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wrandomness and divinity |
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Always random, always approaching divine...
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Game #2: Bone-numbing cold. A jagged, purple scar. 11:17am. Red nail polish.
It always started the same: Gunfire. A house on fire. Enlarged grotesque shadows of horrible acts thrown on walls. A throbbing pain on a bare left ankle. Unmasterable shivers in the bone-numbing cold. A look to the sky, where the moon peeked through clouds and snow to shine light on darkness and death and pain. Then, still in the dream, she always saw herself close her eyes. The pain went away, the sounds faded, echoing like a "hello" shouted down a cave.
This time she woke up to complete darkness. A part of her thought this was a new stage of the dream. The normal cynic in her realized that it was and it wasn't. She wasn't asleep, so she wasn't dreaming in that sense. She remembered shutting all the blinds and shutters and draping heavy curtains over the last pervading attempts of the liquid-like light to invade her privacy. Complete darkness was reality challenging, and thus a good thing. Like Fight Club, she thought, thinking of the movie she had heard the audio of the previous evening as her mind and body concentrated on other activities. The darkness forced her to recognize that reality existed regardless of whether or not she could see it. She liked where that thought took her. She moved, stretched. She felt her whole body ache. In one of those inexplicable and uncontrollable motions, where the conscious mind relegates motion to the id for playtime, she reached her hands down her back. She felt the jagged, purple scar in the exact middle of her shoulders. The dream...
"Oh shit, do I have to work today?" she asked the darkness. She ran for where she guessed the blinds to be. She was off by a foot and slammed her hand into the wall, which provoked more curses from her. When the light finally poured into the room, and she had recovered from the initial blindness, she looked at the non-Indiglo, non-alarmed watch he had left on the desk. Her still blurred vision did not permit her to see it correctly. One hand was out to the right side, another towards the top... she thought. She blinked repeatedly, to try and deluge the blurriness with clarifying tears. The blurriness would have none of that though, and she unintentionally bent an eyelash into her eye, which made her drop the watch and curse again.
"Now I'm really fucking blind..." she said, and stumbled over things on her way to the shower.
Ten minutes later, she looked at herself in the mirror. The blazing sunshine threw reflected patterns on the wall. What she first perceived to be misladen paint was actually the reflection of her imprinted name badge: aleK. She rotated her torso to play with the light. She smiled, and glanced at the now uncovered digital clock on the floor below her bed: 11:17AM, it blinked. Her smile faded. The clock was blinking. It only blinked if it hadn't been reset since a power outage. Apparently it had been eleven hours and seventeen--eighteen, she noted--minutes since the power went out. She looked out the window again and noted the sun's position. It was one of those rare spring days in a new city where she really had no idea whether it was setting or rising. It was a surreal feeling to not know whether the view was of a sunset or a sunrise. Reality challenging even. She supposed she had to go outside and find out what time it was and what meal she should be eating.
She turned back to her unkind room, where bad dreams reigned after the lights went out. She shivered. She felt her back. The dream...
She glanced at her makeup cabinet, where she had jokingly labeled colors for days of the week, and other specifics. The bold red nail polish label read "SEX." She thought of High Fidelity, and how John Cusack had always dreamed of being surrounded by exotic women's underwear, but how he now knew that women only wore the good stuff on nights they knew they'd be having sex. Yea, she thought to herself, that's about right.
She skipped over "SEX," "BEACH," and "RAVE," and went right to "TUESDAY." It was Tuesday, right? She glanced over at a half-fallen wall calendar. She did the complex mental calculus needed, and she moved her hand back to "WEDNESDAY." What had happened to tuesday?
Then again, what had happened to a lot of things? Why did she have a recurring dream instead of a childhood? Why did she cry herself to sleep? Why could she never stay in one place? Why did she always look over her shoulder, even in her room alone with all the windows and doors closed? Why had the sun not moved since she last looked at it? Why did freedom seem so limiting? Why did it always end the same?
