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Re: Re: Supernatural Naturalism III
Even more words.
The light moved as I moved and walked down the narrow sidewalk. I wonder if the prostitute was already there. Two times two times two, too many times before. I would take two more before tomorrow. Two more drinks at the oxygen bar: breathe. I needed to breathe and I needed fresh air. Pure air. The sidewalk sparkled underneath my feet with each step. I stepped right, left, flash, right, light, left. Streetlight light. I lunged for the lamp and I thought I would fall but I braced myself. I saw spinning and more light landed in my eye. I was spinning to the left and I felt light-headed, heading down the silver sidewalk. I wanted to sit down. Two hands on a garbage can and a demon left my mouth and kept coming and went back in again, then out. Lilly. It burned, raw organic acid, and made me furious as I convulsed from an electric shock, shook, and gagged. It was gone and out, thank God. Two more blocks. Two too many blocks. A parked car blocked my path and it ran into me and I thought of Mark—his pathological lying. The world spun and I fell backwards onto the hood of the car, arms Y-shaped behind my head, just looking upward, staring at the stars but there was only blackness. Myriads of interconnected constellations, but I couldn't even see them now because of the light pollution. I wasn't in southern France. My lids blanketed my eyes. Blackness. He couldn't stop lying and I hated those who lied. I hated my childhood and college companion and I hated myself. I wanted to smash something. Not deserving it which was not a real predicate.
He was covering terrorist activity in Spain. I could see feigned pain on his face when he told me of the time he saw the suicide bomber. Better them than him he said. Like it never happened. So close to him, just across the street he saw him run into the bank and blow up. I didn't believe him but he said the head rolled. It rolled right up to his feet and stopped but it was no pigeon in a park. I bet he ran. He said the neck was chafed and the spine was exposed—crimson—cracked cranium; veins hanging out of the neck, eyes rolled back in the head, looking up toward Valhalla, where he thought he was and could be, but Mark would never know. No one would ever know. I read the article he wrote. True terror, I thought, was the truth.
There were four flavors of fresh oxygen. Slap. It felt like a thousand ants were crawling up my leg to devour my decaying flesh. I savored the oxygen, a taste cold and calming like an ocean. I needed to wake up. I needed to be refreshed. I needed a fresh start. I started to suck through the tubes tucked underneath my nose and it tasted fresh and pure.
Hell, it was my idea in the first place. Placed at the center of some imagined sexual revolution that she thought was real and I just went along with it. Though, we both thought monogamy was a joke. Laugh. Every time the divorce rate rose, we laughed. We laughed at couples that used terms of endearment and pretended to be in love. We laughed at the marriage vows they would make at their weddings, under oath, with Zeus as witness. Laugh. Lilly could be climaxing with another man right now and probably was. Was what, the time difference again? What difference does it make?
You want to get married? Okay. That's how it started. Open relationship, open marriage, open fucking sesame. But she couldn't leave her Mark. She denied it and lied like it were nothing. She asked me which witches were really witches burned at Salem? I said, finally, no rules meant Hades ruled. We never made rules. She said that there was no Hades, that we would be venerated like gods. I couldn't draw or read in-between the lines. There's never any line; only lies. We beat the system. Free love comes at the highest cost. Nothing is free and ever will be.
My story isn't meant to bring glory to the Enemy, that insidious snake. My grave message comes from beyond the grave so you might not be in the being that I am. Don't seek yourself. Seek truth and seek salvation. Oh Christe! Christe eleison! Kyrie eleison! Mark was innocent, and now I have only myself to blame.
The spinning suddenly stopped and I could breathe again. I woke up. Up on the second floor of the bar, but it was twenty minutes that had passed, and I didn't pass out, but I thought I would before I tasted purity. Then I knew what I wanted. A son. I wanted to raise something other than a white flag. I wanted to leave something behind that might last after I was gone. Where was the Portuguese prostitute? We were here just last night after the discoteca. She knew my hotel and room number. Lo mismo.
Length: 274
Rating: 4.50 (8 ratings)
Tags: fiction sample sartre hemmingway faulkner Poe Woolf supernatural naturalism hotel madrid el diablo experimental joyce
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Supernatural Naturalism IIII
Yet more words and noise.
