- I couldn't think of anything better to ask than what was on her mp3 player. She took her time to answer. It seemed she only paused so she could figure out the level of honesty in my curiosity. She knew exactly what was on her player. She merely chose to grab onto my question as if it would provide her with a key to the mistery. With a melancholic smile, she placed a firm grip on the heater, almost afraid of falling off. I asked her if she felt alright, if she was cold. She denied politely. But she clutched that heater so. I reached for the green blanket. It had fallen off the bed earlier. You know, I thought it would be a clever reason to approach her. To touch her. To assess her consistency. Flesh or emotion. The blanket got caught on that stupid night table I've been meaning to fix. You know...the one I keep finding excuses for, like "it has a certain charm, with its chopped wooden edge". It's not charming. It's just damaged. Anyway, I tried to untangle the threads caught between the splinters as fast as I could. While I did that, I asked for her name. The silence was different this time. She was no longer there.
- But she returned, right?
- Yes. The very next evening. Funny thing is... I spent that evening somewhere else, in a motel outside San Diego. I went there to visit Diane. Well, truth is I had a feeling the haunting story wasn't over and I wanted to cheat it. I went there to hide. By the way, Diane asked about you. She seemed so happy to be forgiven. She thinks I did forgive her. She thinks I didn't spend the night with her because I can't stand the children crying.
- You're cruel.
- Compared to her, I'm an angel. But this is not about Diane. After I've told our redhead friend why I've avoided her for so long, we made our formal peace, we shared our shallow hugs and I was on my way. I checked in at Potter's Inn, a very cosy place that reminded me of our grandma's summer house. It smelt like cookies and raspberry jam.
I don't usually travel alone here. Not because I'm afraid or anything. It's just that I hate the feeling of displacement you get on this strange continent. Or maybe it's just this country. Or the desert. I don't know. But this particular inn was a different story altogether. It felt more like home than my own bedroom. I didn't want to rush to sleep even in my state of exhaustion. Mental exhaustion mostly, the natural consequence of any encounter with Diane. I was sleepy but inlove with the view, dying to taste something from Mrs. Potter's kitchen and amused with the old school motown tunes on that radio, playing too loud in the carwash next to us. I can't even begin to tell you how confortable it was. I fought my alpha waves to prolong this suspended childhood feeling as much as I could. Eventually, around 11 pm I gave in. I turned off the lights, smiled at the tomcat outside my window, beginning his nightly pursuit, and almost sleep-walking I pulled the shades down. Well, I tried to. Her daunted whisper stopped me when she asked if I could stay awake for a few minutes more. She had returned.
- You must have freaked.
- No, not at all. I was bit startled because the atmosphere in that room kind of erased the recent past. But then again I felt like I was in good company. She apologized for the vanishing the night before. Apparently she has no control over her travels. I invited her on the bed. Again, a reason to force a physical connection. This time, it worked. We both got under the quilt (yes, the bed was covered in a traditional hand-made quilt) and resumed our conversation.
- So was she flesh ? Or emotion?
Tuesday, 25 March 2008
Monday, 17 March 2008
Sister & Brother - mono.1
- Good evening, brother. It's morning here, on the other side of the earth and I'm barely awake. It's been the 12th night in a row that I've been experiencing something utterly weird. I wouldn't normally bother your scientific pretty head with this but I fear it's your fault.
- Good morning, sister. Funny, I was just thinking of you while watching a glorious sunset. It reminded me of the desert scapes you live amongst. I was going to write something about it while it's still fresh in my mind but I'll do it later. Anyway... What did I do now?
- Ok. There's this girl... she's haunting me. She keeps popping up in my dreams. At least I think I'm dreaming. Sometimes I can also hear her when I'm awake. Like an echo. Strange thing is, I've never seen her before in my life. I don't know who she is. She never told me her name. Apparently she doesn't know mine, either. I have no idea how she found me, how she got in touch with me. But she did. And she constantly knocks on my subconscience door. Right the second after my brainwaves shut it behind.
- Trying not to raise an eyebrow here. :) So, what does she want from you? Do you have reasons to be scared?
