Draft of Marble (WIP)

Wind beneath the wings

soaring from runner's high,

paying no mind to the hellos and goodbyes of passers by

and those passed by

Tight black paper thin pants

cling like second skin.

Sweat dripped jiggling bits,

the swift motion of an agile body,

that fierce distant expression

hide the self loathing and dissatisfaction

brought about by pencil skirts

and spreadsheets.

Sounds of Burnt Jam blend to Trouble Sleeping

all shuffled

pleasantly blocking strangers’ chatter

Scorn for the sand,

scorn for the metal poles and chains with swinging children,

scorn for the corn dog eating

lemonade drinking

fatty on the wall writing on the paper pad.

Beach full of families and mostly naked vagrants,

yet the run is as isolated as ever

Six miles ran make the gap from heart to home no smaller.

That desolate and dark nest where passion sleeps.

Faint melodrama leaves a bitter taste

far preferable to the lingering staleness

of a dry energy bar and thick protein shake.

Berry flavored.

Door in need of paint

welcomes home

weary traveler.

Shut the door tight

rehydrate

breathe

The mirror purifies.

Sports bra on the floor

White shirt and yoga pants elsewhere

A glimpse at what dreams are made of

the envy of Bernini’s ghost

Rodin’s modern muse

Sculpted not by hands

But

forged  by reps

by squats

by reps

by diet

by reps

by sleep

by reps

Goddess in the glass

momentary Kryptonian

No others matter

No more cravings

No sadness

No loneliness

Only reflection.

Absolute physical perfection

Glistening with sweat and tanned by sunlight.

Immortalized by a  flash.

A transient moment

tucked away

in electrical form

waiting to be called to service.

Fumes of smoldering vanity

release from tender muscles

Drips of soap and suds wash salt and waste

glimmer purged

by soft hot rain drops from top to bottom

racing down curves and dips

down the swirling mass of bubbles

with tangled strands of hair and sand

and monotonous self loathing.

A bunch of a character ideas done in rapid fire incomplete prompts basically. Ingredients to put into a pot and make something with later.


Lawrence - A guy who can only have sex in public places and loves breaking rules. He can't talk to women normally and has problems with OCD.

Lawrence (2)- Can only have sex if he pays for it. Even with women who are attracted to him, he is peculiar in that he always leaves money for them somewhere. Some women don't get it others get offended. It all is part of how he had his first sexual encounter and how people have taught him about women. He works to fix his relationships, but it is hard.

Elliot - A guy who is paranoid and wants to try LSD. He is bored with his life as a librarian and wants to do something exciting. He is a normal average normal guy who works and spend most nights with his friends at a bar.

Ruben - Love to bake but works at a fishing dock cause that is his families business. He starts baking at night. And works towards baking. It results in his hatred for baking and finding a passion for computer programming

Etna - She is a very large woman on  quest to be fit and thinks it will make her happy. She finds a fitness trainer and in 9 months has completely transformed herself. Life style changed and she is happy. She starts dating her trainer in that time, but he has been cheating on her. She has to find a healthy way out of it or maybe it will ruin her.

Lewis - Moves to the middle of the United States to start fresh, but the internet has made that impossible for him. The world is smaller and a fresh start is hard. He tries a third time more successfully, and moves to a placed with little technology.


Louise - She wants to be a house wife. She wants pretty things, but she is a CEO for a tech company. The love of her life died in a thresher he was a TV show host and he fell in by accident and got threshed into a hay bail

Lucile - She works as a clerk at a market, day in day out adventures, she loves reading is quiet and observes all the oddities that occur at their establishment.

Everett - A man who lived in a suburb his whole life goes on an adventure through Asia.

Eileen - She has an internet problem. Horrible facial scars. She has been stuck indoors since leaving college. She sells tiny crafts on the internet. Her best friend Marina is into her, but she does not feel the same way.


Robert - Is a world class bike mechanic. That has a fancy for hunting and killing things.

Oli - Wants to learn to be a butcher. Cuts things up and goes through the steps His girlfriend leaves him and becomes a vegetarian.


