Black Listed - Or - The Way She Moved Reminded Me of a Film I Didn't Much Care For.
I don't care. You're just never overdressed for the situation.
The year is 2023, and Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks have fallen in love for the 23rd time. The men all carry combs in their back pockets again, brushing and sculpting their greased locks with every spare moment chance has to offer them. Women have taken to wearing their hair short and flattened to the sides of their heads with elementary school paste. The fashions have all changed, and they tell us its a change for the better. The television spouts on about horrific fashion faux pas from "The Aughts" like boot-cut jeans and ridiculous patterned shirts as we sit and laugh in our easy chairs, sipping champagne and wearing argyle. My oh my, how the times have changed...
I pulled the comb out of my back pocket and began to run it through my hair. The doctors of "The Aughts" had said that excess combing and styling product would lead to baldness, but the science of our generation discovered quite the opposite. A thorough combing was required every 17 minutes to achieve proper follicle stimulation intended for healthy hair growth. I combed my hair with great delight, reveling in the thought of my friends grandparents going bald in their early twenties. My oh my, how the times have changed...
And what about vanity you say? Well, what about vanity? Vanity, my friends, is a thing of the past! Everyone that is born today is just as gorgeous as the next person; thus, there can be no vanity if everyone coexists on an equal plane of beauty! And no, this wasn't the work of science... no, no, no... What is it you ask? Well, good genetics and proper breeding of course! We have been properly matched with a mate that complements our beauty by the office of the Plastic Surgeon General. My wife has a strong jawline and cheek bones to complement my striking good looks. We hope to create the perfect combination of protruding cheek bones and angled jawbones in our children. Her ears, while still being proportionate in order to complete her beauty, are slightly larger than the average woman's ears in order to offset my slightly below-normal-sized ears. Although people say that they cannot notice, I still feel insecure from time to time... as if my ears are a horrible disfiguration akin to that of Quasimodo. However, my wife assures me that my doubts will dissipate when I lay eyes on our perfect children. Oh, I just cannot wait for that day.
And what of the less attractive individuals? Well, "The Uggs," as we call them, have all been shipped off to Wyoming to a special reservation created just for them. They were marched along the same Trail of Tears used in the olden days to transport the Native Americans to their final resting grounds. Now isn't that simply poetic?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've been reading Vonnegut lately. I can't help but emulate his writing style to a certain extent. Perhaps that's giving myself too much credit for my writing. Not quite sure.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The listless lips unlocked from their embrace. This is a resignation. This is a lesson in futility. You smiled at me as I brought my index finger to the corner of my mouth. I brushed past my lips with the broad side of the finger, smearing a streak of blood in a diagonal across my chin. "I knew it," I snarled. "I knew you had been lying to me. You wanted me to join you in this sickness, this diseased state, and now you have your wish. You tricked me you evil, conniving bitch. You're going to pay for this."
You threw your head back in a state of hysterical laughter. Maniacal. Cold. Calculated. Cruel. You covered your nose and mouth with an open palm and brought your face back to level with mine. You pulled the hand away to reveal a blood-soaked palm. A smear of crimson ran from your nose over your mouth and down to your chin. Your smile revealed teeth streaked with swirls of scarlet red. The sun was setting behind you, and from my vantage it appeared as if you were on fire... As if you were the devil, borne of the flames of Hell...
And for some reason it took me back to a time I remember as a young man. Another lesson in futility, if you will. I found myself sitting on a bed in a familiar, yet unfamiliar room. The decor was the same, but placed on a different set of walls in a different corner of the apartment. I should have realized that I was already a stranger in this place, and for a reason, but my reckless sense of romance would not allow me to concede defeat. I whispered the words from a song that I found myself singing often during those days to you as you shed a cascade of tears...
..."the hardest thing you ever gave away was the hardest thing to keep. I am everything you wanted. I am everything you need..."
And now I am that same reckless romantic, clinging to the last shreds of the tattered sail on a sinking ship. I am sitting on the bed with you and have just finished whispering those words. I cough once, a light cough, and touch my fingertips to my lips. I draw them away and see that they are smeared with crimson. My gaze turns from my fingertips as I notice that you are smiling. As I do, I begin to cough in violent fits that cause my entire body to shake. I vomit blood on the comforter we once shared and begin to choke as my heart ascends into my throat. As my world begins to swirl and dip and fade into a star-filled night awash with clouds of grey, I notice that you are now standing above me. I am exiting your room with my back turned toward the door, being pulled away by the shadows that entrap and envelop me. And you are standing there, smiling with your arms crossed. A great light burns behind you, the flames licking at your shirt collar and rustling your hair. I fall and succumb to the darkness.
