User:Serprex 05:29, February 16, 2014 (UTC)
A short time ago some long once upon occurred. Where then was success determined? Quotes & figures, no more a thing of the past as a thing to become
"Tell me then, where do you come in?" is asked. "I don't know" is the reply. So continues: "Right, you come stumbling in & trip over every lout to take the hand everyone desires by mere chance of strange destiny"
"Oh" is the reply. So continues: "But this is only the beginning, for afterwards you must demonstrate this case to be the case, & not some act put on for show to show. Afterwards they'll ask: who is this woman? & you'll reply 'Celle'"
Celle nods. She does not feel the nod. She's dashed to the door. It opens. She enters. Here she must stumble. She doesn't stumble. An instant to realize freedom to make the proper step, the courtesy, half smiling, half smirking, maintaining eye contact while reaching behind to grab the next hand that'll pull inwards only to release outwards towards her predetermined destination
Until that last moment, where the floor falls apart. Shards of glass cutting bloody pores. Dripping at the door. Drops knocking blow for blow. Faint whispers shocked at this forced demise
"You were meant to demonstrate success despite failure, now you've become a failure despite success"
"Oh" is the reply. So continues: "Is that as you wish?"
"No" is the reply. So continues: "Then what?"
"To reiterate what has been learnt. Nothing of value, only human behavior, & their imposing mind upon body" is the reply. There is no continuation
Predictable behavior, clear as a light, refracted through a chipped glass, no longer predictable. Patterned
Fingerprints on flesh, scars highlighted with tattoos, signals sent as signs. Telling all's well for a nightmare
To realize these models are models, to look away at last & see. Description description
Plot the escape. Under guise for the thrill. Peg random points until the destination suits the unique hope
No exit. Awaken. Caffeinate. Cold reality sets in. Without warmth, what is there to seek?
Who is this woman? / Celle
There is no continuation. Lucid moments of "I am lucid" forgotten as teeth fall out & drift downstream. Only thinking 'Where were they then?'
Awaken / Not yet
Rush back to the anticipated horror. Scream in delight. Skip forward. See the end. Step back. Pause to breathe. Leave unfulfilled
Awaken / A moment / At once
Proceed to waste moments. Clutch memories of chills
A blur. Find rest
Empty darkness. Hanging on that final breath
Every day. Another day. Anxiety builds
Fill the blanks. Find pauses in the humming drone. Consciousness pillages experience. Something new, to keep it busy. To feel as if elsewhere
A stir. Awakened. Or jolted? Unsure. Fading
To tell a lie, truth must first be presented so that the victim maintains their own illusions
Celle does not reply. To what does this apply? All models become sporadic when encoded with this rule
Things which need be not said, yet are. Words of truth bearers. A paradox
Thus is the lucid signal found
Awaken to light refracting through eye lashes. Frustrated & relieved
Somewhere the desire rises to call out "Warn the others"
There are no others
Hunger pulls out of bed. Half slept table. Sift through paper piles
A pause to breathe. Now it's late, nothing done, only drifting
Stare into darkness. Eyes won't close
Things are better now. No recurrence. Blending into mint
Everything's the same, only there's no work to be ignored. No hours to count
Sudden sense of urgency. A sense of needing to be somewhere, but no way to discover. No paper piles to remind what's happened. Where's the past? Only blips emerge, yet it's known they're wrong
Sudden change of scenery. Urgency abated. Black out past those moments. Sit at a park bench, alone without loneliness
"Care for a lift?" Celle looks up. Finally she's decided a name for him, & so replies: "No thanks, Croire."
It doesn't matter. She's lounging in a backseat watching gravel go by. Croire's asleep at the wheel. This fact doesn't break the calmness
Eyes are shut
& open. No longing want, no stinging conflict, no annoyed ennui. All well
Moments later, all is no longer well. There's chaos in the streets, the dishes are dirty, a slight headache
Caffeinate. All's well again. Step out into the street & take a moment to gather the scene. Nothing much. Things going one way while others the other
"Care for a lift?" Celle looks up. Eye contact. This is backwards. But she decides to follow this hallucination: "No thanks, Croire."
