(no subject)
I bent my head towards the sun as it came to meet me.
"Where are you going?" I asked her, looking down.
"To get some cigarettes."
Despite the warm evening the cheerless nature of my spirits had cast a frosty shield across me, and despite my sore throat I had been smoking all day.
"I've already got some." "Thanks," she said, taking a cigarette from me.
"What are you doing today?"
"Probably nothing, I don't really have any plans."
"We could get some coffee?"
"Lets."
She stood up as the wind blew and feeling cold I almost cried.
"Where should we go?" I asked.
"I don't know, where do you want to go?"
"There's a coffee shop by the water."
"That sounds fun."
Standing, I said: Do you drink coffee much?
"Yes, I do. I drink it all the time."
"Oh?"
My car crammed gas into the atmosphere as she sat beside me in the front seat looking tired. For a moment I lost my eyes to the ocean until I heard someone honk and once again began to concentrate.
"You wouldn't believe it," I said. "I was leaving my house yesterday when my fucking neighbor walked over to me and asked if I would mow his lawn while he was on vacation." "That's strange," she said.
"Yes, I know. I couldn't believe it. I said that I might be gone too so he should probably ask someone else."
"I wonder where he's going on his vacation."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I guess because I wish that I was going somewhere."
As she finished speaking I glanced at her face and the sun behind the window framing her fell to the water. The sky shook down the glimmer of a wild universe in stars, pouring onto her pale figure the decorations of a dying galaxy. Her delicate arms folded like two reeds around her legs, but what she had thus thoughtlessly arranged was so beautiful that should Michelangelo have been allowed an extra decade in the Sistine Chapel he could not have discovered a lovelier form. Her skeletal body seemed like it could have been crushed any minute, and from the contrast between that fragility and the ungentle earth which surrounded it there was created an ambience of sadness, for I felt that in my weakness I could not save her from what I too was a part of. She was a testament to the strength of purity against the phantom pleasures of vulgar mirth, for the purest beauty is always fragile not only because its essence is the antipode of the entire earth which holds it, but because that essence originates from an earthly life. And this paradox, that such a girl could be the culmination of humanity's chaos was like watching Neptune tumbling from a bed of lice. Still there she was! Though the significance of this moment was not in that she was sitting beside me now but in that she had been allowed to exist at all among the sadness of what still remained in the rest of reality and in my memory. As we continued driving sheets from a greying nimbus fell in drops of post-sky, and I tried to talk but couldn't for fear of drowning out the sound of her breath.
When we got to the café I ordered us some coffee and we sat down at a table.
"So, have you been writing any songs lately?" I asked her.
"A few. But they're no good."
"They're no good? Why?"
"They just don't sound good. I think they're shit basically." Through the lense of her delicate mouth she transformed into beauty the nothingness of random chattering.
"Perhaps you could show them to me sometime, I would like to hear them."
"You would?" she said, mixing innocence with surprise.
"Yes."
"No one has ever really wanted to hear them, maybe I will show you."
"That would be nice."
Suddenly I felt overcome with sorrow.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
Where came the sadness that crept through the calm of this peaceful minute?
"Yes."
"Alright."
Not finding a place to land in the ambiguity of my responses I could feel her heart circle above me and fly away into the distance.
"Well," I said, trying to call it back. "I am sad actually."
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know really, sometimes I just get sad." "Sometimes I do too, so I know what you mean," she said consolingly. And then in a completely different tone, "How is it living with your brother? I wish that I could have stayed a few extra days and said good bye properly."
"Yes, that would have been good. But you may not have wanted to continue seeing me in the absurd state I was in before you left."
"What state was that?"
"I don't know, you were there. How would you describe it?"
"Hurt in someway? At a loss with life."
"Hurt. I suppose that's right."
"Can I ask why?"
"You could, but you would be opening up a pandora's box of humiliation."
"Perhaps I shouldn't. I mean, if you want to tell me then please do. I'm curious, but if its going to hurt you even more to tell me then I don't want you to say anything."
"No. It wouldn't hurt more. Its just that it wouldn't make much sense and it might make me look like a lunatic."
"Don't be silly. Trust me, there is nothing you can say that will make me think of you as a lunatic."
"Are you sure? How do you know?"
"Because I know," she said.
"I'll tell you later."
I took a sip of coffee.
"I'm going to add some cream to this," I said, getting up.
After a few more minutes we decided to walk to the beach. On the way there we barely spoke but when we reached the waves I said, "I would like to tell you about a car ride I had yesterday."
"Alright," she said softly.
I thought for a moment and said, "No, there was no car ride. I'm sorry, I really don't know what I was thinking."
"Oh," she said, slightly confused.
Over the next few moments the sound of the waves began slowly to capture the entirety of my attention, until almost an hour later when the singing of a distant whale rejuvinated the landscape of this desolate place and I remembered that she was there.
