Short Stories from Aesthetic Life, Page 3

"ultraomnipotience" that the doctors and poets have. I am not sure I can make the wisest choices like I want to make, or even if I know I have wisdom enough to make those choices if I were presented with the possibility of considering those choices. What I was hoping you could tell me is if relationship progression is a disease. I know I put you on the spot here and had you sit down with me to talk about this. I am a little afraid of where I am going with Sophia. I am really afraid there's a hell.

      I guess I am done for now. If you see the waiter, will you order me a glass of water?

   

    

  I let others inspire my words and then fought to make them mine. Quote them and me in the same sentence – make me famous! (2007).

   

  I Reflected and Made You Mine

   

   

      I wrote you onto paper

  so I could try to show everyone else in the world that your artistic movements and graceful syntax was worthy of honor and dignity and literature and praise

  so that when the kids would look back on women in the 21st century they would see

  that this was the ideal that all aspired to

  and that men searched in vain to try and find a worthy woman of high caliber with art erupting from her hair and eyes and skin

  and molecules moving from her hand gestures that (did or didn't, I really don't care) end up touching and moving the aesthetic senses of those lost in a world of cold magazine mannequins that howl and blow with the right combination of money and power and alcohol.

      But there was too much action for me to try and paint the everything you did so that the people looking at the painting would actually understand all the small intricacies of the things you'd do because I didn't want open interpretations

  or even the option of someone missing my meaning

  but instead I wanted to make sure the clarity of what I said so all the kids in the future would remember that ideal women look, feel and act like this simple grace

  and they could ignore the magazines and lifeless mannequins on store shelves like whores and strippers screaming for attention to acquire money and non-valuable things.

      Then they told me how to draw you

  and once their greedy teacher hands touched mine and imparted their own flavor of artistic creativity, they destroyed originality and left a page of erased circles and penciled boutique hair.

   

  I felt I found an escape from aesthetic life. Then fortune's wheel turned, and I realized I was stuck for a little longer; relieved my state wasn't permanent. (2009)

   

  When the Choir Sings Fortune

   

      It's good to see you again! I've got to get started because I've got work in the morning and I want to devote as much time to hearing your advice as possible. Please have a seat and I'll try to get the waitress back over here. While we wait, I wanted to ask you if you believe that things are ever the same. Think about it for a minute. Those people over there have identical looking glasses but they are made of different things at the very core, right? And, like, situations are never the same either. I read page ten of that D'Souza book yesterday and page ten today and everything was different – I was a day older and so was the book. It isn't the same, right? Everything seems so different. You look perplexed. It'll make sense once I get into my story, but I want to make sure I give you some background for why I asked you to come.

      Where was I? Oh, I wanted to ask you something. Do you believe in dooms of love? I was trying to understand because Cummings wrote about it. What do you think it means? They just don't seem to go together. I don't think many people give it much thought because I say it all the time and nobody ever questions me about it. They sort of accept it and just move on. I figured you wouldn't do that to me and, of all people, you would hold me the most accountable. So, like seriously, stop me at anytime and ask your questions. If not, I'll just keep going.

      But that just seems to be the way my life is. Honestly man, I move through dooms of love. Whenever we had our last drink, I kept going on and on about how Sophia is one of those non-syntax-type people. The non-syntax-type people, those are the ones, man. Those are the ones. Sorry, I mean those are the ones that take you through those dooms of love. That's what Sophia does and she is the one.

