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She is transfigured now


"Not everyone was meant to be a solid, you know. I myself would have made a far better liquid. What tragedy that I am captive like this! My passions all jammed up in this stiffling state....I feel like a candle lit bright and sealed into a kevlar-coated glass-jar.... "

Where did I meet you? I can't be sure. Memory gives me the quiet-treatment whenever you are mentioned. He claims that my own selective amnesia is to blame...who knows...quite possibly He is telling the truth.

I have snippets of things you may have said, and I store them in my bone-marrow. Also, tucked away inside my liver are a few reels of archival footage which I keep locked in a rusty-safe...

[Can you believe that I can feel it corroding? I sure can.]

I gather up these puzzle-pieces of the past and form them into a reasonable facsimile of you...for brief intervals, I pull you near, only to feel you dissipate as I prepare toembrace. Letover atomic particles mock me as they drift away.........don't worry, I don't blame you. Not for this.

Maybe we met on the subway.

Let's pretend it was sunday, 5am.

Across from nobody, sitting next to nothing, my mind grooved into the click-clack of train on track.. Doors woosh open and you slid in,a bespecaled wisp of a girl, your kaleidascopic presence flooding the space as all forms of light and color shot out from your pores. Your nature-metaphysical ... a spacial-anomaly compressed beneath asphyxiating skin, your possibility excluded by form...You were carrying that black-duffel... it was at least twice your size...by pure sleight of hand, you lowered it and with it built a nest.

The way you sat poised, head cupped in hand, tilted to one side,soft black hair falling into electric air, so outward bound was my mental-state that I hardly noticed the lack of oxygen in the cabin. My lungs were tossing out carbon-dioxide, replacing it synaesthasia.

 "Best trick I've seen all day...self-taught?"

"All the best tricks usually are."

Offspring of bohemia lost and not wanting to be found, fashioning a reality of our own... guarding ourselves from the world and its many efforts to buy us out wholesale, we had our "mantra" to keep us pacified....

 
"Most people, "normal" people, they give away their hope for free. As for their dreams, they are sold a dime a dozen. Then one day, too late,, the "normal" people realize that there is nothing left to sell. Freedom, a first-rate product sold to the lowest-bidder. "Normality", "sanity", these are but glorified prisons."

No prison-sentence for us, though. We had other plans, did'nt we?

....you worked part-time at trying to figure people out, trying to find a way to co-exist with the Joy-Kill Choir and its insidious depression. When you'd tire of the "human-like" , you'd visit me at work...you remember? The bookshop? Yeah, thats right, hon,you know...

 " Irony! These customers come in and buy all this transgressive fiction and yet lead such boring lives..It's all just porn to them, my dear. That's what I think. They read about junkies and killers and all as if they were mythical characters..."

 "Why does everybody need to write a book chronicling their "personal" struggle? Who cares about their incestous relationship with daddy? or mommy for that matter...You think I could sell my pain for a tidy profit? I imagine it would sell like mad... Then I could buy a 100 acres of rainforest and cut it all down. You think then I would have catharsis?"

....it is night. tongues mapping bodies/saliva tracing shape/desire propelled by thought ...I lose myself in her neon-green eyes... if I fall into them long enough, I will see an entire universe being created and destroyed ad infintum.....her Mayan face in my hands... a lull in the air alluding to expireing eternity.

The stars align in your favor for a short while, just long enough for you to let your guard down, long enough to smile a fools-smile, long enough for you to think maybe civilization was'nt such an awful idea and then........BAM..that old,bitter-crone Fate let's a piano fall on your head...

Afterwards, people will pass by your crushed body and laugh, stare, point....

 " I had a vision of empty stomaches being locked in cages...Endless rows of slave-labor stocked in warehouses and milk-colored men laughing at them, wishing them to tears. Why do I see these things? The world is such a sad place...Where do you think soul's come from, babe? Becuase I say they come from China. Souls made in China. It looks just like the real thing, but with no emotional-attachment required! I bet you they are made by the slave-labor I dream about. Yes, yes, souls are made in china, but the blueprint comes from the USA, of course."...