.You.Will.Always.Be.Smiling.
The year is 2023, and Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks have fallen in love for the 23rd time. The men all carry combs in their back pockets again, brushing and sculpting their greased locks with every spare moment chance has to offer them. Women have taken to wearing their hair short and flattened to the sides of their heads with elementary school paste. The fashions have all changed, and they tell us its a change for the better. The television spouts on about horrific fashion faux pas from "The Aughts" like boot-cut jeans and ridiculous patterned shirts as we sit and laugh in our easy chairs, sipping champagne and wearing argyle. My oh my, how the times have changed...
I pulled the comb out of my back pocket and began to run it through my hair. The doctors of "The Aughts" had said that excess combing and styling product would lead to baldness, but the science of our generation discovered quite the opposite. A thorough combing was required every 17 minutes to achieve proper follicle stimulation intended for healthy hair growth. I combed my hair with great delight, reveling in the thought of my friends grandparents going bald in their early twenties. My oh my, how the times have changed...
And what about vanity you say? Well, what about vanity? Vanity, my friends, is a thing of the past! Everyone that is born today is just as gorgeous as the next person; thus, there can be no vanity if everyone coexists on an equal plane of beauty! And no, this wasn't the work of science... no, no, no... What is it you ask? Well, good genetics and proper breeding of course! We have been properly matched with a mate that complements our beauty by the office of the Plastic Surgeon General. My wife has a strong jawline and cheek bones to complement my striking good looks. We hope to create the perfect combination of protruding cheek bones and angled jawbones in our children. Her ears, while still being proportionate in order to complete her beauty, are slightly larger than the average woman's ears in order to offset my slightly below-normal-sized ears. Although people say that they cannot notice, I still feel insecure from time to time... as if my ears are a horrible disfiguration akin to that of Quasimodo. However, my wife assures me that my doubts will dissipate when I lay eyes on our perfect children. Oh, I just cannot wait for that day.
And what of the less attractive individuals? Well, "The Uggs," as we call them, have all been shipped off to Wyoming to a special reservation created just for them. They were marched along the same Trail of Tears used in the olden days to transport the Native Americans to their final resting grounds. Now isn't that simply poetic?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've been reading Vonnegut lately. I can't help but emulate his writing style to a certain extent. Perhaps that's giving myself too much credit for my writing. Not quite sure.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The listless lips unlocked from their embrace. This is a resignation. This is a lesson in futility. You smiled at me as I brought my index finger to the corner of my mouth. I brushed past my lips with the broad side of the finger, smearing a streak of blood in a diagonal across my chin. "I knew it," I snarled. "I knew you had been lying to me. You wanted me to join you in this sickness, this diseased state, and now you have your wish. You tricked me you evil, conniving bitch. You're going to pay for this."
You threw your head back in a state of hysterical laughter. Maniacal. Cold. Calculated. Cruel. You covered your nose and mouth with an open palm and brought your face back to level with mine. You pulled the hand away to reveal a blood-soaked palm. A smear of crimson ran from your nose over your mouth and down to your chin. Your smile revealed teeth streaked with swirls of scarlet red. The sun was setting behind you, and from my vantage it appeared as if you were on fire... As if you were the devil, borne of the flames of Hell...
And for some reason it took me back to a time I remember as a young man. Another lesson in futility, if you will. I found myself sitting on a bed in a familiar, yet unfamiliar room. The decor was the same, but placed on a different set of walls in a different corner of the apartment. I should have realized that I was already a stranger in this place, and for a reason, but my reckless sense of romance would not allow me to concede defeat. I whispered the words from a song that I found myself singing often during those days to you as you shed a cascade of tears...
..."the hardest thing you ever gave away was the hardest thing to keep. I am everything you wanted. I am everything you need..."
And now I am that same reckless romantic, clinging to the last shreds of the tattered sail on a sinking ship. I am sitting on the bed with you and have just finished whispering those words. I cough once, a light cough, and touch my fingertips to my lips. I draw them away and see that they are smeared with crimson. My gaze turns from my fingertips as I notice that you are smiling. As I do, I begin to cough in violent fits that cause my entire body to shake. I vomit blood on the comforter we once shared and begin to choke as my heart ascends into my throat. As my world begins to swirl and dip and fade into a star-filled night awash with clouds of grey, I notice that you are now standing above me. I am exiting your room with my back turned toward the door, being pulled away by the shadows that entrap and envelop me. And you are standing there, smiling with your arms crossed. A great light burns behind you, the flames licking at your shirt collar and rustling your hair. I fall and succumb to the darkness.
.You.Will.Always.Be.Smiling.