Choice exists. She's still standing. Now walking. Cloudy day. Slight dizziness. Find a street bench to sit down at. It'd be nice to have no where else to go. But places to be, things to do, stomachs to feed
"You're late." It's important to say the obvious things, in case we forget them. Necessary "the"
Leave early for lunch. Skip food to stroll. Still dizzy. A half stream of consciousness checking over figures unmentioned. Sit at a park bench. No time nap
Go over designs, striking out inefficiencies. Dizziness growing. Fluorescent lights return slight headache from morning
Awaken / Hm? Sorry, tired / Sleep at home
Leave early. Not soon enough to catch sunset
So tired. Too tired to shut out the day
Half asleep, try to remember where awakening went
No explanation. Things change overnight. People leave, no touch is kept. They're not really gone, only existing elsewhere
"Things change overday," Croire points out, "but nobody questions that. Or they do, silly fools"
Why argue? Things change. More of the obvious. The obvious is many things. How will it change? In the future it won't be obvious why people assume selflessness is rooted in selfishness or insanity. In the past it wasn't obvious that people's actions are rooted in selfishness. Things change back sometimes, yet different
In all of this, the drive has ended. It's a different vehicle from before. Before stepping out, Celle asks "What were you here for this morning?" Croire replies: "We've only just arrived"
Black out. Back in a blue bed with white moon light in a small room. It's cold; the sheets are warm
Consciousness outside. Slow struggle as a dog mauls a man. 'Why didn't I hear that from inside?'
Wake up wanting to cry. Low blood sugar. Caffeinate, skip breakfast
Again: "Care for a lift?" Celle looks up, feels at a loss, "Yeah," & rifled through pockets for bills
She isn't late. A few hours pass, anticipation holds off boredom. At last it loses. A break in the rest room, a couple minutes feeling the stall walls fall in. A different dizziness
"This existence doesn't belong here" Croire says. She can't see him. Must be in the next stall. "You don't belong here"
Back out. Fork lift knocks over something. Stop. Kick aside. Sit down. Stare into white light like a hole. Shut eyes
A nothingness is
No need to return. Return where now? Or find some place new
Skip bench, sit on curb. Flashes of collapse comfort. Long gone hour
Juxtaposition: "Care for a lift?" Celle looks up, lost. A blank stare
Wake up in a backseat. Unmoving. Look out window: barbecue. Step out. The feeling of morning applied onto evening. "Where headed? I'll drive." Step in. Moving. "263 Dupont." No conversation
That's the wrong address
Awaken. Celle reiterates: "That's the wrong address." Stop
Inconsistency. Absurd or paradox? Signal noise
A pause to breathe. Lost into familiar. Dropped off at street bench
At a table. A new face. The faces always change. This is a new series. Vin nods from across the table. The table is wood which feels hollow. The room isn't lit
"White's in this month"
A nurse hands Celle a juice box with straw ready. Words talk, heads nod. He leads her out
Wakeful dreams. Long day. Fast to sleep
"Croire busted you up pretty well out there," Vin states without restraint. Celle makes no response. They're dancing on a table. Needless to describe which. "Unfortunately Croire is our driver, & we'll be late without proper transport," Celle isn't paying attention, enjoying the hollow table too much. Vin trips her, jaw landing on table edge. Painless as scripted slapstick. "Retrieve him."
Awaken. Still tired. Vin & her pressing matters fade. Need an income. But maybe a period of rest could be nice. Cloudless. Sleep in. Head out. The day suits; find a park bench. Half asleep
"Vin's got it wrong," Croire states, "it's a hoax."
Raise with a start. A moment of alertness before a wave of fatigue reapplies. Raise & drag feet. Reawaken
Fill sheets with facts or opinion, don't tell people who you really are, nobody wants to know, they don't want to know what fixes they fund
Skin begins to feel warm. Random rising joy. Experience ticks collapse into a short moment. & it passes
It's cold now
Don't sleep. It doesn't offer what's desired. Look some place else. Fail to find
Lost in the night. Night's grown colder. Sit down. Keep mind busy counting cigarette filters
"Hello." Celle looks up to being handed some warm drink. Familiar face: nurse from yesterday. "Hello."
Rather late / It is / What keeps you out so late? / You could be asked the same / Late shift / No shifts / Need a lift? / No thanks, Croire / Croire? / Nothing. I'll take your offer on second thought
Passenger seat. "Sciatis, by the way. Address?"
