obsession of doing it right and now got flattened like a squashed bug. Simplified. Achievable. Without a word he was reachable.
After my quick and unfulfilling inter-date-ference with Isabella at the University, I answered a call from Chris, just to hear that he is already waiting for me in front of the school's library. No questions asked, some restlessness with pinch of ennui felt. I had no time to ask, what's up, so I just went there. His choice of place became obvious in the moment I arrived. Treehorn was standing near the main entrance, but nearer the spiral staircase that led up to the roof terrace. It was well known that students call them a… cunt-rag. So predictive, Chris. And fitting, too. We shook hands and he led the way up without further ado. All I could do was looking at his dark-blue leather trousers and also leather, brown, light, summer shoes. As soon as I unearthed, his charm bubble bursted.
"So, a serious meeting without a director?! Who do you think you're dealing with?!", he stomped me, but gave time to react, when he slowly took out his smoke. Despite that he screamed moment ago, his movements were calm, learned and automatic. After all, he was an actor. He tried to play hard-boiled, but his eggs clearly didn't like the boiling temperature. So I turned the heat up.
"What the fuck, Chris?! Now you need a director?! How many times did you look in the mirror today? What if you can stand before A-N-D behind the camera? Kappishe?!", he put out all smoke he had stored in his lungs. Out of the blue, he looked appeased. He calmly stared at me. Like a dangerous dog, that after few minutes of killer barking, comes to you and gently asks for a relaxation stroke. We leaned against the terrace rail and admired outstanding panorama of the Borough. The city was glowing in the sun, proudly presenting its vast patches between Hospital, Airport and Park. It's a shame that the sun was such a rare guest here.
As the real negotiations began, I gradually deciphered, that we sit in the astonishing surroundings. The terrace was full in flowers and other representatives of flora, which Isabella surely would know its names. Green chlorophyll sources and pale blue sky made a great duo. The cause of those two mammals dressed in fancy clothes, talking about abstract ideas of making money, was such out of place, that I wanted to laugh. And cry at the same time.
"OK, so what's the project?", Christopher asked me, and I began to wonder, what he had in his cigarette. Fuck you, celebrities.
"Actually, I have two offers for you. Both scenarios would continue your stardom like 99 lives in video games arcade, but there is one question…", I hang voice in theatrical pause.
"Do you know that I hate, when someone hangs his voice in theatrical pause?", my little dog for a second remembered about his past greatness.
"It all depends in which blow job phase are you with Hollywood.", I stated, and now Chris was meditating. Indeed irritating, "Huh?".
"Wow, there are phases…", he thoughtfully sighed.
"Surprised? You're quick-timer?"
"And you're maybe not?"
"Officially, no"
"And unofficially?"
"I'm just like the rest of men"
"Ha ha, good point! To hell with hypocrisy!"
"Only one scenario has a blockbuster potential, Chris", I braced him up a little.
"Let me to decide that. At this moment both seems interesting and demanding. I will let you know tomorrow"
"Tomorrowland it is"
"But you know, the deal is sealed. I like you man"
"Waiting for decision. Here's to you", and I made a move like I was drinking whisky at one gulp.
"Likewise!"
When we left, I would not predict that our next meeting will be so disastrously weird. When I drove home, my heart acked. Oh, and Isabella rang.
LOATHING, PLEASE WAIT…
"Why does Isabella pursue change?", Jack asked himself staring on the pitch white wall.
Here, all of this could be compressed to a single universe secret. Men understand that moving on usually means pain. They can suffer to accomplish their goals, it is counted straight within the success. But men also have strong tendency to fortify their routines and not look beyond on everyday basis. While women hasten men ambition, they are the main victim of that significant pain. Paradoxically, they are far more pragmatic in actions. One can't fully live without each other. The outcome belongs to both parties equally.
"I don't simply pursue pain", Isabella thought, "Women pursue life".
She felt good about herself on the highway to Thomas.
"What does she pursue?", wondering Thomas asked himself regarding his blond friend.