Why was she alone in the world?
Game #3: Start the Commotion by the Wise Guys on a radio, an bar overlooking an ocean vista, a ghetto roller with black lights under the chassis, an underwater discovery. Don't be obvious.
posted by
Brian J. McGuirk at 12:23 AM
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wJune 24, 2001 |
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I'll post my game response in a minute, but just check out this shit: Rotating circles trick
It's crazy. If someone can tell me why that works, I will love them forever.
posted by
Brian J. McGuirk at 11:44 PM
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wJune 12, 2001 |
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I wish Al Gore were Dick Cheney. Al Gore looks like he could be a very good behind-the-scenes operator. He looks like he could be the hatchet man, the silent organizer, the loyal footsoldier general, and be excellent in that role, but he sure does suck at being front man. He's just not built for it. Clinton, I think, recognized this, and I would not be surprised if that was the way he presented his vice-presidential offer to him: "Listen, I can move people. I can inspire. I can be charismatic. You can't. You absolutely can't, and in the back of your head you know this and you live your life to suit your skills, as do I. That said, you have good vision, good potential, and could take the vice-presidency higher. We could be a great team, but let me lead, be out in front." And I think that probably worked. But I'm pretty pissed off at the democrats for not nominating someone more charismatic and presentable. I know, it's horrible that we have gotten to this level, where we want our politicians to be like our rock stars and movie stars, but for the love of God, at least a democrat would be in the white house. Bush is destroying the universe. There is no possibility that he will have a positive impact on the country as a whole. The rich will do everything they can to reelect him. He'll be their best buddy. He'll destroy the environment while pumping more oil and giving them a great percentage of their incomes back to them. The rich will then turn the entire force of their media empires, their money, their influence, towards getting him back in office. The poor, the uneducated, who do as their beloved media tells them, will follow blindly to the polls. The forces of righteousness and freedom need someone amazingly inspirational and charismatic to counteract the effects of mass marketing. This savior better jump on the scene, and quickly, because we're getting closer and closer to crunch time. Someone needs to emerge as an undeniable front runner, a righteous, moral leader concerned for THE PEOPLE. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON'T FORGET THE PEOPLE.
Sorry, did that sound a bit anarchistic and alarmist? I didn't mean it that way... really...
posted by
Brian J. McGuirk at 7:49 PM
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The religious right is neither.
posted by
Brian J. McGuirk at 7:23 PM
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Game #1: A warm pint of guinness, moving shadows waking someone up, Memphis, TN, a conscious wrong decision. Don't be obvious. Good luck.
posted by
Brian J. McGuirk at 7:21 PM
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wJune 08, 2001 |
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Occasionally, the line "What fools these mortals be..." pops into my head, when the situations that I find in myself in are just too ridiculous for words, and I truly see the limitations of the human creature.
I also have a distinct relationship with God (don't worry, these two will come together shortly). We talk. Literally. God angers me occasionally, and vice versa, but always the communication. This weekend, I found myself extremely angry with God. He did something random and painful to many, and to what end? I know no one speaks ill of people after they've gone, out of respect, but there are different levels of missing people. There's the respectful "I'm sorry for their loss," up to an uncontrollable emotional schism of souls.
A young life was taken a way, and lives were ripped open. We cannot know the effect of one person on the world around us. The variables are too numerous. Maybe this girl could have grown up and been a Neo-Hitler, but I seriously fucking doubt it. Some good better come out of this, God, are you will have lost me. I'm dead fucking serious. You had no right. It was just an ego trip and you know it. People can't see you because they're too braindead and sidetracked so you send down the fire and brimstone and car accidents. Well fuck you. Some tangible good better result from this. Worlds had better change, and for the better. Too many people have already been hurt from your little incindeary taunting. "What fools these deities be..." Prick.
posted by
Brian J. McGuirk at 12:19 AM
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