Tamania - An person who is eternally youthful at 21 and her adventures through time. The most plausible time traveler.

More later.
 

I need to just write more.

I have not produced anything in along time, not even in my own little secret folders in my google docs where many unbaked ideas sit and rot. I need to share more. I need to get the ideas on the page and out in the open. Just unfiltered unfinished, but at least out in the open ready to be molded into a real story.

I want to fix all the stories in my previous posts and some I haven't shared yet. I feel like some of the events are juvenile. But maybe some of them have to be. An article I read a while back made me think of virtually created realities. Not just in the kind of games we play today, but as in fully functional to a subatomic level. Or if that could at least be approximated to appear as though it was working on a subatomic level when observed. If you made a virtual universe like ours, you could find a world in that universe such that life exists and observer it. If we had a virtual universe such as that, we could go forward and backwards in time of it and observer it from any angle and any location in that world. We could see the evolution of life on a planet. We could witness an evolutionary history, we could witness a completely alternate universe of our own creation. We could make more of them. We could tweak them to fit our imagination. We could make our own rules. World were sentient minds form, worlds to watch. A generator of stories, we could become watchers and watch many universes. We would witness virtual sentient beings and possibly virtualize ourselves to travel across near infinite universes and live endless lives. We simulate a multiverse recording and growing to understand itself.

I want to write the stories in a world where that is possible. A girl journey in that world. Witnessing the history of her own reality and diving into a many infinite universes. Her death in the real world would send her to the virtual after life where the replica of her consciousness could live indefinitely. She could cross into other peoples realities as well as collective realities. All the beings would be part of a system, as system that is literally the collection of all the minds and universes and all that is to know in them. A virtual god of no sentience, a system.

Part of that idea came from how I wanted to justify a world where fantasy could make sense. It's easy enough to say magic exists, but I like having a way to make it make sense. After reading about superheroes and physics so many more unexplained sci-fi things bother me. It doesn't mean I can't enjoy them, but I want the fiction to be beyond my grasp. If I know something is clearly wrong it kills the fantasy. Which is also why somethings are better unexplained, but in authoring my own work I should know it and have a reason why it makes sense. It gives logic and flow to events.

So if a world is computer generated people could twist the code like Neo in The Matrix. But maybe only to certain degrees. In some personal universe some person came up with rules for "magic". Or maybe some one came up with a universe where a consciousness is copied and then dies permanently. Or a consciousness enters but cannot escape.

It would not just be Tron, maybe the people in it would see it more like actually crossing into other worlds, while that would be literally true, it would also be literally a computation occurring in a system.

What kind of world was it that would lead to that world too, what kind of problems to people face in world of infinite viewing entertainment. What came before and how did it happen?

I want to answer those questions and see generate a narrative for that.

The future musings stories I wrote, I had in mind to tie into this concept. It would allow for a cross genre universe, and possibly a meta author voice. I want to tie my works together into a cohesive piece.

Lots of thoughts running and I need to write more. Also this post needs to be cleaned up. So messy and unorganized.

Future Musings - Part 4

Kael

                        I lay on me bed with a browser window open. I run my fingers across the holographic screen and stop at a message from Lynn.

            “Hey! Sorry I haven’t been online much. I’ve been busy with work and family stuff, so I haven’t had much time to play. I know the guild is broken up, maybe we can find a new group to play with. I’ll be online more to talk to you again in like three days. ”

            She sent that February 24^th, 2022 at 1:00 am. I scroll down a little more.

            “Hey, it’s cool. I haven’t been playing much either. Hope to see you soon.” – Me, February 24^th, 2022 at 1:04 am.

            “Hey. Work’s been a little stressful. I got some drawings out on my spare time though. I hope you are doing okay.” – Me, February 28^th, 2022 3:54 am.

            “How are you?” – Me,  March 7^th, 2022 1:00 pm.

            “I am in the woods.” – Me, March 24^th, 2022 9:24 pm.

            “Found this video I thought you might like *link*.” – Me, April 21^st, 2022 6:52 pm.