"Celle," & asleep before finishing
The stream is slow so far up. It's greener now. Breathing out condensation. There's enough moon light to see that this is an underground cave. Lazily toss pebbles into the stream for hours. It doesn't seem like there's that many pebbles
Black out. Sip hot chocolate
Still in passenger seat. Blanketed. Light outside. Exit. Enter enclosed porch. Lay down on glider. Stare along red horizon
Sitting on a small platform raising along a large shaft. It drops
Sit up. Heart racing. Sky's a dark gray. Shut eyes, enjoy fading memory of exhilaration
Sky's a bright gray. Exit porch. Ignore early morning dog walker. Turn down a narrow street, graze hand along bushes used for fences. Kick side walk rubble. Roll feet along said rubble. Pause to breathe at end of glide. Take path past no exit sign. Face through thin branches. A guided fall downhill. Note old labelless beer bottles in the dirt. The path comes upon a drop due to a brick wall holding the hill from eroding over the side walk. Descend the brick staircase of the wall. The brick siding continues, high enough to graze the cold porous surface. Walk faster to intensify the feeling. Fingers numb and warming. Stand at intersection watching cars wait. Amuse self during pause by inspecting different faces of different drivers. Cross briskly. Turn right along train tracks. Beam walk for a dozen steps, then step down and walk on gravel along left side. Traffic sparsely crossing in the distance. A couple tires disposed in the trench. Steps go by. Half lost. A moth flies by. Turn left upon intersection of rail and road. No side walk. Trees planted on a slope with woodchip circles. Cross road to side beginning on other side. Reach gas station intersection. Not lost. Skinny houses, some tall. Continue straight. Sound of wings flapping. Walk over side walk cracks for a dozen steps, then lose interest. Incline of road raising. Cross a three way intersection. A loud car drives by. Silence returns. Incline settles. A robin hops around a blue house's front yard. A moment of empty eye contact. A convenience store with a sign saying SALE, closed. Trees stop. Concrete begins. A church marks the border. A sanctuary exists: walk through park. Pass park bench. Inefficient pathing of tar trail. Walk through grass. Wet toes. Empty foot tall pool. A small bridge. Take tar trail, as grass slants downhill. Turn right upon exiting park. Sky has been turning blue. Wet toes now cold. Slight ache in legs. Not dizzy. Square buildings with raised displays behind glass. Cross road through bubble in traffic. Skip sandwich shop. Turn left, into a detailless building's door. Step over papers. Run up stairs despite tired legs. Unlock door. Inhale while opening door. Run up stairs despite tired legs. Unlock door. Enter. Open fridge. Close fridge. Lay down
Sounds of crickets. Sitting at a concrete creek through a wooded area. A bottle is passed. Celle swigs while Vin begins: There aren't enough mutilated doll parts / Too many rights organizations / Nobody cares about rights. The issue is everyone's too afraid of being unoriginal / That's a lie / There are only two kinds of things people want to invest in creating: known successes, & known failures / Tautology when you're a know it all like you / Such efficient critique / I worked in an office beside a girl who would always doodle mutilated dolls. She was rather annoying / Because of the doodles, or? / She'd give the saddest looks when she'd catch someone looking at her drawings. But no, it was the usual dismissive attitude so popular-- / Pop! Yet another thing the world needs more of: words that start with pop / Poppycock / Any day of the week / One can say "of the week" to generalize across time, yet "of the month"-- / Wrong. "It's that time of the month"
Time to get up. Past noon now. Check mail. Nobody writes letters anymore. Only money talk from people unknown. Money can't buy everything. The concept of money implies that everything has relative value along one dimension. This is absurd; as absurd as assigning a random health value to every food & disregarding the necessity of a balanced diet
Need money? Not at all. But money's the easiest trick to get what's needed: food. Rent
Thoughts dissipate while barreling down stairs. A moment of speed forced to end. There aren't enough long staircases
Flip through newspapers on ground. Telemarketing prospects in address nearby
Lazily walk a couple blocks. Turn left at some familiar place for the first time. Location now unfamiliar despite being on the same block traveled so often already
Enter a small building. Feels even smaller once inside. There's an elevator. Nothing else besides locked doors. Take elevator to basement. A few yellow lights on one side of the hall. Sounds of dancing behind a door. A mail slot accepting resumes
Retrace puzzled but without questions
Sleep all day, sleep all night. No reason to get up. Watch sundial window lights. Gone
Never sleep. Only blinks through the day. Stay up all night connecting dots. Drawing dark matter
Brush teeth. Try to sleep. Still awake. Eyes are shut. Traffic stirs. Light a lamp. Look around. Read a book. Eyes shut. Light still on. Get up. Circle rooms aimlessly. Drink water. Wash some dishes. Lights out
Brush teeth. First day. Couple blocks. Left turn. Small building. Elevator descent. Yellow lights. Door locked
Exit. Back on street bench. Circling squares everyday. Sliding doors on one track loops. Pendular rhythm
Return to small building. Descend elevator. Yellow lights. Door locked. Knock. Sounds pause. Pause to breathe
Hello. You are? / I applied yesterday / You are? / Celle / Madide. Come in
Enter. No where to sit. The room is large for how small the rest of the building is. Empty. Madide rifles through papers on a thin three legged table. She plucks out one, reading
You're overqualified / Pardon? / Don't dig for praise / I'm not / Okay
Silence. Stand ignored. Watch as papers are shuffled. Students are shuffled. Feet are shuffled. Music is shuffled. Everything gone. Again paper is shuffled. Lights out
"You'll have to leave now"
Exit. Doors locked. Elevator ascent. Exit. Doors locked. "Need a lift?"
