Wednesday, January 3, 2018

1/3/2018

Heaven.

A plain, with small figures, and clouds boiling up into the sky.  A vast sky.  The figures are a small boy and an old man.  The plain is actually a field of crops.  And they are walking barefooted on a patted down mud path beneath these clouds, this sky.  The sun, by the way, is exceedingly bright and brilliant, leaving flares in the eyes of those who dare to look in its proximity.

***

I am walking along a cramped pathway.  Beside me runs the waters of the canal.  At this one point, the point where I am on now, the edge of the canal steers close to the border fence, and the presence of overgrown weeds with knife-like leaves, makes me teeter on the smooth concrete edge of the canal, with small stones skittering into the cold flow...

There are houses beyond the chainlink fence on the far side.  And I remember this scene from the Childcraft books, a scene of houses in some foreign country, with windows, each with lives.  Each with open lives in open opportunities.  Other perspectives.

I remember the song, something like that P--- I can't recall the name...  And a huge bursting sunflower, on some staircase, some slightly crumbling staircase, in the sun.  And the pathway, along Anania Drive, and seeing the yards of other houses.  Wooden stairs.  Wooden fences.  Shifted and lifted sidewalks.  The click click as you ride your bike over the electronic equipment.  I can't recall much else.  But every place has a sort of epiphenomenon, whether you are aware of it or not; it is the aura of hope or fear that you as the observer imbue upon a place.  And I suppose I imbued everything (as I recall it) with a kind of 70s air, the air of bell bottoms and hippies (post 69) and songs of sunshine and rainbows, like the Brady Bunch kind of reality...  And comic books, of malleable characters, and other things like that.  It is difficult for me to capture or evoke that sort of reality.  The reality that I recall.  People were not exactly real.  They were slightly overgrown haircuts and clean cut smiles.  Everything was slightly faded, like a picture over exposed.  And the cartoon Jonny Quest.  Which I loved.  And other things like that.  Girls.  Prepubescent (because I myself was a child).  I was surrounded by them.  And I thrived on their attentions.  I was a child, something of disgust in retrospect, living off of their figurative breasts.

The 80s mentality was somewhat different.  I was a bit more conscious, but not much.  I can't recall too much.  There were different themesongs.  At the moment, I can't hear it...

Recalling the one time we went to Kahala Mall, and seeing tons of Rubik's cubes, with fruits and other symbols.  The T1000 Sinclair computer that I used to program, in black and white.  Writing the 2 lines of code to see words scroll across the entire screen.  The overheating of it all.  OK computer.  Or rather OK TV & Appliances.  And seeing the wall of computer games.  And that place in Pearl Kai shopping center that I used to visit.  And friends who were ardent gamers (and little else).  And how I touched on a reality back then, an alternate reality, again, an epiphenomenon...  Seeking a happiness, a completion.  Games that were impossible to complete without hints.  And thinking there was a reality where someone could figure everything out.  And I was not a part of it.  It was a while before I was able to actually delve into and complete my first game.  It was an accomplishment.  Remembering the game: something about Phantasy.  Or something.  I know the third game was about Nikademus.  But I can't recall much else.  It was a pretty stupid, crappy game, actually, but I liked it.  I thought it was interesting.  It was largely due to the influence of my friend Kendall.  It was my link to him.  I recall that a friend (forget his name) inherited my characters, and thought they were pretty powerful (had a Minotaur and a Pixie, among other things)...

Remembering playing a game of stepping on the roots around a tree, when I attended summer school science classes.  And longing for the eyes and attention of some girl.  Her eyes were wide.  Lips perpetually parted, as though to speak some hidden syllable.

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