            The line bar is blinking. I want to type something, but there are some things one should just give up on. I met her online, played with her for hours. Savored every moment, but it probably meant more to me than to her. I’ve told her things only my close friends know, like how I am a virgin.  I told her things I haven’t told my closest friends, like what I did when I disappeared for a week. Maybe it helped that she’s far away. I wish she’d talk to me again. If it wasn’t for the radio silence, I might have figured she was into me, even if it was logistically impossible. Maybe this wasn’t enough for her, so it’s better to not have it at all. I wish she’d just have said that though. Or maybe, she knows I am too into her. She’s a “swinger” after all. Maybe it’s cause I’ve never slept with a girl.

            I close the window. The clock says 4:34 A.M. I have work in less than five hours, but I am wide awake. It will be a whole day of working on storyboards for the upcoming film. I get up, sit on my desk, pull a pencil from my bag, open the sketchbook on the desk, and I draw a line. It becomes a chin, then an ear. It is joined by eyes; wet glistening eyes looking out into a blank page. Strait hair, that is parted a little to the right, it covers some of thee face. Hiding the ear that never materialized. It could be deaf or missing an ear, but no one can see under the hair, it’s two-dimensional. Nothing more than what you see. The gray clay eraser comes down; the pencil touches the page, new eyes, fierce and angry eyes. It has become a he, a he sitting on a cliff side with its head up looking into the sunset with fierce burning eyes. The touch of a felt tip gives his eyes a tired look, his clothes become a deep blue and dirtied and dusted and worn. The cliff side becomes covered in grass. The sky slowly transforms into a purple and orange splendor. I put my signature on the bottom. It’s not done yet though. It’s time to sleep.

           

            My roommates, Rina and Mark, are sitting on the couch. Rina holds the blue mug with two hands and takes a sip. She closes her eyes as the stress just vanishes from her face.

            Mark is showing me a video someone edited to make it seem like the President slapped a reporter. I laugh. He looks up at me.

            “So how’s things since we’ve been gone? Whatever happened to what’s her name? The girl from the coffee shop. Margie I think?”

            “Yeah Margie. Well I’d been hanging out with her a lot since last week. Then we were eating at the diner, right. Randomly she just says, ‘You’re a nice, guy, but you know I am never going to sleep with you right?”

            “What did you say to prompt that?”

            “I don’t know. I have no idea. We were just talking.”

            “What’d you say?”

            “I asked what brought that up. She just said ‘I thought you should know’ and left it at that. Tried to make the rest of that lunch less awkward.”

            “Then what? You still hanging out with her?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Why?”

            “Cause I’d be an asshole if I didn’t.”

            Rina finally says something, “So you’re hanging out with her now, because if you didn’t it would seem like you stopped hanging out with her because she said she wouldn’t sleep with you. And that would make you seem like an asshole.”

            I reply, “Yeah.”

            “But you’re mad that she said she won’t sleep with you?”

            “I was a little shocked when she said it, and her saying that prospect is off the table is somewhat upsetting, but not enough that I would stop hanging out with her.

            Mark says, “Maybe she’ll change her mind?”

            I say, “Yeah maybe.”

            Rina says, “She’s not into you, you’ve been hanging out for a week. She probably won’t change her mind. You do this to yourself every. Single. Time.”

            I say, “What? Get friendzoned?”

            “No, get sad about a girl not liking you. You say you’re okay now, but it’ll be a week before you get bitter about it. And it will eat you up inside. I hate seeing you like that. You can’t blame yourself and you can’t blame her. Also, the friendzone is bullshit. It doesn’t exist.”

            “I disagree, but what’s your point?”

            She takes a sip of her tea.

            “It doesn’t exist. You have this expectation of a girl to sleep with you, and when she tells you she just wants to be friends, you are some how put through some unbearable hell. Until you either stop talking to them, or you decide to put them in your jar of ‘girls I wish I could fuck’ and might fuck eventually. Okay maybe that’s not all true for you, but that’s what it’s felt like the last couple of months. I know for a fact that you are a nice good human being, but you don’t have any respect for any of those girls. You expect that if you shower them in kindness that they’ll eventually be too soaked and have to get naked and crawl into you arms. And when they don’t you come to us and complain about how ‘Emma is a bitch’, or ‘Jennifer is using me’, or ‘I can’t believe Quinn is going out with that douche bag now’.”

