living in a dreamworld (convo1 2005)
she reached over and grabbed the controller.
"Darill they spell it here--no seriously wasn't it spelled with a y before?"
she thought about the fact that writing these... she didn't have to imagine anymore. alone she sat, smoking a cigarette with the sick blue of the monitor filtering through the carcinogenic smoke to happen upon her face in strange patterns.
she listened to the postal service and believed, wholeheartedly, that if Ben Gibbard were to ever write a bible she'd wait in a JK Rowling line for it. she'd pour over it and believe any semblance of life that he'd put onto paper... because if the lyrics were any way to live, surely they'd be a great example of what she had lived through in all of 2005.
he knocked on the door, and she wanted to remove a plate and ask for the password.
his response would never matter. even if she changed the password every time, he'd know.
he would walk in, toss his keys on the table, grab her and state, "Celes, I'm gonna wear you like a charm." and she'd giggle and blush and kiss him, eyes wide open.
she looks from time to time through the smoke and electric glow towards her doorhandle, where four ties hang. she thinks of the bathroom where two toothbrushes lie next to eachother, perhaps sharing secrets, exchanging gossip. someday, those toothbrushes will outlive their usefulness and eventually be thrown away--and it would be a crime to separate them.
about taboo and canoe and gambling. about awakening and never feeling unsafe. living life the same way you would normally, but with an addition. and that's what was scary. because for once the imaginations became revelations. she realized that these inconsistent meanderings never really made it out into the open world... they were all vague. Mostly... and these were vague for reasons that she never understood.
now she does
and instead of dreaming each night and bleeding it onto the paper
she thinks she can actually record these odd bits of life.
another piece of life becomes added to the puzzle, making so many other pieces clear. surely one human being should not have such power over another.
and maybe that's the magic in it.
"Darill they spell it here--no seriously wasn't it spelled with a y before?"
she thought about the fact that writing these... she didn't have to imagine anymore. alone she sat, smoking a cigarette with the sick blue of the monitor filtering through the carcinogenic smoke to happen upon her face in strange patterns.
she listened to the postal service and believed, wholeheartedly, that if Ben Gibbard were to ever write a bible she'd wait in a JK Rowling line for it. she'd pour over it and believe any semblance of life that he'd put onto paper... because if the lyrics were any way to live, surely they'd be a great example of what she had lived through in all of 2005.
he knocked on the door, and she wanted to remove a plate and ask for the password.
his response would never matter. even if she changed the password every time, he'd know.
he would walk in, toss his keys on the table, grab her and state, "Celes, I'm gonna wear you like a charm." and she'd giggle and blush and kiss him, eyes wide open.
she looks from time to time through the smoke and electric glow towards her doorhandle, where four ties hang. she thinks of the bathroom where two toothbrushes lie next to eachother, perhaps sharing secrets, exchanging gossip. someday, those toothbrushes will outlive their usefulness and eventually be thrown away--and it would be a crime to separate them.
about taboo and canoe and gambling. about awakening and never feeling unsafe. living life the same way you would normally, but with an addition. and that's what was scary. because for once the imaginations became revelations. she realized that these inconsistent meanderings never really made it out into the open world... they were all vague. Mostly... and these were vague for reasons that she never understood.
now she does
and instead of dreaming each night and bleeding it onto the paper
she thinks she can actually record these odd bits of life.
another piece of life becomes added to the puzzle, making so many other pieces clear. surely one human being should not have such power over another.
and maybe that's the magic in it.