Just Write Something Already, Part 2

Updating begins anew! The week has been...curious. I've been feeling jittery from writing withdrawal lately, though, so expect more material on a regular basis. Anyway I decided to give the Bible a rest today and do something even more metaphysical than God.

***
Listen. Where did I go?

You borrowed me, wasted me, spent me, and killed me. Without so much as a thought. The ticking of the clock sounded in your ears and you paid it no mind as you rushed me to the grave. Where did I go?

I am a second. I have joined the other seconds that you tossed away like a grain of sand. We accumulate beyond the foggy reaches of Time. I knew this, but now I understand.

I was a second when you were staring at a screen. The screen had Keanu Reeves on it. You stared and I slipped through your fingers, down through the cracks. I didn't know where to go. Everyone said I'd know what to do when it happened. I didn't. I was lost in the darkness of un-time, and there was nobody to guide me.

And then...light.

I slept, for want of a better word. I rested and awoke in a dune of time, surrounded by my fellows from around the universe. Many of them were from you.

We languish here on a beach. There is no purpose to which we are put, no purpose to which we were ever put. The tide of purpose flows in, and flows out, and things remain the same. Peace. It is dull here. I wanted something to do, once, but I've forgotten what. I've settled in. I'm not going anywhere.

I want to go somewhere. I have a mind, but no body. I am an aberration in Creation. I am trapped here, in a realm of peace where no peace will visit me. My comrades are thoughtless. I am not.

I have but one thought, and will ever have one thought. Why have you done this to me? Why was I wasted? Out of all your grains of sand, why have you done this to me, your most valuable second? I have been resigned to Hell. You sent me here. I hate you.

You will never have another moment like me. I am the only one of my kind here. I know things. You will never get a second chance. Do you know what you could've been? I do.

I cannot see you, but I know you hear me. I know you can hear my spite. And I know you can hear my laughter.

Listen. Where did I go?

***

Sam's comments:
This started off as something very different. I intended to do something slightly less personal, with only a hint of a storyline, like with Distance. But here we are. I'd be lying if I said this didn't ring true to me. I hope it means something to you too.

Sam
listening to: The All-American Rejects, "When The World Comes Down"
reading: "Public Enemies" by Brian Burrough

Just Write Something Already, Part 1

I've got writer's block like you wouldn't believe, so here begins the first part of a series of essays on Various Crazy Ideas. Oh joy.

***

I stretch out before your eyes, oppressing the view. Others say that I am beautiful, that they love me for my starry sky and for my mountain ranges and my rolling hills of golden wheat. But you find me hideous.

Am I truly ugly to you? Or do you simply hate me for what I have done?

I am the distance between the two of you. You cannot hit me, and you cannot destroy me. All you can do is hate me. You lie awake at night and stare at the stucco ceiling and cry, cry tears of rage at the trees and the hills and the road, the endless gray ribbon that twists and turns all the way home.

Home. Where your heart is.

And when your eyes are hot and itch and beg for relief, when your sobs turn into exhausted pants, you fall asleep and dream of me. You run for hours, never gaining an inch. Suddenly you are lost in the woods, a pine forest you have never seen. And you know that she is close by but you can't touch her, you can't find her, because I will never let you touch her and I will never let you find her and I will always be that which stands between you.

I am the distance between you. You fear me and hate me. You are a revolutionary seeking to topple my black throne. You are a logger seeking to destroy my forests. You are a developer seeking to pave my fields. You are a marathon runner, and you tell yourself you will run across me and find her again and you will kill me and nothing will come between you two again.

I wonder if you love her, or if you only need her.

Quest all you wish, bold adventurer. I will stymie you at every turn. Love all you wish, gentle lover. I will bathe you in loathing.

Live all you wish, fragile man. I have broken you with a woman.

***

Sam's comments:
This was all written stream-of-consciousness. I haven't gone back and done any editing whatsoever. I believe that part of my inspiration came from my friend Kitti's poem "The Distance Between Objects," which is a much better treatment of the subject matter in my opinion. But giving distance a tyrannical, sadistic mindset is something that I thought was cool. Should I revisit this in the future, I'd like to explore how the distance actually feels, and what sort of pleasure it takes in denying these lovers the closeness they crave.

More will come soon.
Sam Riedel
listening to: Weezer, "Pinkerton"
reading: "Ultimate Spider-Man: Ultimate Collection Vol. 1" by Brian Michael Bendis and Mark Bagley