- Well... her first visit scared the shit out of me. I was in my bed. You know me, I still twist from side to side a dozen times before I black out. I did the mistake of opening my eyes when I turned towards the window. I froze. Truly frightened. At least for the first 30 seconds. Because she just sat there, on the heater, staring out the window with a puzzled look on her face. Then she turned her head and studied the room. In silence. First I thought she was a burgler, or a homeless person, someone real who happened to enter my room while I was brushing my teeth a few minutes back. Didn't strike me as a vision or a spectre. She was as solid as anyone surrounding you, dear brother, on your daily hunt for cigarettes. I still have no idea why I felt no impulse to call 911, no survival instinct whatsoever. The expression on her face must have caught my attention and pinned me down. Looking back, I think she was even more scared than I was. So I sat on the corner of my bed, the furthermost away from her but close enough to study her and I tried to utter something. I don't know if I managed to say it out loud.
Apprehensive, first thing she said to me was "I left my confortable bed this morning not knowing where to go". After a pause, a little more confident, with the confirmation that I was listening and understanding she continued: "It's a weekday so even if I didn't feel like it, I took the bus, on my way to the office, put my headphones on, sorta' hypnotizing myself with the oh-so-familiar streets and stop signs and advertising billboards. It was all boring and fine. Then, instead of the abandoned railroad and scattered garbage that were usually beneath the bridge I saw a highway. And the traffic was frantic already. I wanted to laugh at my own delusion. How could they have built that overnight?! It wasn't there yesterday. At the end of the bridge I was waiting for a confirmation that I didn't take the wrong bus. I wanted to see the fishmarket on my left. No fishmarket. Instead, a gas station. The movement stopped. No more driving. No more engine noise. It was time to figure it out. I looked further ahead trying to identify my city, the polluted industrial area that should have raised its severe silhouettes against the horizon. Instead, a suburban area, with middle-class-type houses like those in american movies. That's when I knew something was off. Still, I wanted to check with the people on the bus when I turned my head and there was no bus but a bed. There was no sunlight but moonlight. There was no white noise on the radio but silence. There were no bus people but a woman in pijamas. You."
Then she waited for a word from me, a word of comfort, something she could hold onto and prevent her from losing her mind.
- Sis? So what does it have to do with me?
- Good morning, sister. Funny, I was just thinking of you while watching a glorious sunset. It reminded me of the desert scapes you live amongst. I was going to write something about it while it's still fresh in my mind but I'll do it later. Anyway... What did I do now?
- Ok. There's this girl... she's haunting me. She keeps popping up in my dreams. At least I think I'm dreaming. Sometimes I can also hear her when I'm awake. Like an echo. Strange thing is, I've never seen her before in my life. I don't know who she is. She never told me her name. Apparently she doesn't know mine, either. I have no idea how she found me, how she got in touch with me. But she did. And she constantly knocks on my subconscience door. Right the second after my brainwaves shut it behind.
- Trying not to raise an eyebrow here. :) So, what does she want from you? Do you have reasons to be scared?
- Well... her first visit scared the shit out of me. I was in my bed. You know me, I still twist from side to side a dozen times before I black out. I did the mistake of opening my eyes when I turned towards the window. I froze. Truly frightened. At least for the first 30 seconds. Because she just sat there, on the heater, staring out the window with a puzzled look on her face. Then she turned her head and studied the room. In silence. First I thought she was a burgler, or a homeless person, someone real who happened to enter my room while I was brushing my teeth a few minutes back. Didn't strike me as a vision or a spectre. She was as solid as anyone surrounding you, dear brother, on your daily hunt for cigarettes. I still have no idea why I felt no impulse to call 911, no survival instinct whatsoever. The expression on her face must have caught my attention and pinned me down. Looking back, I think she was even more scared than I was. So I sat on the corner of my bed, the furthermost away from her but close enough to study her and I tried to utter something. I don't know if I managed to say it out loud.
