SWATH

i’m thinking about binding together all my free-writes from this year into some sort of book. the only difficulty i’m having is, no one would understand it. it’s just a barrage of sentences with no structure, thin narrative threads and deeply buried themes. imagine a series of songs whose melodies are lost under thick sheets of white noise. i guess i could just break them up into different sections and write introductions for each. they lump together pretty easily. their either about girls (the same girl, most of them) or me. each one is between 750 and 1000 words. i guess i’ll just give you just a snippet of one, and your job is simply to tell me “it’s not worth it, evan.”

2005-03-17 end of the line

“the remains of the day weigh heavily on your conscience as the earth rotates towards the dawn of a new day. outside, the humid air is humming through a sliver of available space in your bedroom window. steadily the voice at the end of the line finds its bearings and begins to empathize. for years it seemed like no one cared to listen, and the fear of spoken words brought titans tumbling to their knees. plead for someone to vanquish the curse that sits atop your shoulders, that struck you deaf and dumb. numbing the pain with self-medication and a self-contained lifestyle will not make this go away. remember how the voice sighed gently and asked you to go to bed, to dream dreams and forget about everything? there is a powerful force outside the walls of your room that may loom over you at times, but it is there to teach you to hope. spoke in hushed tones, lest someone should overhear you at this ungodly hour and discover the origins of that voice. spring was blooming and birds were singing. cars zoomed past and lightning flashed. it startled you and forced you beneath the covers. with your knees pulled to your chest in a ball you rocked back and forth, a phone to your ear, listening for any clear indication of reassurance. you shared pieces of your history, wishes and dreams, for a moment it seemed the fear would subside, dissipate like smoke exhaled from your lungs. you climbed another rung on the ladder tonight and when you finally turned off the bedroom lights you were young and in awe of the strength instilled by your faraway friend. resolved to sleep, your head on a cool pillow as dust scattered with short, stiff gusts of wind. wound up like yarn from some unfinished scarf that is been left in a tangled mess, a relic incomplete. close your eyes and draw two figures in sand. when you awaken everything has changed. amity has been displaced. all that remains is a ghost bound by chains and the dry, warped paint on the backs of your eyes. i was the voice at the end of the line to warm your insides and say everything was alright. we used to speak on the darkest of nights when the world slept away safe as houses. the world seemed large enough to hide yourself and never face consequences. this you do not bother to remember. no, not today. you are that cold.”