And each man looked into the glass and saw something different and it strove fear into their hearts and perplexed them, not because of what they saw but because each saw something that could not be explained or understood.
The farther you pull back,
The less it all seems to mean,
But looking in on a moment,
Bears all the significance.
The lights of a moving carousel,
the smell of pine and fried dough,
Smiles that wont go away,
Standing on the grassy dew covered hill and looking up at the fabric above,’
And not having to wonder alone.
Sky rocketing through the clouds and weaving among comets towards the vast uncertainty of the big ocean of reality,
Peering out from the cramped cockpit at a flinging tendril of star energy,
Not minding the close spaces or the empty floating candy wrappers in the cabin,
Or the crumbs, or the love.
There are filters after all.
Walking across alien landscapes and marveling together at odd temples covered with blue lichen,
Reaching for each other under a green sky,
and being human in a strange, futuristic land,
on another planet,
in the emptiness of all space,
two specks in the multitudes,
Knowing that when you pull away it all seems like nothing,
But here and now,
Is all that is.
all that is needed.
Where does the wind go?
Where does the time go?
When will the sun stay,
always in the sky?
I feel that there’s a rhythm,
and the song will never end,
but I know that there’s an ending
I just don’t know when.
I hope that one day then,
when it all comes crashing down,
I can see the lands where all that time had gone to,
and where the winds are all around,
where the sun shines every morning,
and a song.
If there should be a higher dimension to go to,
and more dimensions below,
am I still in the beginning,
or am I near their height?
I must be somewhere in the middle.
Living out this strange life.
With a sigh she opened the screen and the lights dazzled across her face. Entering through the pathway into another world. A place of magic or intensity, life, and drama. Not like reality. Somehow reality was less vibrant. Looking around all of the surfaces and corners of her apartment, the usual tree outside by the stoop where she would suck down a cigarette to bookend experiences. None of it penetrated her. Other people were flat unchanging beings except by location. Somehow all of her friends just felt like a far away collection of vague faces in the haze of a humming backdrop to it all.
So she spent her time watching videos, collecting more and more information from the little box who she began to think of as more of a friend. Her and her computer. “Hey that could be a show!” she’d think, nothing about a computer and a girl as romping friends could be bad. They could talk about memes together and joke about how in those fleeting moments where the girl was an artist, that her self–confidence was a wreck and she was better off just getting back on youtube or whatever.
The thought circled around and she almost got up to write it down but then she really wanted to see how the finale would end. The memory of the her and her computer friend faded until it was unreal, faded into the humming blur where all her friends lived along with the collection of a million other possible experiences. Hours between walls and watching the glowing rectangle. As sleep gnawed at her eyes and she could feel herself wasting away. Still she managed to raise a finger and tap for one more hit.
Death would dawn on her as season six was in its climax. “I only get one life.” the thought said to her. But it seemed so wrong. How could she only get one life when she had experienced so many lives. Even history in grade school covered a vast swathe of lives. Literature, movies, comics, all worlds to enter, to jump into. ONE life? that’s absurd.
But the pang of mortality would return as she watched the screen unblinking. “This is it, I’m using this time right now.” she shook her head and went back to the world, hoping, wishing that the lights could just make her forget who she was, what she was, and what she knew. she wanted to fade into this make believe world that some caffeinated room of writers had made piecemeal for some executive who cut half of it out and sent it off to a social coordinator to get “sharability” or whatever the FUCK they call it.
She was scared. And fear drove her to seek to forget as a matter of course. Why confront a fear you can do nothing about? How do you stop the time from slipping away? How do you keep from dying? You act like you want it. You become lethargic.
It was always amazing how hours could tick by. re-runs, re-watching, re blogging, re-entering the world of these people who had so much more beyond the surface level. She smiled at the jokes, wrapped herself in comfort, while the endless cavalcade of stimulus lulled her further and further away from herself.
She watched and she forgot to live until all the world felt like one great watching.
It was all one big show and everyone was always on it.
but it was real.
It’s over now, go click on something else.
There was a hum to the room. It wasn’t loud, but it was there, and its funny how that can be enough. I didn’t really notice it the first few times, but once I did hear it, I couldn’t put it back. You could say that’s like a “knowledge is power and power corrupts” kinda thing, but I’m not really here to make those kinds of thoughts. I have them, it’s all there, but recently, it’s all just become a big tangled mess. The feelings are there but I can’t put them into words, I can’t explain them to people. People, other people. I’m not good with people, unless it’s at the surface level, but I guess who isn’t? There are a lot of them, each an enigma that I can’t figure out. Like the source of the hum.