Long way home
Return trip via cab
"Where to?" Croire asks
"Need to pick up Vin"
Ascend stone stairs, an arm lazily off to the side, reach past the fasçade. Brick wall
"I told you it's a hoax"
Descend stone stairs, elbow out, hand abreast. An arm reaches for
"It doesn't matter; what are faceless crowds for anyway? The fasçade's platform is well enough"
Here raises issue: where's hoax's con?
Dizzy without getting out of bed
This is planned. Predetermination. Shake head
Nobody does that. The last thing someone does when dizzy is shake their head
Regret. Groggy mind replaying misconceptions that are no longer misconceived in that instant
Reset needle. Skip skip
Consider returning a third time. It'd mark the point where no longer can random seeds be sewn. Everything would be harvested & served for conclusion
This is fallacy: preconception that all information exists to presume ending
Shake head. Head ache multiplies. Frustration at relapsive erring
Ring. Head ache multiplies
"Today isn't good. Call back tomorrow"
Wake up late. Drop by. Head out
Your place or mine? / Mine
Slung on a hammock slung on a porch
Blue skies, white clouds, green grass. Black roads, red cars, gray sidewalks
Blink. It's dark now. Go for a walk
It's no longer dark. Trees line a narrow black road. Grass puncturing the tar. A large cement bridge in the distance
Dark green river. Can't be seen; foliage too thick. Can only hear
No destination. Ponder: where? Hours pass. Same place is a different place. Whose place?
Some place. A few mostly empty cereal boxes. Not enough milk. Empty cracker box. Rolled up chip bags. Bread crumbs everywhere. Red dried liquid inside microwave
Pause to breathe. Door opens: Why are you still here?
Silence looks a little heavy
Moments are separated by choices. There's always choice; momentless?
Return to this place. Decide: where to? Consider answering. Don't
Walk out. Pause to breathe. Where're keys? Swear
No change. Shameful stare down. Still aboard. Red plastic seats with old brown fabric. Stand hand to pole. Eyeless. On off. Turn into concrete, turn out of concrete. Disembark
Sit at bench. Slow traffic. Calm engine noise sets atmosphere
Yellow tint. Green blotchs on rocks. Corinthian pillars holding nothing
It's all a guise. Destination misdirection
Blue tint. Machinery half submerged in the ground. Imminent death
Slight panic. Instinctive hope
& yellow tint. Scenery echoes
High altitude perspective. Calm urgency to warn
A horn sounds. Traffic has picked up. Slight chill as evening sets in. Dizziness sets in. Street lamp lights up
Need a lift? Overlift
Stairs, door, stairs, door. So it goes
Celle asks: Where were you?
Vin's facing. Arm jutting out. Arm wrapping
Black out. It's been awhile. Dust in the air. Everything's gray
Black out. Yellow halls. Brown archs. Muffled orchestra. Red tinted windows. Nothing's outside
"Hello," abruptly look back. No one. Voice without a name
Make to reply. No words, only thoughts. Someone else answers "Hello"
Distance close. Elsewhere, locked away. Blue stones & black bars
Chained to wall, stone to temple. Pain feels like falling
Fields fit for rice, yellow dirt, shut eyes observe. Arms raised. "Elsewhere here, nothing there, all well"
Double lives are draining. Drained
Feet dragging, tripping anxiety, gripping anxiety, carry on, spinning dizzy. Dizziness feels like falling
"Hey, this place is beat, elsewhere?"
Only one question: your place or mine
Guttural snapping. Frills glide along gritty cement blocks lined one by one