Short Assignment #3 part 1
February First Two Thousand and Seven
I’m a cheap date. I’m a lousy date. I’m a useless date. Under florescent lights, soaked in light jazz, drenched in gossip and ridicule, sitting in the corner I find myself wanting to run away. Conversation is bleak, eye contact less then none; the ticks of the clock nearby haunt my fears of dwindling lucidity. Second home to me, my familiarity with the space triggers a calming reality leaving my senses unaware of time. Latte, caramel mocha, and two shots of espresso: I am bored. Without thoughtful interaction I am nothing. Without language and meaning I am empty. Without an engaging muse I am soulless. Life stands still for the artist seeking vision, I need vision to stand life. I hate dating myself! The mirror staring back at me is lonely and afraid of the unknown. I am oblivious to what’s to come and this is frightening. Sitting in silence, for me, is the ultimate death. Interaction, communication, understanding is needed for me to create. Sitting alone, dating myself, I can’t shut the voices off in my head. I must end this date quickly. There shall not be another. The artist date should be prescribed to mindless dim-witted uninspired drones that are unable to create human characters, both in reality and fiction. This date just makes me frustrated and confused. Where is the clarity in sitting alone? To write best is to understand the world around you: if you cut yourself off from the world, how can you write better? Understand better? Create better? The repetition in my mind is increasing.