Saturday, May 07, 2005

Special Relativity

(I've been meaning to post this for a while. It's a few years old, but it's probably one of my favorite writing pieces that I've ever done. So Enjoy! Since bloggie doesn't like spacing, all the italicized parts, except this one, are supposed to be indented.)



On the first floor, I welcome the checkered floor, the high ceiling, the empty room. Not sure how to proceed, I hesitate. The light, withdrawing from the corners, condenses into a single stream, intensifying the center of the room. The process, instantaneous, hurts my eyes. I walk into the stream.

It’s not that I have a problem with my body, she breathes, I just don’t understand why I only have one.
I only have one mind, I reply, but so does everyone else. Everyone is I.








On the second floor, we gaze at each other through glass windows and listen to the TV hum. Sadly she smiles at me, her white teeth grinning.

It’s new, she says.
I know, I reply.
I’ve―never tried it, she says.
I know, I reply.
It doesn’t really do anything, she says.
I know, I reply.
I love you, she says.








On the third floor, I wait for her. Time has a constant effect after a while, like freefalling.

No one really listens, she told me once.
I’m listening, I replied.

Straining, I hear the memory of her song. She would breathe my thoughts into wave patterns to bounce down hallways and bend through water. She never asked any questions.








On the fourth floor, I am faced with a reflection of me. Despite trying not to, I see her in the process of reflecting. The face stretches to fit the image of dimension and vertigo hits me.

On the fourth floor, I am faced with a reflection of her. Despite trying not to, I see me in the process of reflecting. The face stretches to fit a frame of reference and vertigo overtakes me.

On the fourth floor, I am faced with a reflection—

You’re trying too hard, she says.
I know, I reply.








On the fifth floor, she meets me. Standing just outside my vision spectrum, she sings to me in ultraviolet rays. My shadow sways in time with her melody. Passing through me, she takes him, twirling through corridors and leads him to higher frequencies of movement. I try to follow but all I find are specs of dust floating, unsettled by their passage. I only see spots.








On the sixth floor, I find my shadow, beaten and broken, bleeding.

You affect me, she says.
I do not reply.








On the seventh floor, I find my shadow drawn to me. I find the furniture drawn to me. I find the air drawn to me. I wrap myself in the fabric of the seventh floor and wait for her to be drawn to me. She approaches cautiously, as if unsure whether I am actually there. I know she feels me, but I am not as she remembers.

You don’t have to be afraid, I say.
I’m not, she replies.
Will you sing for me, I ask.
I will not, she replies.
What will you do, I ask.
I don’t know, she replies.
I love you, I say.








On the eighth floor, she waits for me, counting variables and constants. The echoes of my footsteps reach her before I can.

I hear your rhythm, she says.
I don’t understand, I reply.

She explains the stars to me. She explains that to be a body is to rely on potential. That a body suspended in limbo becomes the standard measurement of time, the gauge of motion, the origin.

I hear your rhythm, I say.
I don’t understand, she replies.
I can hear your heart beat, I say.
I am infrared, she replies.

I explain that to be a body is to rely on gravity. That identification requires separate movements through time, but to be alone is to be without identity. I tell her that she is my identity and she sings to me.

9 little fish:

Blogger tescosuicide swam up to say...

That was super cool. You have more like this?

2:19 PM  
Blogger Carl V. swam up to say...

That was incredible! I love all the images it conveys and the way that it flows. I don't really know what to say but "WOW!". I would love to listen to someone read this aloud, it has such an interesting rhythm. Thanks.

3:33 PM  
Blogger jenn see swam up to say...

i've always loved this piece.

what's going on with Spaces?

3:54 PM  
Blogger mysfit swam up to say...

tesco, i suppose i might - keep watch the fish... oh, and thanks.

carl, thanks as well, it's funny to me, but i've heard that about a few of my pieces - perhaps we'll work on an audible fish

luv, Spaces is done and ready for a publisher, but you know me, i... well, i don't think it'll be published until after i'm dead - perhaps i'll send you a copy before that happens

9:22 PM  
Blogger mysfit swam up to say...

to be honest i just have finish the cover and bind it somehow and then send it then you'll have a copy... if you want

9:24 PM  
Blogger Jay swam up to say...

Every floor was a treasure.

6:46 AM  
Blogger jenn see swam up to say...

of course i want a copy.

2:39 PM  
Blogger jenn see swam up to say...

i bet everyone wants a copy.

isn't that right fishies?

4:09 PM  
Blogger Carl V. swam up to say...

Si!

11:57 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home