Wednesday May 27, 2009 (8:30am)
In highschool and I had a final exam. The class was called 'science' but the test was on Nietzsche. I was up reading all night. By morning, I had an epiphany while looking at a large white net. I said, "life isn't the net, life is what is left after the net sweeps through." I felt prepared for the test. When I arrived in class, the professor had rearranged our desks backwards. I was still sitting next to ***. My test, as the rest of them, was on 11x17 paper. There was a large axis down every page with instructions to plot angles. The first was 20 degrees. The axis was covered in cake, frosted and jellied. It looked like a cake cross. This made the test impossible--everyone else was managing, but I was covered in cake. There was no Nietzsche on the test. I tried wiping the cake away but no use. My ruler was covered in goo. I could not get the pencil to draw a line because it was inundated in cake debris. I confronted the teacher. She told me I could take the test another day and asked if I had anymore classes to worry about. I said I did but I couldn't remember which ones. My classmates were whipping through the test. They had arrived at shapes by drawing the angles. Everyone had different shapes.
Wednesday January 13, 2010 (8:20am)
I was living in a residence, a super-structure of proportions that could only be achieved in the span of multiple lifetimes, magnificent. Dark, ornate wood-paneled walls with intricate and graphically arranged moldings, wood-banistered staircases. Floors upon floors of apartments: no two alike from what I could tell. One room with blue wood, like an Escher cube drawing, tessellating and repeating. The building was so long that there was an underground subway to transport the staff. The residence had a full service concierge staff. For as large as it was, an indoor city of sorts, there were no retail spaces. The concierges brought everything we could need to our doorsteps (presumably from the outside) and residents of the super-structure appeared to never venture outside. Instead they roamed the hallways. Many rooms were vacant, observatories, or for communal use. I roamed many halls. In my own space, I discovered a secret room, it was a bunker--a safe room. Behind the kitchen, past a set of two false walls. These rooms were in each separate apartment. For some reason, residents were not informed that they existed. I discovered mine by accident, and assumed I was the only one who had. I had some friends over to my place. We stood by the window and looked outside. Straight across the way, in the building next to the super residence, was a pair of sniper assassins. I instantly wanted to take a picture of them, discretely so as not to draw attention. Futile attempts to casually aim the lens were made. My guests were constantly following where my lens was pointing. I did not want to endanger them.
A series of natural disasters began to occur on the outside. The disasters completely usurped civilization and the society outside began to revolt in pandemonium. The residents were advised to accept a 'cruise' to 'Australia,' in order to avoid becoming entangled in the demolition of civilization. While aboard the ship, a rather ramshackle vessel, we passed many continents. They were experiencing like disaster and pandemonium. The ocean was littered with the debris of catastrophe and war and chaos. Pieces of billboards bobbed on the surface like large barges. I saw a Marlboro billboard and suggested to my fellow passengers that we board it and throw a party. (They did not heed my brilliant suggestion.)
When we reached the 'resort' in 'Australia,' there was no land, only another superstructure floating in the sea. All that was left of the continent was this structure. It was basically a giant swimming pool, a Romanesque, white, inverted Ziggurat of many sections, larger than should be possible. At the edge of the structure oceanic waves crashed against the outer walls; inside, chlorinated waves lapped against the wall. Everyday there were swimming and diving competitions for the residents to participate in. They were obviously a distraction. I competed in all of them, always losing to the same woman. I was competing to win the attention of the residents. I needed to tell them that they could not stay. They could not stay in their isolationist vacation while their world was being destroyed, while their homes disappeared. I needed to tell them that the possibility of returning home became more remote the longer they stayed. I could never win the chance.
The sky around Australia was darkened by the dust cloud of the world crumbling. But the cerulean of the chlorinated water in the white pools projected a bright blue sky over the resort. The people believed it was real sunshine.