Not everyone experiences life the same way. You taught me this, there are those who absorb their environment in Hi-Def Sorround Sound. Pain, sadness, joy... all available wave-lengths of human emotion amplified, good and bad. And we all know it is mostly bad. This was the burden that you were born with, a stalking curse I could not understand. You would try to explain what it was like to feel everything so deeply and I would nod and hold you tight, but I had no idea. Not really.

You must have felt so alone.

"I have no yesterday and my tomorrow could be called into doubt at any time, so, really, today is the only sure thing."

"I don't know how much longer I can hold on... What more is there to feel that is worth feeling? What can we build that They will not tear down? I feel like an apple that is rotting on a tree, begging to be let go..."

.....me, a version of me, is wasting away on some beach, taking in the whip-lash of the yellow above as it sun-dries me. Her form is floating in with the tide, saline-carressed and washing to land. She opens her eyes and slowly rises to. The sea slides off of her smooth skin in tiny droplets, mainline dives into the sharp granules of sand below. The ones that make it through the sand will be lead through a trap-door sinkhole, then slowly drip into a pill-box that she keeps in her dresser-drawer, adjacent to the painting supplies.. My eyes chart each moist trajectory. I can almost hear them crying out. She lies next to me and we seek our third-eye forth into a cumulus cloud shaped into an Ankh symbol. The crackling sun gives an encore performance, it's refracted light bouncing off the earth, dressing our skin mango ....

....her body is here, but she is gone. She slipped from under the covers about 20 minutes ago, a phantasmagoric figure hovering away...inevitability will repel my body through a dead-air towards the terror I will have to face.There willl be motions, I will make my effort, exchanging her breath with mine. I will call the paramedics. They will also arrive late, disinterested. Uncaring. Judging. A few days will pass and I will leave the apartment behind, late at night with only a duffle-bag in tow. On the pulpy-wooden door of our tomb, there is pinned a scrawled-letter note to the landlord. I try my best to hide in the shadows, but the moon floods me with an accusing light, clarifying my conscience.

A bleak-light bar. Anywhere. A familiar face aproaches. My hiding place in the corner has just been discovered. I close my eyes, but I can feel his grin imposing on me and my thirst, threatening conversation on the premise of vague acquaintance...

"I am so glad to hear that all those rumors are bullshit, man. I knew that there was just no way you would let her go like that. Overdose my ass! People say some crazy !@#$...Sad to hear you all are on the rocks, though...Hey, man, you know, we all have our story about the one that got away.Hhahaa! What can you do, eh? Ain't a net been made that can catch all the fish, man. "

Yes, she is the one that got away. And I am the one who stayed behind.

When Fortune smiles, she smiles hard...

 "The fatigue of being solid is more than I can bear...Will you let me be a liquid? Or maybe I could be re-born as a pill-effervescant?A destiny to disolve in liquid..I may catch onto a precipe a faith if I became a liquid, love. The body is 2/3 liquid, right? Well that is 1/3 to little for me...I desire to be freed! Don't be sad, I will visit you as rain! Promise!"

It has been a while now, since the transfiguration of you. As I coil up my bodytight on this park-bench, in a location undisclosed to me, I realize its been 4 am for about 6 hours now. A crumbling feeling abounds all around me. Suspicion says the sky...

There is a nibbling on my toes as a chewing descends on my body... You always said the Vicarious Ones would tear us apart given half a chance....

"We are like mal-nourished street-tramps, our kind. Occasionally, They will tempt us with feast and we will attend, because we long for sustenance. Only upon arrival do we discover that the main course has already been devoured and we, lover, are the desert."