      Like two weeks ago, when I was in the mall, I saw a couple walking hand-in-hand, talking about nothing. I followed them for a little bit, but I just couldn't stand it. It was like watching a train wreck. It reminded me of this time when I was young, my friends bet me five dollars I couldn't ride down this really steep hill. I knew I was going to fall, but they kept harassing me and you know, they were being kids, and eventually I just got on my bike. That fear, let me tell you, that's the same feeling I felt when I heard that young couple talking. They were going through those dooms of love. I heard it, man, you should have been there. I think it would have made a lot more sense if you just heard what they were talking about. I fell off that bike as well. That's how I got the huge scar next to the tattoo on my arm. Did I tell you that before? Whenever I feel that scar, it just sort of reminds me that I was going to fall off that bike no matter what, but I couldn't just tell those kids I was going to fall because they wouldn't have believed me. I wanted to tell that couple they were going to fall, but they wouldn't have listened to me anyways. Kind of makes the whole thing pointless.

      Sorry, I keep getting distracted with this background stuff. I just wanted you here so I could vent some of my frustrations and then listen to your advice. But without all the background and context, it seemed like you couldn't give me any suggestions at all. Sophia just seems to pick random fights with me for no reason. We were in the car last week and she asked me why I didn't sit next to her at dinner when we were with Melissa and her group. Oh, Melissa says "hi" by the way. Anyways, I just said I sat down at the closest spot, but she was committed to the idea that it didn't matter. I just kept thinking it was totally fine to sit wherever I wanted and that she wouldn't care where I sat. Holy hell, man, I was totally wrong on that. What a misjudgment. And seriously, talk about dooms of love. Who the hell would fight over where we sit? The whole nine yards too man; she literally screamed at me during the fight with tears and everything. I mean, seriously, I spent the whole fight frustrated on the outside but laughing on the inside. It felt like middle school again.

      This other time, we fought over how often I talked to my ex-girlfriend. I can understand that if I were to talk to her like every day, maybe Sophia would have a reason to be uncomfortable. But we hadn't talked for over a month. Sophia kept asking me how often I talked with my ex, and I just wanted to get to something else. How the hell should I know how often we talk? Like, we talk every so often, but that answer seemed too evasive for her. What, it isn't clear enough for you? You can laugh now, but if you were there, that grin you have would be gone. And the worst part, like I really messed this one up, she just kept pressing it, so I handed her my phone in anger. "Here. Look yourself," I told her. My tone was pretty argumentative, too. No need to preach to the choir, but I was the most frustrated at her I think I'd ever been. I was just so damn tired of dealing with it. Our fights are like the "griefs of joy."

      I don't think you would understand what I mean by this, but I have to say it because it sounds so beautiful. Fate moves like a wheel, "quod sua michi munera, subtrahit rebellis." That felt good to remember. Just puts all the great lyrics of Carmina Burana right into my head. There just aren't enough situations to use such wonderful music. Everything in that seemed German, right? I can't remember. They had the Latin and there was some German too...no need to ruin beauty with German, though.

      But that isn't why I wanted to talk with you today. This is still all background, so no need to worry about giving me any advice yet. I think I solved most of these problems, or at least moved past them. Ok, so what was I saying? Oh yeah, I was talking about griefs
of joy. I once read how friendship should be amplifying joy and dividing grief. It just seems strange to me that Sophia would be doubling my grief and dividing my joy. Well, that sounds pretty harsh. I think I should retract that and instead concentrate on the whole dividing part. Actually, forget that whole discussion. Also, please don't mention I said that about Sophia. It's gone, man, no longer the same. Remember how I asked you if anything was ever the same? This is a time where it isn't – because I never really mentioned the dividing joy. I think if I talked too much on Sophia and grief I wouldn't be able to get an unbiased opinion from you. By the way, if I come off as angry or still frustrated at the whole thing just let me know. I think if you told me, I could calm myself a bit, perhaps order another drink or head to the bathroom, and then continue. I promise I don't want tonight to be a long monologue; I just want some good advice.

      On that quick note, I did want to thank you again for talking to me. You don't know Sophia as well as I do, but it seemed like you two got along ok when we met before. I know you would probably always take my side just because you know me so much better, but try to take as objective of an opinion as possible. I have a problem I need solved and the discussion will really help me.

      It's getting hard, let me tell you. I don't want