Order!

“Now I know that none of you think you are guilty, but I assure you, one of you are guilty.”

Allegory turned to Krystal and said, “how is that even possible?”

The dominus continued, “Now I know you may be wondering how I would know how one of you are guilty when I also know that none of  you think you are guilty.  It’s sort of like how that one time Allegory told me he was feeling a sharp pain in his back and I did him the service of correcting him and telling him he was not in pain after all.  It’s all about perspective, you see.  I happen to have a different, and more correct, perspective about your guilt and Allegory’s pain than your own perspectives.”

Everyone blinked and nodded and looked to the left and looked to the right and smelled the conglomerate of foods behind the double doors behind them begin to lose heat but get it back from the flame underneath the silver but not silver dishes.

Allegory’s side body was drenched from the cascade of sweat coming from his under arms.

“I really was in pain, you know,” he was going to tell Krystal but instead told himself first because the dominus said to tell yourself something before you tell it to someone else.  A sort of reviewing process.

TBC

1/03/08: or, Meteors and the Year of Crafts

To my left there is a little China man with spectacles that are framed in a black plastic.  No, to my left is a wall.  To my right is the China man.  Sorry.“Sorry.”  It sounded like honey on her stomach.  Off-brand honey, not the good stuff.  Not that I even knew or know what that sounded or sounds like, but that’s what it sounded like to me when I said it.“You have nothing to be sorry for.”  Then she laughed and I died inside or felt alive for the first time or one or the other.  In the times that we live in it’s pretty cool to be morbid and fatalistic; but I’m sure someone thought the same thing when they were my age and are one hundred now.I don’t even know why I keep glancing at the China man.  He probably isn’t even Chinese, wait why would I judge myself quietly to myself?

[Unreadable after this last sentence, the letters have blurred on the page and it's impossible to bring them into focus with one's eyes and also with the proper tools.  The letters become clear and legible forty five pages later.]

Fir

A tiny little speck.  It moved up, following another speck just like it.  They and the others just like them were moving at a speed somewhat comprehensible, higher and higher.  But it wasn’t the kind of movement like walking or swimming to the surface of a swimming pool.

The sun, three feet above your head, beating beating down.  You can’t feel your hair but it burns burns and it drives you insane knowing how it’s aflame but really not knowing after all, then wondering if that really is the sun.

Shadows.  The cool blanket of darkness.  The heat visibly radiating from my knees, creating waves and circles under the sheet.

The trillions of specks are fatigued.  They recess into nothing, into reality like needles or a bug’s defense mechanism, and I recess into the unconscious space of my unconscious.

Restless here, resting there.  Every thing subsides.