"Where are you going?" I asked her, looking down.
"To get some cigarettes."
Despite the warm evening the cheerless nature of my spirits had cast a frosty shield across me, and despite my sore throat I had been smoking all day.
"I've already got some." "Thanks," she said, taking a cigarette from me.
"What are you doing today?"
"Probably nothing, I don't really have any plans."
"We could get some coffee?"
"Lets."
She stood up as the wind blew and feeling cold I almost cried.
"Where should we go?" I asked.
"I don't know, where do you want to go?"
"There's a coffee shop by the water."
"That sounds fun."
Standing, I said: Do you drink coffee much?
"Yes, I do. I drink it all the time."
"Oh?"
My car crammed gas into the atmosphere as she sat beside me in the front seat looking tired. For a moment I lost my eyes to the ocean until I heard someone honk and once again began to concentrate.
"You wouldn't believe it," I said. "I was leaving my house yesterday when my fucking neighbor walked over to me and asked if I would mow his lawn while he was on vacation." "That's strange," she said.
"Yes, I know. I couldn't believe it. I said that I might be gone too so he should probably ask someone else."
"I wonder where he's going on his vacation."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I guess because I wish that I was going somewhere."
As she finished speaking I glanced at her face and the sun behind the window framing her fell to the water. The sky shook down the glimmer of a wild universe in stars, pouring onto her pale figure the decorations of a dying galaxy. Her delicate arms folded like two reeds around her legs, but what she had thus thoughtlessly arranged was so beautiful that should Michelangelo have been allowed an extra decade in the Sistine Chapel he could not have discovered a lovelier form. Her skeletal body seemed like it could have been crushed any minute, and from the contrast between that fragility and the ungentle earth which surrounded it there was created an ambience of sadness, for I felt that in my weakness I could not save her from what I too was a part of. She was a testament to the strength of purity against the phantom pleasures of vulgar mirth, for the purest beauty is always fragile not only because its essence is the antipode of the entire earth which holds it, but because that essence originates from an earthly life. And this paradox, that such a girl could be the culmination of humanity's chaos was like watching Neptune tumbling from a bed of lice. Still there she was! Though the significance of this moment was not in that she was sitting beside me now but in that she had been allowed to exist at all among the sadness of what still remained in the rest of reality and in my memory. As we continued driving sheets from a greying nimbus fell in drops of post-sky, and I tried to talk but couldn't for fear of drowning out the sound of her breath.
When we got to the café I ordered us some coffee and we sat down at a table.
"So, have you been writing any songs lately?" I asked her.
"A few. But they're no good."
"They're no good? Why?"
"They just don't sound good. I think they're shit basically." Through the lense of her delicate mouth she transformed into beauty the nothingness of random chattering.
"Perhaps you could show them to me sometime, I would like to hear them."
"You would?" she said, mixing innocence with surprise.
"Yes."
"No one has ever really wanted to hear them, maybe I will show you."
"That would be nice."
Suddenly I felt overcome with sorrow.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
Where came the sadness that crept through the calm of this peaceful minute?
"Yes."
"Alright."
Not finding a place to land in the ambiguity of my responses I could feel her heart circle above me and fly away into the distance.
"Well," I said, trying to call it back. "I am sad actually."
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know really, sometimes I just get sad." "Sometimes I do too, so I know what you mean," she said consolingly. And then in a completely different tone, "How is it living with your brother? I wish that I could have stayed a few extra days and said good bye properly."
"Yes, that would have been good. But you may not have wanted to continue seeing me in the absurd state I was in before you left."
"What state was that?"
"I don't know, you were there. How would you describe it?"
"Hurt in someway? At a loss with life."
"Hurt. I suppose that's right."
"Can I ask why?"
"You could, but you would be opening up a pandora's box of humiliation."
"Perhaps I shouldn't. I mean, if you want to tell me then please do. I'm curious, but if its going to hurt you even more to tell me then I don't want you to say anything."
"No. It wouldn't hurt more. Its just that it wouldn't make much sense and it might make me look like a lunatic."
"Don't be silly. Trust me, there is nothing you can say that will make me think of you as a lunatic."
"Are you sure? How do you know?"
"Because I know," she said.
"I'll tell you later."
I took a sip of coffee.
"I'm going to add some cream to this," I said, getting up.
After a few more minutes we decided to walk to the beach. On the way there we barely spoke but when we reached the waves I said, "I would like to tell you about a car ride I had yesterday."
"Alright," she said softly.
I thought for a moment and said, "No, there was no car ride. I'm sorry, I really don't know what I was thinking."
"Oh," she said, slightly confused.
Over the next few moments the sound of the waves began slowly to capture the entirety of my attention, until almost an hour later when the singing of a distant whale rejuvinated the landscape of this desolate place and I remembered that she was there.