something you dismiss so callously.
I love you for my creation and I hate you for leaving me here.
I'll write my own damn ending.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