Last edited by Alkiviades, Aug/20/2011, 9:45 am
Jul/31/2011, 8:18 pm Link to this post Send Email to Alkiviades   Send PM to Alkiviades Blog
 
libramoon Profile
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Re: She is transfigured now


What can I say? Your words have the fascination of a spider's web aglow in neon over a back alley bar where all the drugs and dregs are cotton candy made of colored rain, yet crunchy to the taste and rapier to the texture.
Jul/31/2011, 8:30 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
elizabeth anne Profile
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Wow! What an introduction! Hello, and welcome aboard; what a ride we seem to have ahead. This is gorgeous soul-evoking, blossoming, wave-riding writing.

I won't get to everything you've written this evening--I see you have posts in Poetry's Spectrum as well, but I will certainly be back. Your writing is powerful, wrapped in amazing imagery and sensation. I am drawn in. Bravo.

Liz
Jul/31/2011, 8:39 pm Link to this post Send Email to elizabeth anne   Send PM to elizabeth anne Blog
 
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Hello,

Thank you for taking the time to read and comment. After taking a look at some of the wonderful work on display in DM, I was a bit intimidated by the quality. It seems as if each "voice" has a unique-quality and talent to share. I look forward to the healthy "give and take" that is so apparent.

 Having lived in Europe for about a decade, the opportunity to share anything I've written with native-english speakers/writers are few and far between.

All I aspire to, really,is a chance to share and learn from those whose "voice" and experience are both diverse and sustainining.

Thanks again for the gracious welcome!

alkiviades

Last edited by Alkiviades, Aug/2/2011, 7:51 pm
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Terreson Profile
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Re: She is transfigured now


Taking a day off from work. Get to catch up on the important stuff.

Let me get the mechanics of crit out of the way first. Typos suggest to me the piece is written to the screen, improv like. If so, impressive. If not, still impressive. But I have to say the errors worked against my ability to read. Working also, I think, against the narrative line and the momentum it looks to build. This is my only negative crit of the piece. Some word choices seem a little odd. "sparking infinity" is one such case. I am wanting to read sparkling infinity. "saq-voyage" is an image I cannot understand. I can't get a sense of what it wants to convey. That said, I must assume deliberate intention in the word choices. So I let them all torque me in the way I presume you mean. Enough of the grousing.

First paragraph, by way of setting up premise, is perfect. I know without knowing exactly where the story is going. A liquid caught, chained in matter. That is one fine conception of what it can sometimes mean to feel displaced. I think it is true that water is caught, found, imprisoned in all rocks and minerals. That is what came to mind. And I can see this elemental being caught in a form that does not naturally belong to it. That is some fine, what?, en-visioning.

But in one place, storyline works without fault. Intro, meeting, fall out, denouement. Storyline progresses quite naturally. The one place I am unsure of is where the story gives too much info, foretelling the unravelling, I think too soon. Here: "....For a while there, things were alright." For this reader it robs the pleasure of discovery.

What works most for me is the story's dynamic. Two like souls meeting by chance in an environment unfriendly to them both and who, for awhile, reaffirm each other's right to exist. Isn't that what happened to Romeo and Juliet? On the existential level I think so. And that is what comes through here.

Social criticism(s) may be a little heavy handed. But, since I am in sympathy with the attitude, I am okay with that. What was it Freud said about people? That we keep alive, not going stark raving mad, by holding onto necessary lies and fictions. Something like that. Only problem is that some few people are unable to live that way. They end up feeling too much. They end up praying too much when there isn't any shrine. (Jacques Brel said that.) Living this way, in fact, can lead to madness. Seeing too much without going mad is like walking a tight rope.

I note a penchant for ambiguity. I mean, did she or did she not o.d.? Nice touch, that. Suggestiveness, without the hammering of fact and too-definitive image.

Many, many good lines here. Good sentences and paragraphs, paragraphs viewed as self-contained units. Maybe the most evokative image comes towards the end when the narrator, curled up on a park bench, feels the nibbling on his toes. Immediately I see a rat at work just when he is trying his best to escape his corporeal self in order, I think, to join up with his transfigurative girl.