He didn't feel so good. His marriage has been bad and dirty. He felt like going ahead in wet sands, only deeper and deeper. On the top of it, his best friend has met someone, which made him euphoric and gave him so much hope, but… Thomas felt so alone now… With last effort he decided not to talk to Isabella about his disastrous emotional life. He would escape from that topic as far as he can. Even to war.
Looking at his face and condo, Isabella knew from the start, what he was going through, but didn't bring that up. She didn't want to upset Thomas. That's how friends talk without words.
"Long time, no see. What's the glory?", he welcomed her with jokes, just to escape from obvious topic.
"Good to see you, Tom. I have one good and one awful news, which would you like to hear first?", Isabella hold herself stringent not to scream both at the same time. She missed him.
"The good one", Thomas knew that "good" meant monstrous and dreadful. But he was ready.
"Lately I have this, let's call him "patient" of mine, and he experienced something rather unusual yet amusing. It was Out of Body Experience, which made me thinking if also I am capable and prepared to do it myself…", her words ignited fear in Thomas'. It turned out he was ready for everything except this. OBE? What could be worse? Even he in his longing to fall wasn't looking for hope in such dangerous methods.
"What did he experienced, that was so amusing?", he decided to play the detective card in this round.
"For starters, it really worked. I mean, I should be prepared after experiencing lucid dreaming, but nevertheless, it was a refreshing discovery. And for desserts, OBE helps with some inner problems, maybe it's the ultimate solution?", Isabella took her cards and played solitaire. Now Thomas just needed to uncover card by card and get to the bottom. To the ace.
"Solution for what?"
"Why are you so offensive? I just tried to be sincere"
"Okay, okay, my bad. The most interesting thing are those problems of yours. How do you think could OBE help you?"
"I can't sleep. When I finally manage to do so, my dreams are merely visions".
"Like nightmares?".
"No, they are real as life and probable as past events".
"Oh, that's interesting. I have something to show you. Do you like chemistry?"
"I had an E"
"Extra!", Thomas turned on the computer, entered some long word and chose the first result, "Do you know what is it?", he asked Isabella.
"Dimethyltryptamine", she answered without satisfaction, "I can see the page title… Enlighten me"
On the screen the 3D rotating image of this unknown compound was intriguing for Isabella. She knew Thomas for so long, that she knew following words will be pivotal.
"You told me about weird experience of that "healed person" of yours. Meet DMT, a psychedelic substance which occurs in trace amounts in humans and all other mammals.", he already caught Isabella attention, but it was only the beginning of revelations and Thomas continued to indifferently read description from the screen, "Dimethyltryptamine effects can lead to powerful immersive experiences, usually described as a total loss of connection to conventional reality…"
"What are you implying?", she was shocked, but wanted to hear the full diagnosis.
"Here's the best part. DMT is commonly believed to have strong connection to dreams and even may be responsible for dreams themselves. I have my own theory…"
"Which is?"
"While in na
tural, undisturbed sleep, DMT is harmless, it became a ruler of our mind when experiencing lucid dreaming, not to mention out of body experience. It is deadly dangerous."
"Deadly?", Isabella voice was trembling, she was only capable to speak in the shortest phrases. She was scared.
"Look at this", he highlighted two key sentences on the screen, "DMT brain levels are periodically elevated to induce visual dreaming and other natural states of mind", he paused, "DMT may be involved in the creation of normal waking states of consciousness."
"Whoa!"
" I see that now you understand"
"Why didn't you never tell me that, when you knew that I was lucid dreaming?", it wasn't a simple reproach, friends sometimes need to prove their loyalty. These are trial moments of any friendship.
"I am fully concern that LD is safe as milk. But when you mentioned OBE, I started to worry.", true friendships pass those tests without stopping by.
"Huh… I just realized what wild idea that was", for the first time Isabella thought about Jack as a threat. She felt that she wasn't willing to go this road. But what did this intersection mean? After all, it is possible that they will meet on the next lights. She postponed those feelings, gratitude for Thomas was overwhelming. Isabella wanted to do something for him. For starters, she smiled.