I could see straight and I went straight back to the Hotel Madrid after the spinning was over. Over past la calle roja, the street moved behind me, the doors opened automatically, the hall moved past, the elevator elevated me to the third floor and I was almost to my room. I slid the card or the card slid itself into the slot and I was in my room. She wasn't there but I didn't care. Leaving the door open, I did because just in case. My clothes wouldn't come off and so I fell over on the bed and it was black again. Black like my conception of pre-natal non-existence.
My clothes were off when she woke me up and I knew I wasn't going to make love and melt into one under the moonlight. "Time to fuck busy night" she said in Spanish. I didn't understand much Spanish but I was up and we fucked and fucked. I didn't want to go but she was sending me to a false god. Adios. Again.Two times. Never seeing her again, no one ever knowing never. Tomorrow. Adios. Like it never happened. I wish I knew her name. Named something, not like Lilly, like Spain. Spanish name. Yes, No, I really wanted to stop but that smell stopped me. Not enough time, I wanted to stop and smell flowers, stop and smell Lilly, and then her face morphed into Lilly's. A flashback and I was back on the beach. Lilly was watching me but I couldn't stop. Sabroso, rico, caliente she said. I said nothing. There was no thing I could say. Her legs clasped around my waist as a brief flash of white light consumed my vision. Blackness.
The next day I woke up and she was gone. Adios. I wanted to kill the only instrument of torture that was left. And to my left, the sinister side, I reached over to the table by my bed and opened a bottle of imported Jack, pouring the poisonous elixir down as I stood up, standing, until it was empty, and then I smashed it on the wall of the room. It shattered and I laughed at it while I kicked the shattered pieces. I couldn't stop laughing and I fell back on the bed, laughing, arms Y-shaped behind my head, staring at the ceiling as it started to spiral and I was horrified. I started screaming but it was as if I were mute and couldn't escape the silence. I started stopping and my eyes glazed over. My lids blanketed my eyes and I drifted off again thinking about lies and lying there. Blackness.
Standing to the left, in the dreamscape, pondering the paradoxical, I wanted to make a statement but I didn't know what I meant to state. The matters of my State no longer mattered to me because Death was the genuine enemy and a classless society doesn't work. I was waving in the wind like a white flag and I was about to fall. Man was inherently unkind. I couldn't stand mankind. I thought I smelled Lilly's. Adios was the lack of God, my supernatural state, the origin of my inexplicable hate. Leaving no Mark, I ran towards Death naked and fully exposed like I had been at birth.
I met Mark in the square and he shot me that stygian smile. I saw red checkered spots popping and snapping behind his head like a whip. I heard laughter. His body was ablaze. I faced the face of fire. Not coming back. Not ever coming back. Never. Stay focused it's not real but it was there and I was worried it would always be there. Maybe it was a sign. "Sign here, Phil. Please, I don't have time for this," said the lawyer. I noticed he had a cyst on his wrist. It was growing and spreading all over his body in a sick cyclical motion. There was no cure for cancer and I knew he was going to die—I felt like I was dying—and he was trying to spread his disease and bring me down with him. He was bloated now. A bubble of grotesque human cancer. I was dodging scythes, right, and left, and death, and right, and whizz. Almost took my head off. No, it's still there. Fuck you, Death. Laugh. Lilly. Laugh. Cancer wasn't contagious, but he was. He was that AIDS victim that would accept no aid and would fuck people anyway unprotected out of spite, aborting infected babies left and right. And death. That's what he was. This was it. Two is such a terrifying number. I only wanted one.
[Caesura] My soul still initS'pain.
Length: 197
Rating: 3.90 (9 ratings)
Tags: fiction sample sartre hemmingway faulkner Poe Woolf supernatural naturalism hotel madrid el diablo experimental joyce
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Naturalism
sam's bitterness towards the gender of male.
Length: 169
Rating: 5.00 (10 ratings)
Tags: asian
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Atheism/Agnosticism/Naturalism
I explain what my theological position actually is, and plug a book that I'm currently reading.
To buy "Scientists Confront Creationism", go click here: http://www.amazon.com/Scientists-Confront-Intelligent-Design-Creationism/dp/0393050904
Song used: a midi version of the Muse song "Starlight"
Length: 297
Rating: 4.90 (22 ratings)
Tags: atheism agnosticism naturalism supernaturalism muse
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