'what is that?'
a boat.
'can it swim?'
'with or against the current?'
either way i suppose, like most boats.
'i like it. it looks nothing like other boats. did you make it?'
'with your hands?'
and mind.
'and heart?'
yes. and heart.
'do you ever wish you could sleep forever? i mean, not in a morbid, i want to die sort of way. just sleep while you maintain your day to day life.'
do you?
'sometimes, yes. its impossible i know.'
i guess it is, yes.
'but i could be put in a coma for a year or two, let everything change around me and then i'd wake up and i'd be the same but you'd be different in some way.'
in a lot of ways. i might forget your name or not recognize your face. maybe you could finally grow a beard.
'ha, yes. maybe i could. maybe in that time you'd meet someone else and he might influence you in such a way that i would no longer be attracted to you or we wouldn't be able to have conversations like this because maybe he'd make you watch a lot of television and inhibit your imagination and conversation skills.'
what do you mean?
'i mean, you're exactly like you are now because you have me and vice versa. if we would have never met you would be different in every sort of way.'
not every sort of way.
'well, a lot of ways. maybe you would have never started painting again or you wouldn't of had that dream that made you stop eating meat.'
maybe, you're right.
'maybe, maybe not. but every interaction we have on a day to day basis changes on a smaller scale the rest of the day after and a larger scale the rest of our life after. like, if we wouldn't have had breakfast this morning and you wouldn't have told me about the fruit stand on broadway, i wouldn't have went there and found the five dollar bill next to the sewer channel. maybe i would have had breakfast by myself or someone else in this or another apartment and maybe i would have walked to a fruit stand or a video store on the other side of town and got hit by a car or met some girl named lauren and we would start to date and get married and i wouldn't ever wonder about sleeping the rest of my life or you with another guy while i was in a coma.'
you found a five dollar bill on the way to the fruit stand?
'yes. i bought you this fish tank with it, for your boat.'
want to see if it swims?
'more than anything.'
we can put little fish inside of it.
'like noah's ark.'
two of everything.
'do you always think in pairs? or couples?'
yes, well, most of the time.
'why is that?'
i don't like to picture anyone or anything alone. everyone needs someone.
'maybe that was noah's rationale. maybe he didn't talk to god.'
maybe there wasn't any flood.
'maybe he was the ancient world's greatest matchmaker.'
maybe, but probably not.
'do you ever wish that everyone you knew was the same as you?'
why would i wish that?
'there wouldn't ever be any awkward moments in conversation. i always know what to say to myself, but not other people. you could read everyone's minds. like, when you move your eyebrows the way you are right now, i never know what that means. but if you were the same person as me and you moved your eyebrows like that, i would know what you are thinking because i know what im thinking when i move my eyebrows like that. make sense?'
sure, i guess. why do you think like that?
'i don't really, at least not all the time. sometimes you wonder though, you know?'
it floats!
'hah, perfect!'
it is perfect.
but sometimes its not. when i wake up you might be gone. i put this in brackets so you couldn't hear it. sometimes i feel you're distant, not all the time, especially not right now, but sometimes. when you don't answer my questions or when you fall asleep while im in the middle of a significant revelation. when you spoon your soup over and over and never eat it. but not right now. right now we're fine, organically, metaphysically, politically, everything's fine. i'm afraid though if i miss one word on a cue card or an accent on this bracketed section you might leave and i'll miss your luggage and the way you carry it. but not right now, everything's fine, emotionally, philosophically, theologically, everything's perfect,

Last edited by rushmore at Nov 7, 2009,
I think you repeat the word perfect too many times in a row in the beginning of the brackets, and I'm not sure I understand why you split some of them into two lines towards the end. Other than that, the bracketed part is great. Only way to really describe it is that it hits the nail right on the head, and pretty hard.

Thank you.
Today I feel electric grey
I hope tomorrow, neon black
Damn this was good. I just think you should make a few tiny changes around the middle of the piece, just so the conversation flows a little better. But damn I liked this.

EDIT: V I thought the ending was really well done, it was the build up to it that I feel could just do with a second look.
Last edited by michal23 at Nov 6, 2009,
thank you both. perfect at the end is hesitance on behalf of the character. nothings perfect, sometimes it seems close. im sure i could have expressed that in a better way but, idk. the choppiness to me resembled clumsiness.
Oh my god, how many times have i been in a conversation like that a felt exactly what those brackets say? You captured everythign so beautifully, the quiry, engaged, wholesome conversation and the deep connection it showed, then those brief moments where the tin tiny tiny cracks show. It was like watching the last year of my life all over again. Thank you for doing this how you did and giving it the justice it deserved. If you could, could you please have a read of my new short story series (the links are top of my sig).
im glad to hear that^. i tried to write this on the most human level possible. its not perfect but reality never is, theres flaws and cracks and ect.
i will look at yours of course.
Last edited by rushmore at Nov 6, 2009,
Quote by rushmore
thank you both. perfect at the end is hesitance on behalf of the character. nothings perfect, sometimes it seems close. im sure i could have expressed that in a better way but, idk. the choppiness to me resembled clumsiness.

I picked up on the idea of things not being perfect but not the clumsiness. The second chop seemed a bit repetitive and didn't work as well as the 'syllable chop'.

Everything was very... relatable? real? true? life-like? dare I say 'perfect'?
Promises meant a lot back then.