A Selfie in the Dark

How many times can I make these same errors, these repeated blunders, before the consequences of my faulty steps come back to damage me? I never once have claimed perfection, but I do like to believe that there is something special about me.

Suddenly I am a dark corner of the drama, a stashed away secret, contained. I am the darkly brother, departed. My message lives on in a shadow, hidden beneath the foliage of jungle fog, out in places only the toughest, most dedicated, daring, and foolish peruse. Some of them seek answers. Some seek recognition. But who amongst you feast upon the repast that I lay?

I have torn myself apart, and for what good Goddamned reason? A grail slash to the gut?

I did not foresee this in my Tarot deck. But the world is full of unplanned pregnancies.

I am not so good for being friends with. How does one befriend the air or a light in the woods? I am too intangible to connect with physically.

Pretty soon you touch to realize a hollow entity, an existence away from the warm embrace of. Alien and otherworldly.

Here he is, your vampire, just another piece of Satan’s church. Illusionary.

An old man came and sat next to the information booth. He was wearing large glasses, connected by a string around his head. He was signing books. There was a young, muscled attendant indicating where he should sign.

The old man smiled at me.

The whole time he was there, I never saw anyone buy any of his books. He was not there very long.

One of my coworkers whom I have best been getting along with asks me how I would kill a giant snake.

I tell him that one time I did face a snake.

“I picked up a rock and threw it at the snake. Once the snake was incapacitated, I proceeded to use the same rock to cut its head off. After having its head disconnected from its body, both the head and the body of the snake were still moving. It was not the most effective method. How would you do it?”

He tells me that he would hypnotize the snake and make it eat itself.

It was independent bookstore day. We had a table of signed books and prints next to the information desk. One woman asked me where she could find House of Leaves. I looked it up in the system and printed her out a sticker with the book’s location on it.

Following the sticker’s advice, I took her to the staff picks section. I told her I was considering reading it. She says that she reads most of her books on a Kindle. I told her I am in the same habit, and that I didn’t know how this book would translate to a Kindle.

“That’s why I’m buying it.” she said.

When I got back to the information desk, the sticker printer was printing out a continuous stream of House of Leaves tickets. I called over a manager. She called over another manager. None of them could figure out how to fix the problem. It just kept printing out the sticker.

Lilli is standing somewhere cold, floating full on cross eyed, with the sunshine of her own light devoid of the proper channels necessary for making her voice known and her presence present. How does this then fare for the current state of currentivism?

How many of your good and amazing friends are following this text? You cannot possibly believe you are are the only one?

This is Knausgaardian. The lights above Heaven’s gates are popping in the future. Sign this, oh sign that… Please place your inscription here…

New York. The place where miracles happen, and dreams come true.