inreaction

random idea: post twice tonight, the second being a work of fiction about 400 words. no drafts, no planning.

one..two…three:

as she lay beneath the sheets, on his mattress, she pondered the blur of distinct yet continuous moments that had led her to such a position.

his seeming indifference to the world, his surprising interest in her smile–it all started so right. the winds of attraction brought both of them to their knees, off of their feet but feeling so unique. it was a blur that brought clarity, acts of generosity that surprised not the receiving half of the couple but the acting one–revealing kindness that was hitherto unknown.

and so they learned not only of each other but of themselves. there was a dangerous, inescapable notion that one day they would discover so much of their own identities that they would see they were not meant for the other. but they could not stop–they had fallen prey to multiple threads of humanity.

not only were they in love, they were in need. not only of eye contact with the other but of answers to questions they were dying to keep themselves from asking. they knew not that one day would greet them with a creeping sensation of peace–one that would not come without costs.

their creativity would flounder, as man was designed to be uninspired by calm. it was havoc that he wreaked–in chaos that he found himself. with violence man feels alive. with grief he feels that happiness once existed and may again resume.

he was gone for the morning–class, faux journalism, whatever he needed to feel fulfilled. for her part, she knew not such a need. she turned to lie on her side, angling her slender arms so her fingers met her shoulders as they lay upon one another. her eyes danced across the room she now saw in the filtered light.

it could have easily been described as minimalistic, but she knew him better. the walls were not defiantly bare, but desperate for personality. while most found him to crave isolation, she knew better. she knew he cared not for smiling, preferring instead to help those who had little reason to smile find a bit of companionship in this world.

she did not know that he would not return that day–not until he had decided to never leave her.

for much of man’s history, darkness was extremely pervasive.

electricity brought with it not only technology but the death of darkness. or at least the passing of true, solid, suffocating darkness.

in our discussion of beowulf and the classic epic, a professor mentioned how powerful the descriptions of the terror that is darkness are, and hinted as to why they strike modern readers as both hyperbole and engaging.

since the invention of electricity, darkness only exists in a modern sense for most of the “civilized” world. that is, it may be dark when we turn off all the lights in our room, but we can still see our own hands. it might be dark between street lights on sunset boulevard, but there is always some sort of light–some din of electronic life (ironic in its own sense).

as such, i find that modern descriptions of darkness–certainly including those i’ve used in my own writings–are, at best, symbolic allusions to that which once was cause for a cathartic experience of fear, allure, and seduction.

there are, of course, exceptions. that camping trip, that closet with light-tight doors–those places we seldom find ourselves in. for us, darkness is associated with shadows. shadows, however, are not seen in true darkness. true darkness would consist at once of nothingness and of a heavy blackness that could madden thinkers.

what bothers me is that this notion of not being able to discern what is really dark from what is “dark” does not only apply to darkness, but to all of our experiences.

for example, the bible makes no mention of hair or eye color. this is presumably because all those encountered by the authors [although it seems as though the divine authors would not be plagued by such ignorance] had brown hair and brown eyes.

if one does not see contrast, one sees no definition. melville’s ishmael said it in four words: “nothing exists in itself.”

and such, we are limited. i cannot imagine a world without any color–although my relationship with color is admittedly warped. but even as such, i cannot fathom not being able to see anything black. blackness is everywhere i go–at the very least in the centers of my eyes and the hair on my head.

and yet, i cannot recall seeing solid blackness anywhere in the natural world.

i’m not sure why but it saddens me that i cannot write as powerful of a description of the darkness as those who experienced it. it makes me wonder if my fascination with the way the headlights of a passing vehicle make the shadows of my legs dance on a nearby wall is not only a simple “product of my times” but a fascination that may disappear as darkness and shadows evolve yet again.

as such, it is not just the colors or sights that are lost, but the accompanying ethos we associate with them. it is unsettling to imagine our fears so fickle as to be created and eliminated by a lightbulb. but we know they are.

technology shouldn’t be able to change our experiences of nature’s “constants.”