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I know it's been ages... alas! No inspiration! Anyway, in case you've forgotten everything that happened, here is the rest of Undressing Rooms.
Part Eight.
‘We’ll find out when we get there’ turns into We’re here, we’re nowhere in particular, just smoking cigarettes and staring at the constellations; and Daniel likes it that way. Lying in Central Park next to Elijah, and his mouth has gotten used to the pinky-sized cylinder, he’s had four within the evening, on his fifth and Elijah’s opening another pack that’s slightly crushed from his jeans. Daniel flicks the ash off his cig, expertly now, and says casually, carelessly, “I wonder what time it is.”
Elijah glances at his watch. “It’s four-thirty.”
Daniel just laughs and takes another drag, watches Orion fade behind a cloud of carbon dioxide, reappearing majestically, faithfully. “I should really be getting back. I’ll only have about three hours of sleep, anyway. Mum‘ll wake me at eight and I‘ve got to be back at the shoot by ten.”
Daniel doesn’t think words should sound so... foreboding. Mother Praying Mantises Who Eat Their Offspring, perhaps, but not general mothers.
He turns to Elijah. “Have you ever tried meditating?”
Elijah exhales a billow of smoke. “Yeah, I’m not very good at it though. Why?”
“I think if you do it right, it feels something like this. Right now.” The sky sweeping through oblivion, dashed with stars, a slice of moon. Slight breeze, the smell of leaves and spices, lacking any care any form of repression, just being.
“Ohm.”
“What’s that me--”
“It means absolute perfection. Like nirvana. It’s another Buddhist thing,” says Elijah.
Daniel looks at his cigarette. “So this is Ohm?”
Elijah nods. “Pretty much. You’re supposed to keep being reincarnated until you reach it, and it’s like perpetual bliss.”
“So then you just die? Or are you suspended in Ohm forever?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I‘m not Buddhist.”
Daniel watches him take a drag. Irritation and frustration tickle his nerves, almost cobwebs on his palms. “Well. If this is Ohm, are we gonna die next or stay here forever?”
“Look, it’s not Ohm, alright? Why do kids always take these things so literally?”
Daniel sits up indignantly. “I’m not a kid. Don’t call me that.”
Elijah flicks away the butt of his cigarette. “I wasn’t calling you, specifically, a kid. I was saying in general, why are kids and teens so damn naive? Look,” he sits up, cross-legged, his back is longer than Daniel’s. “I meant Ohm as an analogy. I meant it like, it’s great, it’s cool, it lacks a specific adjective to describe it. It‘s evasive, right?”
Daniel nods.
“Well that’s just it, then. Ohm is like a unicorn. It’s an ethereal thing. Ya get it?”
“I guess...”
“So we’re not gonna be dying, and we’re not being suspended in this moment forever. Because now it’s quarter ‘til five, and by the time you get back you’ll get about two hour’s sleep, if your mom wakes you at eight.”
Daniel stares at his hands, they’re cold and pink, Elijah’s are alabaster.
“Are you gonna be down at the shoot tomorrow?”
“Not until four. I’ve got a radio interview this morning.”
“Hm.” Without another word, they both stand up and dust the ash off their jeans. They make their way back to the street and hail a cab. The drive is quiet, and suddenly the sleep is evident. It always is in silence.
Elijah clears his throat and says, “See ya,” just as Daniel slams the door.
Part Eight.
‘We’ll find out when we get there’ turns into We’re here, we’re nowhere in particular, just smoking cigarettes and staring at the constellations; and Daniel likes it that way. Lying in Central Park next to Elijah, and his mouth has gotten used to the pinky-sized cylinder, he’s had four within the evening, on his fifth and Elijah’s opening another pack that’s slightly crushed from his jeans. Daniel flicks the ash off his cig, expertly now, and says casually, carelessly, “I wonder what time it is.”
Elijah glances at his watch. “It’s four-thirty.”
Daniel just laughs and takes another drag, watches Orion fade behind a cloud of carbon dioxide, reappearing majestically, faithfully. “I should really be getting back. I’ll only have about three hours of sleep, anyway. Mum‘ll wake me at eight and I‘ve got to be back at the shoot by ten.”
Daniel doesn’t think words should sound so... foreboding. Mother Praying Mantises Who Eat Their Offspring, perhaps, but not general mothers.
He turns to Elijah. “Have you ever tried meditating?”
Elijah exhales a billow of smoke. “Yeah, I’m not very good at it though. Why?”
“I think if you do it right, it feels something like this. Right now.” The sky sweeping through oblivion, dashed with stars, a slice of moon. Slight breeze, the smell of leaves and spices, lacking any care any form of repression, just being.
“Ohm.”
“What’s that me--”
“It means absolute perfection. Like nirvana. It’s another Buddhist thing,” says Elijah.
Daniel looks at his cigarette. “So this is Ohm?”
Elijah nods. “Pretty much. You’re supposed to keep being reincarnated until you reach it, and it’s like perpetual bliss.”
“So then you just die? Or are you suspended in Ohm forever?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I‘m not Buddhist.”
Daniel watches him take a drag. Irritation and frustration tickle his nerves, almost cobwebs on his palms. “Well. If this is Ohm, are we gonna die next or stay here forever?”
“Look, it’s not Ohm, alright? Why do kids always take these things so literally?”
Daniel sits up indignantly. “I’m not a kid. Don’t call me that.”
Elijah flicks away the butt of his cigarette. “I wasn’t calling you, specifically, a kid. I was saying in general, why are kids and teens so damn naive? Look,” he sits up, cross-legged, his back is longer than Daniel’s. “I meant Ohm as an analogy. I meant it like, it’s great, it’s cool, it lacks a specific adjective to describe it. It‘s evasive, right?”
Daniel nods.
“Well that’s just it, then. Ohm is like a unicorn. It’s an ethereal thing. Ya get it?”
“I guess...”
“So we’re not gonna be dying, and we’re not being suspended in this moment forever. Because now it’s quarter ‘til five, and by the time you get back you’ll get about two hour’s sleep, if your mom wakes you at eight.”
Daniel stares at his hands, they’re cold and pink, Elijah’s are alabaster.
“Are you gonna be down at the shoot tomorrow?”
“Not until four. I’ve got a radio interview this morning.”
“Hm.” Without another word, they both stand up and dust the ash off their jeans. They make their way back to the street and hail a cab. The drive is quiet, and suddenly the sleep is evident. It always is in silence.
Elijah clears his throat and says, “See ya,” just as Daniel slams the door.