I’m not sure if there’s a hum for anyone else, but I hear it. If I don’t think about it it’s nothing, not there, it’s all clear. But the backdrop, the background noise, the static of all that I know and all that I’ve thought in pure, raw, uncut feeling in the back of my mind. I don’t know if anyone else knows it, acknowledges it. I don’t think I’m special or anything for pointing it out, but usually there’s like a switch that turns these kinds of thoughts off when I’m with other people. We need to have some way to bridge the gap. And the real problem I might have with people is that if we are all the same, and they are just like me, what do they make of it all?
Anyway, I sat back in the chair and let the hum overtake me until it was all over the room. Until it overshadowed all rational thoughts and my mind felt like there was no lucidity anymore. Cognition taken over by screens and words and thoughts and displays that swirled in my head until it was a wonder that there was any output at all. I just don’t know anymore. I need something grounding, something to take the edge off the thoughts before I start.
Maybe I spend too much time alone. In this room, with the hum, It’s just normal, comforting. I don’t know anything anymore. There is only faith, for whatever it’s worth. Everyone’s pretty quick to snuff out faith these days. Optimists might as well be idiots. No, everyone’s so tripped up on proving how smart they are to everyone. “See the reality that everything is awful?” That might be fine when the talky switch is on, but at night when it’s just you and your thoughts…well…at least there’s youtube right?
Just keep pushing out accepting it all for as long as you can. Feel content in your world. Run away from pain. Don’t feel things. Just Cope.
I wanted desperately to take a pull of something. I could feel it all coming up from the hum in my bedroom. The static. Maybe scratching that itch would clear it up?
It’s all just a cycle.
This is what’s kept me from quitting.
I just had to ride it out.
The radio sputtered with static. Garbled voices of various pitches whirred into focus and then away with the rapid switch between stations. A band of blue green light waved with the frequencies in the center of the console behind scratched and dirty glass. The green numbered preset buttons below stood at attention between two knobs outlined with neon orange against the darkness of the cabin.
The static waved like rain on a metal roof, became interlaced with pops and waves, or receded for a moment to give way to the muffled voice of some alien creature. Nothing clear or decipherable could be heard. In the vast world of radio frequencies, nothing was picked up by the device.
Lynda swiveled her chair away from the window.
“It’s busted. Why do you keep trying.” Her crossed arms ignored the brown canvas of the puffy foam passenger chair. Beyond the glass behind her, the neon lights of the spaceway and other ships in the night moved quickly across the stars.
“You don’t have any appreciation for frequency jumping do you?” Said Grivo. The little fox looking alien stood on the edge of the pilot’s chair, his claws digging into the imitation leather material. One of his furry hands was on the console of the radio and the other held the wheel. His face was alight with an animal curiosity at the radio while the frequency band reflected blue green off of his dark glistening eyes.
The sounds of the dead radio whirred and jumped some more around the hi-fi rigged surround sound system of the ship’s cabin. The strange and abstract noises from mysterious sources fell flatly on Lynda whose face somehow depressed further into her crossed arms. The blaring static and garbage noise polluted her mind with a rising landfill of rage until she snapped.
She flung her arms out at the little creature.
“CANT YOU PLEASE JUST PUT ON A SONG for gods… sake-”
Just at that moment, her wide eyes cooled. Her mouth hung open and her arm muscles relaxed as a driving back beat of pedal drum and bass guitar smited her. With crystalline clarity the groove arose from the sea of static. The song was graced with the presence of a guitar. It’s silver strings vibrating smoothly along the frets. A soft soulful saxophone meandered above it all. The notes hit her like heat to butter. A lone voice took over singing words in another language which could have meant anything to her.
The song had a magical effect on her until the saxophone’s solo was beginning to rise and a curtain of dense static dropped over the experience.
“Eh, not my favorite tune. Too lounge music don’t you think?” said Grivo turning the dials with a fervency once more.
“Hey! Change it back!” said Lynda
“Oh you liked it?”
“YES! That song was from Earth!”
Grivo looked back with a confused tilt.
“My home planet.”
The static continued around them, Grivo seemed to be thinking the same thing.
Lynda furrowed her brow. “It made me nostalgic.”
Grivo flicked his wrist and the music smoothly retook the cabin. Lynda sat back in the chair and swiveled it towards the window. Grivo let go of the dial and focused his eyes and both hands on piloting. The white and yellow electronic lines on the glass showed the safest lanes of travel as ships switched between them. Their thrusters were a myriad of colors.
“I have no idea what nostalgia is. But it must be nice for you humans. I ether like music or I don’t.” Said Grivo
“No.” Said Lynda “It’s not like that…it’s …well…uh…It’s that the music makes me think about other things. Nostalgia is like a kind of homesick…but for memories too…”
It was Grivo’s turn to furrow his brow. “Why would you want to be homesick?”
“It’s not like that- just- just forget it, lets just listen to the song in peace.” Said Lynda, her arms resuming their crossed position. She looked out the window at the approaching hyper-jump gate, in orbit around Gatamine while french smooth jazz played around the alien’s spaceship.
Part 2 —> http://bit.ly/1BxzbWa