Apprehensive, first thing she said to me was "I left my confortable bed this morning not knowing where to go". After a pause, a little more confident, with the confirmation that I was listening and understanding she continued: "It's a weekday so even if I didn't feel like it, I took the bus, on my way to the office, put my headphones on, sorta' hypnotizing myself with the oh-so-familiar streets and stop signs and advertising billboards. It was all boring and fine. Then, instead of the abandoned railroad and scattered garbage that were usually beneath the bridge I saw a highway. And the traffic was frantic already. I wanted to laugh at my own delusion. How could they have built that overnight?! It wasn't there yesterday. At the end of the bridge I was waiting for a confirmation that I didn't take the wrong bus. I wanted to see the fishmarket on my left. No fishmarket. Instead, a gas station. The movement stopped. No more driving. No more engine noise. It was time to figure it out. I looked further ahead trying to identify my city, the polluted industrial area that should have raised its severe silhouettes against the horizon. Instead, a suburban area, with middle-class-type houses like those in american movies. That's when I knew something was off. Still, I wanted to check with the people on the bus when I turned my head and there was no bus but a bed. There was no sunlight but moonlight. There was no white noise on the radio but silence. There were no bus people but a woman in pijamas. You."
Then she waited for a word from me, a word of comfort, something she could hold onto and prevent her from losing her mind.
- Sis? So what does it have to do with me?
Wednesday, 12 March 2008
Paranoid & Android
What are you doing? What did you write on that flat screen of yours, automatic creature?
[Uploading... Please wait]
No, before that.
[Log entry 3021911903294186032]
Oh.. please stop messing with my head, twisting my every word. I'm talking about the information within the log, between the lines and odd characters. I need to know what it means. Was it about me? Are you deciding my fate? I'm going mad here reading your encrypted tales from an outer world.
[Initiating clean-up sequence]
What?! No! Are you trying to erase me? Please don't erase me. I need that confortable entry in your data base. Why are you doing this, anyway? My error was not that grave, not unmendable. Give me some time to troubleshoot.
[System restore. Please wait...]
Oh... I get it. Are you turning back the time? To recommence from the day before my first connection? Then what?! Will you pretend you've never met me? Will you pretend I've never pushed your buttons? Will you pretend I've never refreshed you? Will you pretend you don't know what it feels like?
[Operation complete. The changes will occur at the next restart.]
How can you be so cruel? I know you're all plastic and wires but, come on... we've read each other's thoughts so well before our falling-out. Doesn't it count for something? At least say something directly to me. Use my name. Confirm my theories. So I could have one last satisfaction: that I caught on, that I'm not 100 % paranoid.
[Unable to connect. Try again later.]
What if there's not going to be a next restart? What if I will unplug you, dear, when you shut down and I will pretend there's no more electricity left in the world? I could survive with my paranoia as a blanket. I'll be alone, but alive. You'll be mute, blank, inactive, obsolete, a piece of furniture. Come to think of it... with you in a coma, my conversations won't be too different from this one now, would they?!
[Reconnecting...]
[New update available. Accept install? Y/N]
[Uploading... Please wait]
No, before that.
[Log entry 3021911903294186032]
Oh.. please stop messing with my head, twisting my every word. I'm talking about the information within the log, between the lines and odd characters. I need to know what it means. Was it about me? Are you deciding my fate? I'm going mad here reading your encrypted tales from an outer world.
[Initiating clean-up sequence]
What?! No! Are you trying to erase me? Please don't erase me. I need that confortable entry in your data base. Why are you doing this, anyway? My error was not that grave, not unmendable. Give me some time to troubleshoot.
[System restore. Please wait...]
Oh... I get it. Are you turning back the time? To recommence from the day before my first connection? Then what?! Will you pretend you've never met me? Will you pretend I've never pushed your buttons? Will you pretend I've never refreshed you? Will you pretend you don't know what it feels like?
[Operation complete. The changes will occur at the next restart.]
How can you be so cruel? I know you're all plastic and wires but, come on... we've read each other's thoughts so well before our falling-out. Doesn't it count for something? At least say something directly to me. Use my name. Confirm my theories. So I could have one last satisfaction: that I caught on, that I'm not 100 % paranoid.
[Unable to connect. Try again later.]