            “So what? I don’t deserve to be happy? I don’t deserve to have someone? I mean I figure I at least get the right to complain to my friends.”

            “You’re not entitled to have someone. You have no right to expect someone to like you for the sole reason of being nice to them. You can’t resent a girl for not liking you. You haven’t found anyone who wants to be intimate with you, and that’s not your fault, at least I don’t think so, but that’s not the girls’ fault either. It’s not their fault that you haven’t gotten laid yet. People like what they like, sometimes they know what that is sometimes they don’t. An example of that is I have no idea why I like this bone head next to me.”

            Mark says, “I resent that statement.”

            Rina says, “Girls are people too. Don’t stop being a nice person, but girls aren’t ‘machines you drop kindness tokens into until sex falls out’.”

            “Pulling analogies from the internet, how original.”

            “Do you get what I am saying?”

            “Yes, you’re right. I am actually a raging dishonest piece of shit.”

            Mark says, “Hey man she didn’t say that.

            I say, “I am saying that. I am fake. I should stop being dishonest and get out with it. I’ll tell every cute girl I meet from here on out that I plan to fuck’em at some point. ‘Hi, my name is Kael, I’d like to treat you out to dinner and give you a vigorous fuck, though I probably won’t last long cause I’ve never had any practice.’ And to hell with you two. Sure you can tell me how I should act like, cause you too are so happy, right? I can’t even complain about this shit to my friends, like are you serious? I don’t need you to judge me.”

            “Hey man, she’s just trying to help.”

            “Fuck your help!”

            Rina gets up. From down the hall way says, “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

            “Like what? Pissed off. Or maybe this is just how I am. I am just a pissed off son of a bitch pretending to be a nice guy.”

            “Dude.”

            “Oh shut the fuck up, and go fuck your girlfriend.”

            I go into my room and lock the door. I feel like shit. I snapped for no reason. Well, no I snapped cause she’s right. It’s never fair when I get mad at all the girls in the world, because I feel like I deserve someone. I haven’t found someone. I feel like crap. I don’t see enough people. I don’t put myself out enough. And yet I complain. There was a part of me that wanted to find romance, and I figured was enough of a prince charming I’d get it. I kept hoping to find some princesses. I found them, but they don’t want me. So I am going to quash that feeling. Finding love is too much to expect. It’s too much to force. Just getting laid isn’t impossible though. It’s not what I want, but it might be what I need.

            And then I can hear Rina moaning. I didn’t think he’d take my advice literally. We’ve been living here for a year and I never mention the fact that I can hear when they have sex. I am horny though. I turn on music to drown them out and open a window. I open Lynn’s profile. Lynn has a new status from eight minutes ago, the first in months.

            “Play with fire and you’ll get burned,” – Lynn with Eli Borges and Orin Amaral.

            I send her a message, “Hey, how are you? Can I call?”

            She sends a message back, “Hey, sorry I didn’t get back to you. I am out at a club right now, wouldn’t really be able to hear you. I’ll get a hold of you soon though. Okay?”

            “Sure.”           

            Fuck Brazil. Fuck Brazilians. Okay, no that’s racist.  Fuck it. Love and sex might go together, but I need to get one of those things crossed off the list already. Waiting for it to happen at the same time is too much. I get up. I grab my blazer. Unlock the door. Out the door. Out of the apartment. Down the stairs. It’s dark out. Three blocks over, cause we don’t have parking in the building. Touch the handle, the door open. I sit in the driver’s seat. I take a breath. Touch the wheel, engine on, lights on. I look out the window, pull out and drive down Litzinger Street. I am not a bad person, but I can’t help but feel the same about girls. I know it is not anyone persons fault, but it is easier to blame someone.