This writing is kind of large. Ambitious too in conception, narrative, and language. How can I not respond to it?

One last note, Arkiviades. There is nothing about this board that should intimidate. In the beginning I wrote a blurb by way of advertisement. Thinkers, writers, readers, conversationalists are found in all walks of life. From academicians to housewives, bartenders, hookers, garbage collectors, and desperados. In fact, this board came out of a sickness with venues, other boards, whose members put on airs pretentious like.

Hope you continue to play.

Tere
Aug/4/2011, 5:17 pm Link to this post Send Email to Terreson   Send PM to Terreson
 
Alkiviades Profile
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Tere,

Through-out my life, I have treasured the moments in which a wiser, more experienced person has taken the time/effort to relate their thoughts to me. Much gratitude to you, Tere.

Yes, this short was put to screen in one fell swoop, if you will. I worked the concept over in my head for 2-3 days and I kind of just "transfered" the various thoughts,concepts and images from my mind to the screen one sunday morning. Afterwords, I had to change the order on a few sections to achieve at leat a semblance of continuity, but that was about it as far as any changes go. Your commentary has reinforced my suspicions.You are right on when you say that the reader falls victim to a type of thievery . I would like to "flesh-out" the characters and "expand" the story, though without losing the surreal aspect.

Even as I type out this response, I am getting a few ideas on the second draft.
 

I meant the "intimidating" comment more as a complement on the wonderfully varied forms of writing that one finds on DM. I should have clarified. I did not mean to convey that I have any phobia of posting, far from it. emoticon
           ~Ioannis
Aug/5/2011, 12:32 pm Link to this post Send Email to Alkiviades   Send PM to Alkiviades Blog
 
Terreson Profile
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Yeah. Keep to the surreal. It is not something that comes naturally to me. So I enjoy it all the more when done effectively.

Tere
Aug/5/2011, 6:55 pm Link to this post Send Email to Terreson   Send PM to Terreson
 
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I took a look at it today and made a few changes. It is not finished yet. I am fairly certain that there are sections that need to be deleted.

This is a bit difficult to revise at the moment. I have a few other things that I would likce to get on with, so I may just let this linger out for a spell.

If anyone has any suggestions as to what I chould edit-out, let me know.

Thanks!

alkiviades
Aug/20/2011, 9:50 am Link to this post Send Email to Alkiviades   Send PM to Alkiviades Blog
 
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Hey all! A version of this short was sumitted and accepted to Gone Lawn, a eb-journal of progressive literature!

Needless to say, I am unbelievably enthoused. This was my inaugural submission , were it not for your comments and encouragement, I would not have worked on revising/eciting it.

I am just overflowing with gratitude, guys and gals. Thank you so!

alki
Aug/31/2011, 4:42 pm Link to this post Send Email to Alkiviades   Send PM to Alkiviades Blog
 
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That's great, A! Congratulations! This is a strong piece. I've read it several times and was about to comment this afternoon when I ran out of time. Still don't have the time right now to do the piece justice (I'll be back) but wanted to make a quick note of congrats.
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Congrats! I hope this strongly emotion and image provoking piece will find a deserving audience.
Aug/31/2011, 4:53 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
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You almost sound surprised, Alki. Explain to me why I am not. Surprised, that is. Always the big thing is the first conception, the idea a poem looks to flesh out. First reading and the big thing came through.

Please link to the board the issue in which it appears. And way to go.

Tere
Aug/31/2011, 5:59 pm Link to this post Send Email to Terreson   Send PM to Terreson
 
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Hey Alki,

I came back to your piece this morning and once again enjoyed the read. There is so much to like here: the voice, the prose style and use of language, the humor and liveliness you manage to intersperse into a somber story. I'm happy this piece will find a wider audience.
Oct/23/2011, 8:24 am Link to this post Send Email to Katlin   Send PM to Katlin
 


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