"Happy to be helpful, I almost forgot how does it feel", the sorrow began to grow on him.
"Hey, we should do something together!"
"Do you have something specific on your mind?", Thomas was in the state of inability to hope.
"It's a surprise. Our duo together? This is madness!", Isabella had no idea what to do, but it turned out that her tone already cheered him up.
Three fragile human creatures, Isabella, Jack and Thomas were pursuing something in this unfriendly world. The Borough was capacious enough to accommodate all of them, but at the moment the Triforce (Threesome?) members were going in opposite directions. Fate or no fate, they were just too close to each other to grow apart, even lured by inner sirens to shipwreck on the rocky coasts. This is the greatest power of imperishable friendship. Let's hope it's bearable.
GODDYSTYLE
We have so "much" of free will that we even can't stop breathing. No matter how hard we try, we just can't do this. Why? Is this because we all are meant to fight for great achievements throughout our lives or maybe our mammal construction is just the same as other species on this planet? Cats, for instance, have the ability of committing suicide by drowning in their bowl... You can believe in only one version at the time, but it is a choice. When it comes to breathing - you can only rely on something you had been given from the beginning. I'm not trying to justify mass suicide, but these thoughts came to me as I was doing one errand after another to prepare my father's funeral. If he had a true free will, maybe he would have chosen to drown in his own farts? Nah, he didn't have the courage. If you die as a famous persona, your every flaw will become an unexpected yet unique virtue. Average people don't experience this honor, they die as they lived and our memory of them is only slightly enhanced by nostalgia. Fuck, even dying isn't fair.
Normally I would get myself together faster than lately, but something strange happened when Isabella entered - firstly my car and my life afterwards. I felt like I have more emotions every day, like my life is fuller with knowing Isabella. Like a river which gained water and began to break its borders. Everything that was overflowing were various details of my existence. It's interesting, because I began to have lesser time for such important things like organizing my father’s funeral, but I was able to sleep for over a dozen hours and dream about another version of Isabella. In my life I had few girlfriends, I can't say precisely how many, but surely under ten. Seven, maybe. Six. And I have never felt something like this, I loved them or wanted to love them, but it seems that you never know about this stuff until you really feel it. Really. I even think that my actual state is far from loving Isabella, but even now emotions are so tight and strong that they consume a fair part of my thinking.
Thankfully at this moment I was managing things that I should have done earlier and at least I wasn't thinking much of every strange question I must ask to prepare the coffin, place on the cemetery, to invite family. These phone talks are the closest in your lifetime you can approach death or god (or the God of Death) without almost any consequence. Fascinating. Of course I wasn't alone, but Alex had been working very long lately and she barely could help me. Mother was as usual off due to her poor mental condition. So, Jack had to rescue this slumber party. Always had, always will. Are there any Farts Churches?
"Hello" - young female voice over the phone usually means trouble. Older female voice? You will be asked about every goddamn detail, you haven't even realized and which are completely useless. But you will know this only just after the funeral. And men almost every time treats you like a lame version of themselves and try to arrange little virtual cockfight, while you just want to organize something or simply ask some straight questions. Will I get one of those scenarios this time? Please no.
"Yes, hi." - I don't mind she didn't pick up the phone like a machine and said the name of funeral company before hello. Thumbs up.
"Hello?"
"Erm... yes, I wanted to ask about coffins..." - are there any special offers? Bonuses if I pick up oak instead of pine. Or otherwise.
"We have a wide range of various coffins" - and the robot has been awakened - "But I recommend to come and see them for yourself, Mister."
"I don't have much time, don't you have a web page or something?"
"Of course. You will find there all of our collection" - collection? Fuck, who did hire her? - "Photos, prices, everything is there."
"Thanks, bye" - I immediately went to the internet and picked up the most classic, normal coffin. I did take me less than that whole phone talk.