            I stop in front of a hotel. I have passed by and stopped by this hotel at least once a week since a friend told me this is where he goes when he is looking for a good time. I always thought of him a scumbag. I will find love I would think. I will have a girlfriend I would say to myself. I would sit here and just look at the front door. Today will be different. I probably will not feel any better, but I am going to do this. I get out of the car. I tap the handle twice, it locks and turns off. I walk out across the street. The doorman gives me a nod. I am in Jeans and a T-Shirt and this blazer. I ask him,

            “Is this where The Black Ice is?”

            “Yes, it’s on the second floor. Take one of the elevators in the back of the lobby. The bar will be on the right when you get out.”

            “Thanks.”

            He nods again. I go down the hallway. Up the elevator. To the right, through the doors. I hear piano music, its Nobuo Uematsu circa 2001. There are a few people, more than I expected on a Tuesday night. Guy with a moustache with two chicks at a booth. Blond guy with glasses talking to a girl in the back. A bunch of suits on a table, laughing at something. I take a seat at the bar. The bar tender is beardy guy with horn rim glasses. He’s making an Old Fashioned for a redheaded bombshell in a black dress. He walks up to me.

            “What can I get for you?”

            “A rum and coke please.”

            “Sure thing.”

            He fixes it up and hands it to me. A little window opens and asks me if I approve of this charge. “Yes”. I take sip. A brunette in a white dress sits a stool away from me. I put my drink down, I am afraid I’ll spill some if I hold on to it. Her lips are smoldering red.

            She opens her mouth, “Hey Dave, can I get a Ellis without the olives.”

            “Coming right up.”

            She looks at me. Her eyes are blue, and they have little black stars inside, pretty sure that’s surgical. The bartender comes back with her drink. She looks me up and down.

            “My name’s Every.”

            “That’s an interesting name. I am Kael.”

            “What do you do Kael?”

            “I am a coordinator at Livid Entertainment. What do you do?” I take drink. I feel hot.

            “I do freelance work here and there.”

           

            37^th floor of the hotel. Every touches door 3712 and it unlocks. She walks in. Turns around and looks at me. She gestures to come in. As I step forward a little window pops up, and asks me if I approve of this charge. I pause. I take a breath. “Yes”. I step through the door. She’s sitting on the bed. I am shaking a little. I sit next to her.

            I say, “This is my first time.”

            She tilts her head, “With a call girl?”

            “With anyone.”

            She bites her lip. Then says, “Well, I hope I can make it special for you then.”

            I don’t say anything.

             “Pretend for a moment that I met you three weeks ago. Pretend that you met me at the park. You were jogging and bumped into me. I fell over and you apologize. Then we talk a little and you asked me out. Pretend that after work, all we did was think about each other. Pretend that our first kiss was during a moonlight picnic by the old drive-in theatre. Pretend that we love the same things. That we just had a great dinner. That we are right for each other.”

            She leans in closer to me. I can feel her breathe. She continues

“Pretend for a moment, that I love you.”

            I am naked. In the dark. Every is looking at me. I ask her.

            “Is that your real name?”

            “Yes, my father named all of his kids interestingly. Is Kael short for something?”

            “Mikael.”

            “You have me the whole night you know. Unless you want me to leave.”

            “No stay. Please.”

            I sit there. I run my hand across her face. She’s beautiful.

            I pause for a second. It feels awkward, but I say, “You don’t have to answer this question if you don’t want to. What was your first time like?”

            “A lot like the story I said earlier.

            “Really?”

            “Yeah his name was Alvin. I really loved him.”

            “What happened?”

            “People forget the love they have sometimes, they get complacent. If you ever get a girl and find a good strong love, don’t forget it. Don’t let it go.”

            “I haven’t had much luck in that department, but there’s probably different things I could do to change that.”

            “You’re kind of cute, and I’ve slept scum bags, and you don’t seem to be one. I hope I did you a good one for your first.”

            “You were great. It was fun.”

            “We could have more fun.” She bites her lip.

            “Yeah I’d like that.”

            I needed to do that. I know I am not a better person, but I’ll try to be. Maybe that’s not why Lynn stopped talking to me, but I’ve crossed it off my list. Maybe Lynn isn’t something I should keep pressing. I’ll just ask her. Honestly. I just want to make sure that next time is not pretend.