Tantamount

"But history, as the old man puts it, weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living."

Pandora comes to on all fours encompassed by darkness. She was wandering occasionally hanging her head down to the ground, foraging for anything to eat, to drink. She needn't shelter, she's provided for. She doesn't know what she's seeking, she's following her body—the biological imperative to live. She steps off the dirt onto a bold line of concrete, no visible end left or right. Her ear twitches, she hears something to her right, she turns her head as she continues to graze forward. She is an alien standing in the dark and in the distance she spots a flicker of light. She stands on the road—confused. That distant wisp of light is curving far away from her, almost like a firefly hovering around her range of vision. She watches from afar as the light zigzags in the air. Perhaps the light provides something to nourish her. She has no past experience of lights to compare this to, none that she can recall. She has no expectations. Now what was once that firefly wisp lands on equal plane with her, no longer so distant and small, growing larger as it approaches and obscures all darkness in it's path. She suspects nothing of what this light might do to her. She has no intentions as to how she'll behave upon acquainting this light. She senses nothing predatory of it, she senses nothing life-like about it. She doesn't know what follows the light. She does not trust or distrust the light. She stares—entranced. The light and her oppose each other, contending two polars of boundless night. She is caught off guard—not to be confused with letting her guard down. Now closer, it illuminates her form. She is now self aware. The light has changed her surroundings, making them distinct, separate. She was alone, now the light invades her consciousness. Beaming closer without hesitation the light grows and blinds with every measure it gains. Though her gaze is fixed, her eyes find nothing but contraction. To jump into another stretch of earth, to continue on alone; the instinct to do so occurs to her but still she stands. She leads a carefree life, the approaching light brings weight upon her chest, into her stomach. The standard response to weight is escape (to carry on weightless, unscathed), but her feet are braced to the pavement. She is confronted with the unknown. She has no idea, she has no ideas. She has no concept of industry. A quadruped, completely nude, paralyzed; much like the addicts hands, experiencing withdrawals. All fight or flight procedures have been suspended, she's frozen in reverence of this holiest of moments. Perhaps the light will tear her apart. Fright overcomes her, she braces herself still. What it will do to her upon their embrace, she now fears. Her shadow is cast tall to her left. A lone creature in the spotlight shaking and cold as the distance closes. This oncoming light may very well not even be a car. There is nothing else in this night anymore, just that light. They're close now, she's no longer frightened but she still can not make the jump, not yet. She feels nothing more, knows nothing but closeness, familiarity. The light is steadfast on it's course. She is innocent. She is living. She is curious. She now eclipses the light. She still hasn't made a move. Perhaps the light is divine. This doe won't know until they're immersed. It immolates her silhouette now. In this moment she still has time to jump. [All perspectives must leave the scene before they make contact.]

*

Now, because I have arbitrary quotas to to fulfill for myself I'll type some non-fiction in a few hundred words. The bit posted above is in the state that I post everything on the internet: rough. Let me know what you think. Onto my life, what's to share? I am finally a server at work though I'm still training. I took my own section this evening and it was an adequate success. I've been alright, been keeping an even keel for the most part. I have a girlfriend now, she reads this, we're giving each other a chance and having fun, I think. I'm listening to Why? right now. I enjoy it. My roommate moved out this past month to begin his travels, godspeed him! I'm finding love among friends again lately, still missing some of them a lot of the time. I got my head shaved. This nonfiction is uninspired. Deal with it.

It's odd that it's been one month exactly since my last update, and it's completely by chance. If I could've typed this earlier I would've, I was having a hard time typing that thing above, this just happens to be when I completed it. (I use completed loosely.) Same with the month before that too. I find it odd that 'I' is the unconditionally capitalized pronoun, whereas 'the' is a word that is only capitalized when it's the beginning of a title or line. Whoever has my copy of Breakfast of Champions and my Choke DVD is an asshole, I hate when I lend shit to people and they just absorb it into their collection, proud that I've forgotten that they're the one who's "borrowing" it--fuck that. I'm doing that with one person's DVD and I still intend to return it if they want it. 95 words more should do the trick, I'll just end where I end whichever word on this ramble that so happens to be.

We got the internet and there was absolutely no transition between my weekly use of it into my constant use of it. I can safely say I'm still addicted. I sure am tired. I intend on buying a car when I'm 24, by that time maybe the recession will be a bit less of a burden, also I'll be part of a cheaper demographic for insurance, also hopefully I'll have saved...