What if there's not going to be a next restart? What if I will unplug you, dear, when you shut down and I will pretend there's no more electricity left in the world? I could survive with my paranoia as a blanket. I'll be alone, but alive. You'll be mute, blank, inactive, obsolete, a piece of furniture. Come to think of it... with you in a coma, my conversations won't be too different from this one now, would they?!
[Reconnecting...]
[New update available. Accept install? Y/N]
Monday, 10 March 2008
Tower & Bridge
- I'm perfect for her - tall and slender, amazing view. And the view is reasonably important once it becomes the last thing you see before the resolution. What else can replace that feeling of impowerment mixed with frailty when you see the world unveiling at your feet, industrial scapes breathing the fields around, the ravens patiently waiting for their due. It's the world at its most affectionate. And she will embrace it as it is. With no more improvements to be made.
- Are you serious? There's no way she would choose you. She prefers things clean. She doesn't like to bother anyone. Plus, water will sooth her, give her pleasure, take her on a trip, make her try new moves before the resolution. She will finally enjoy the taste of relinquishment. Slowly. As she used to do with wine and french truffles.
- I'm telling you, flying versus floating - pretty obvious choice, dude.
- Well, I provide both :)
- Hmm. Caught me there. But you're forgetting something. If she chooses me, there's artwork left behind. In vivid colours.
- Street Art. [...]
I can't believe it. This is getting hilarious. I mean, I feel kind of guilty talking like this. It's disrespectful. She might be listening.
- Don't worry. She has a sense of humour. Especially in times like these.
- Well anyway, I don't think it's the kind of art she wants to be remembered for. She does appreciate the varied ways of self-expression available out there. I know that. But she herself would not choose shock-art as a final act of creation. I believe she would find it distasteful.
- So, even death is subject to aesthetics.
- Are you serious? There's no way she would choose you. She prefers things clean. She doesn't like to bother anyone. Plus, water will sooth her, give her pleasure, take her on a trip, make her try new moves before the resolution. She will finally enjoy the taste of relinquishment. Slowly. As she used to do with wine and french truffles.
- I'm telling you, flying versus floating - pretty obvious choice, dude.
- Well, I provide both :)
- Hmm. Caught me there. But you're forgetting something. If she chooses me, there's artwork left behind. In vivid colours.
- Street Art. [...]
I can't believe it. This is getting hilarious. I mean, I feel kind of guilty talking like this. It's disrespectful. She might be listening.
- Don't worry. She has a sense of humour. Especially in times like these.
- Well anyway, I don't think it's the kind of art she wants to be remembered for. She does appreciate the varied ways of self-expression available out there. I know that. But she herself would not choose shock-art as a final act of creation. I believe she would find it distasteful.
- So, even death is subject to aesthetics.
Friday, 7 March 2008
O.D. & D.O.
I'm sorry. I was harsh.
(Silence)
I know you didn't wrong me in any way. I must have overdosed on my own poison. Bitter blue. Your sole fault was using a trigger word and there I went, pouring my cyanide all over your kindness.
Kindness?
Yes. You give meaning to things others are oblivious to, making my world seem a little better and asking for nothing in return... that kind of kindness.
(Silence)
And I managed to betray it in almost 300 words. All true nonetheless. I believe what I've said there. I'm not trying to recant. But the words were misplaced into the timeline, wrongfully arranged so they would point at you and hence so damaging.
Will I be forgiven?
(Silence)
(Silence)
I know you didn't wrong me in any way. I must have overdosed on my own poison. Bitter blue. Your sole fault was using a trigger word and there I went, pouring my cyanide all over your kindness.
Kindness?
Yes. You give meaning to things others are oblivious to, making my world seem a little better and asking for nothing in return... that kind of kindness.
(Silence)
And I managed to betray it in almost 300 words. All true nonetheless. I believe what I've said there. I'm not trying to recant. But the words were misplaced into the timeline, wrongfully arranged so they would point at you and hence so damaging.
Will I be forgiven?
(Silence)
Thursday, 6 March 2008
Me & Mirror
- I see a spot, a scratch, there's a corner that's a bit dusty...
- Let's explore that, shall we?
- Let's explore that, shall we?
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