Sometimes I dream about craving my father's grave with a cute "Cronus" sign written in very small, almost invisible letters just below the main dish which of course would be name, surname and dates between which he was farting and belching between. I don't like ancient tradition, but the Greeks and Romans had this incredible affection for fighting and killing your own father. It was so strong that even nowadays it is rooted in man’s genes, that at some point of our lives, everyone has this unbearable thought. Am I just like him? Better? Worse? Will I become and end the same? Can I learn from his mistakes? Simple questions for simpler-minded sex. Naturally no one sane kills his parent, but I've always loved the little things and a small Cronus tribute would be one of them. I kept thinking about it when a soft voice of an acolyte told me to wait while he will go seek for a priest, who manages cemetery places and organizes the whole funeral shit. Fortunately, this one went better and took me only a few minutes. Almost everything was prepared, the only minus was the date of the funeral, because it could take place as soon as next week. Few more days to live with the thought of my father's body lying in some cold refrigerator. I shook my head to chuck away those thoughts and called Isabella. Her soft voice once again made me feel comfortable, suddenly I again wanted to be near her, with her and into her.
When I waited for her in the park, I realized that for the first time I thought about real life Isabella, as if she was from my dreams. Almost everything was countered, in my dreams she was the cold one, while in reality I wanted to take things slowly. I couldn't figure it out, maybe my testosterone level wasn't as high as I thought? Thankfully, she was the same beautiful person in both states, it was the first time in my life when I saw someone so perfect for me, exceeding my every expectation and not in some film chick fashion, but topping any real life category, I could've thought of. She had to remind me to look into her eyes when we were speaking, because I was giving the majority of my attention to her amazing lips. They were big, but not too much, gently crafted, as if the sculptor was doing them inch by inch and he made no mistake in the whole process. Her upper lip was delicately curved to the nose so you could see small fragments of
her white teeth. When she smiled, she looked simply astounding. And she loved to laugh. I stood, waited and eventually decided to speak with her about dream personification. To tell the truth, become clear. She showed up before I had time to prepare myself but still I was convinced that it is an important thing to discuss. That thought floated away when she kissed me without saying anything. It floated like a soap bubble with my other noble idea in it. The thought of taking things slowly. I guess now at least Jack was the same in the dreams and reality. It was a warm day, we bought ice-creams from a nice old lady near the entrance to the park.
"I just want it to be over" - well, I guess the funeral wasn't the best topic to start with.
Isabella only smiled sadly and it was enough. I calmed down and stopped thinking about my father. After all, there wasn't much to do, at least nothing much, but to wait for the inevitable.
"Have you ever been to the Great Britain?" - I asked out of the blue, just to check something.
"Nope. Have you?"
"Neither. I think we should go there someday."
"I'd love to" - she embraced my hand with her palm cold from holding an ice-cream. But I felt only warmness, I become convinced that when we would check our finger prints, we would discover that they match perfectly to each other - "Whout ar you hinkin f? - Isabella asked with her mouth full of coconut ice-cream.
"How beautiful you will look in the front of the Buckingham Palace" - and we kissed with passion.
And just when we thought it would be a peaceful evening, radio in the shop near us broke up its broadcast and informed that some "unidentified guerrillas" from North Korea launched a nuclear bomb against its southern neighbor. And that, the speaker voice broke down for a moment, Seoul was no more. WarK was suddenly (for me, at least) becoming the most important and biggest conflict of our times. "Oh, go to hell!" - nothing else could've come to my mind. Not so long ago I felt godlike when I was arranging final moments of my father on this planet or when I was becoming closer to Isabella. Now, all I was feeling was being fucked by life. Doggystyle.
PASSIONATE PASSION FRUIT FRUITION
I was standing with my friend in a very long queue. It was a hot afternoon, everyone were exhausted by a sunny day which was slowly coming to an end. Some people were rubbing their foreheads with handkerchiefs to mask that they were sweating, but no one cared because the weather was fair and we smelled a perfume scent mixed with delicate, daily sweating. I thought that this combination is a very strong sexual fragrance, it was like civilization coexisting with human primal nature. There were moments when perfumes were giving stronger scent, but there were also times, when I was breathing heavily and all I've been putting