My world through someone else's voice. Part I.
//
Main:
Whenever you don't talk to someone for a long time and then you do, it's often like meeting them for the first time. In fact, I hope it's like meeting them for the first time, because there's something eerie about people that don't change over time. This is the bitch, though; on the one hand, you know the person, you're familiar with much of their history and what not, but on the other hand there's a whole lot of history that you missed out on, so you still have a concept in your head of what this person was like, even though that's not who they are anymore. I mean, isn't recent history a lot more important than ancient history? I think so. You don't see countries going to war with knights and horses, right? So how much good is chivalry gonna do you in a world with automatic guns? That's the kind of change in history I'm talking about, here.
Let's flip this around for a second. How much have I changed? Well, not much, but I haven't really had time to. See, I'm just a fictional character in the head of someone typing this on a screen. The only reason I remember knowing this person is because he remembers this person and he wanted me to remember her, too. I am only as I am created. The entirety of my life changes are laid out before you; from the beginning of this entry to know. That's how long I've existed. Perhaps less time than that. Maybe I only exist while this entry is being read, so right now, I only exist in your mind, with the writer off sleeping or working or drinking. I'm not sure why he created me with the consciousness of my own nonexistance. It was a cruel joke to play, to be sure. You'll have to forgive me for referring to these memories as my own, but they are as much mine as anything is.
But none of that is important right now, that's just my personal peeve and there's really nothing I can do to change it. It's been a long time since high school and, to be honest with you, I don't remember a whole lot about it. Most of the people are just blurs of memory, acquaintences and former classmates losing definition until they're all just one abstract mess of things that have lost their significance to me. Sure, there are friends that have stuck by me, have changed with me as I've changed and grown, and I love them all to death for it, but they're not who I'm talking about right now. I'm talking about the people that remain clarified in my memory, crystalized individuals unique if only for the fact that I still remember them. I don't know how much sense that makes to anyone.
Then we enter the Moment. The conversation holds my attention even though it's not about anything particularly important. The rum is thick in my blood, but is annoyingly lacking as far as clouding my judgement goes. Her voice is subtly different; there's an experience to it now, a strength and certainty. It's thick and flowing like a river and I slide down her voice and into her living room. It's exactly like I imagined it would be because this is simply me imagining it, but it's as real as I am, so who am I to question it's validity?
Then, of course, there's things I'm feeling, but I'm not very eloquent when it comes to articulating them. I'm much better with concepts. Can't we just stick with concepts, generalizations, vagueries? It's so much easier when you can say something is absolutist even though you know it's really not when it comes down to it. Damned application and thwarting my nefarious plans every time.
Anyway, we just clicked. Or, at least, I did. I don't know if she did because I'm not in her head right now, just yours. I don't like clicking. Clicking gives me hope and every time I start feeling hope, I end up worse off than I was to begin with. At least I have the luxury of seeing the dead end before the "what ifs" can really start getting to me the way otters get to oysters (hitting their shells with a rock). She's leaving and that simplifies the situation.
Another dead end. More "what ifs". Not settling, just ... nothing. Maybe it's a good thing that I don't exist.
Quote:"I never give in to the temptation to be difficult just for the sake of being difficult. That would be too ridiculous."-Jacques Derrida
Main:
Whenever you don't talk to someone for a long time and then you do, it's often like meeting them for the first time. In fact, I hope it's like meeting them for the first time, because there's something eerie about people that don't change over time. This is the bitch, though; on the one hand, you know the person, you're familiar with much of their history and what not, but on the other hand there's a whole lot of history that you missed out on, so you still have a concept in your head of what this person was like, even though that's not who they are anymore. I mean, isn't recent history a lot more important than ancient history? I think so. You don't see countries going to war with knights and horses, right? So how much good is chivalry gonna do you in a world with automatic guns? That's the kind of change in history I'm talking about, here.
Let's flip this around for a second. How much have I changed? Well, not much, but I haven't really had time to. See, I'm just a fictional character in the head of someone typing this on a screen. The only reason I remember knowing this person is because he remembers this person and he wanted me to remember her, too. I am only as I am created. The entirety of my life changes are laid out before you; from the beginning of this entry to know. That's how long I've existed. Perhaps less time than that. Maybe I only exist while this entry is being read, so right now, I only exist in your mind, with the writer off sleeping or working or drinking. I'm not sure why he created me with the consciousness of my own nonexistance. It was a cruel joke to play, to be sure. You'll have to forgive me for referring to these memories as my own, but they are as much mine as anything is.
But none of that is important right now, that's just my personal peeve and there's really nothing I can do to change it. It's been a long time since high school and, to be honest with you, I don't remember a whole lot about it. Most of the people are just blurs of memory, acquaintences and former classmates losing definition until they're all just one abstract mess of things that have lost their significance to me. Sure, there are friends that have stuck by me, have changed with me as I've changed and grown, and I love them all to death for it, but they're not who I'm talking about right now. I'm talking about the people that remain clarified in my memory, crystalized individuals unique if only for the fact that I still remember them. I don't know how much sense that makes to anyone.
Then we enter the Moment. The conversation holds my attention even though it's not about anything particularly important. The rum is thick in my blood, but is annoyingly lacking as far as clouding my judgement goes. Her voice is subtly different; there's an experience to it now, a strength and certainty. It's thick and flowing like a river and I slide down her voice and into her living room. It's exactly like I imagined it would be because this is simply me imagining it, but it's as real as I am, so who am I to question it's validity?
Then, of course, there's things I'm feeling, but I'm not very eloquent when it comes to articulating them. I'm much better with concepts. Can't we just stick with concepts, generalizations, vagueries? It's so much easier when you can say something is absolutist even though you know it's really not when it comes down to it. Damned application and thwarting my nefarious plans every time.
Anyway, we just clicked. Or, at least, I did. I don't know if she did because I'm not in her head right now, just yours. I don't like clicking. Clicking gives me hope and every time I start feeling hope, I end up worse off than I was to begin with. At least I have the luxury of seeing the dead end before the "what ifs" can really start getting to me the way otters get to oysters (hitting their shells with a rock). She's leaving and that simplifies the situation.
Another dead end. More "what ifs". Not settling, just ... nothing. Maybe it's a good thing that I don't exist.
Quote:"I never give in to the temptation to be difficult just for the sake of being difficult. That would be too ridiculous."-Jacques Derrida