big air

I wanted to feel bernadette real bad before I left but the highways were changing colors as I looked west, and I could see the red white and blue ribbons of asphalt and concrete rolling towards the horizon, shining in the sun, calling me; so I turned away. The sky was going in every direction and I was at the center of it – millions of cubic feet of air, boiling and foaming like the weather channel or one of those speeded-up videos of the clouds.
I knew at that moment how the world worked. The vacuum cleaner in the big red building down the street sucks MY AIR through a shag carpet, and I get it back, used and dirty somehow. One man’s fart is another man’s breath. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve learned to take the air I get without complaining, but I was beginning to suspect that my heading west – away from Bernadette, towards the sun – was merely a desperate search for a more perfect air, and that I would be driven by that subconscious desire until the day I died.
Meanwhile Bernadette was spinning around and around in a trance, a kind of sufi dance. The air around her began whirling and vibrating as though it were electrically charged. Small clouds began to form over our heads; positive and negative ions beginning to cluster and spark. The tiny clouds grew darker and began to throw off bolts of lightning, followed by short bursts of rumbling thunder. Then the rain began. Bernadette continued to whirl. The thunder began pulsating in an insistent, sort of primitive rhythm which I was unable to resist. We danced in the downpour, shaking and pounding to the beat of the sky until we both fell, exhausted, purified and intoxicated by the highly ionized oxygen. I decided to stay.

(Author’s Note: This was written in 1997, long before I was an avatar, but I decided to publish it now, along with an early photo (much abused, but click to enlarge anyway) of Juliette in order to give it a “second life”.)

I wanted to feel bernadette real bad before I left but the highways were changing colors as I looked west, and I could see the red white and blue ribbons of asphalt and concrete rolling towards the horizon, shining in the sun, calling me; so I turned away. The sky was going in every direction and I was at the center of it – millions of cubic feet of air, boiling and foaming likhe weather channel or one of speeded-up video of the clouds.
I knew at that moment how the world worked. The vacuum clea. One manÕs breath is another manÕs fart. DonÕt get me wrong; IÕve learned to take the air I get without complaining, but I was beginning to suspect that my heading west – away from Bernadette, towards the sun – was merely a desperate search for a perfect e on the weather channel or one of those speeded-up videos of the clouds.
I knew at that moment how the world worked. The vacuum cleaner in the big red building down the street sucks MY AIR through a shag carpet, and I get it back, used and dirty somehowwhe sun – was merely a desperate search for a more perfect air, and that I would be driven by that subconscious desire until the day I died.
Meanwhile Bernadette was spinning around and around in a sort of trance, a kind of sufi dance. The air around her began whirling and vibrating as though it were electrically charged. Small clouds began to form over our heads; positive and negative ions beginning to cluster and spark. The tiny clouds grew darker and began to throw off these intense little btle bow off bolts of lightning, followed by short bursts of rumbling thunder. Then the rain began. Bernadette continued to whirl. The thunder began pulsating in an insistent, sort of primitive rhythm which I was unable to resi danced in the downpour, shaking and poundist. We danced in the downpour, shaking and pounding to the beat of the sky, until we both fell, exhausted, purified and intoxicated by the highly ionized oxygen. I decided to stay. 

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2 Responses to big air

  1. Karima says:

    “she-rezz-for-me”(the title of your great picture) and what a relationship you two forged! The flashback of Bernadette, the highway behind Juliette, magic memories in the making..decisions changing in mid thunderstorm..I just really liked this little glimpse into your writings of way back then. Not hard to translate and interchange both lives, the 1997 RL voice and the avatar who fell in love with Juliette. If this is a little taste cart of things to come in the future, I most certainly will try all of them:)

  2. Chrome says:

    Thanks, Karima. Yeah, I was surprised to discover while rummaging around in the archives that many of my earlier writings had the surreal, dreamlike quality of this new virtual world we live in. Now, with your encouragement, I may just dig even deeper into that dusty old cabinet. :)

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