Thursday, January 22, 2009

How Very Transcendental

I was recently asked to write some bios for a website. Just two, of friends mind you. The website will document a journey they'll be embarking on in just a few months. But man for something so simple I'm having a little trouble with the task. I'm jotting down lines in my journal like an advertising exec jots down slogans the night before a big meeting with a client. Yeah like in the movies, all pensive and frustrated ripping sheets out of a note book and throwing them at a waste basket surrounded by other crisp, freshly crumpled wads of paper (although I'm a little greener then that motion picture cliche). Writing someone else's bio, especially when affixed to a dream that is entirely their own, just doesn't come as easily as say, lamenting about it on your blog. I'm not saying I'm not up to the challenge, I'm excited about it and the ideas are electric in my brain, its the actual writing that is static for me right now. For now. 

So in an attempt to say, clear my head, I've tried to put myself in the head of these two guys, as characters or something with internal conflicts to be resolved and what not, you know the drill. 

This is what I came up with:

When you were a kid sitting in the back seat of your parent's car did you ever watch the sun flicker in between the trees as you passed by orchards? One second there'd be sunlight, bright and promising and the next there would be shadow, dark and cool. And as the car sped by all you'd see was quick and crackling light, fast and rhythmic, capturing your mind's eye in some flash animation of somewhere other than the confines of a six seater vehicle on a Sunday afternoon. But that little light show, though all your own, was really just born of an arbitrary meeting of the law-abiding velocity of your parent's car, a systemic grid of intentionally planted trees and of course your little imagination. And before you knew it you'd zip past the last tree in the orchard, the light show would stop and you were 30 years old and instead of the back seat of your parent's car, you were stuck in the driver's seat of your own still looking for someone else's optical illusion to get you through the drive.

Well, what if one day you just pulled over, hoped the fence and walked through that orchard, or sat for a while in the shade of a tree, or dare I say it picked a fruit off the damn thing and took a bite? 

Or what if one day, rather than driving by you rode your bike, and instead of  leering to your right for one more show, you just kept riding, left everything being and never returned.


Ok... Now back to those bios.

2 comments:

  1. jesus that looks uncomfortable...and unsanitary.

    ReplyDelete
  2. beautiful... I'd sit with you...
    (so this is what you do when I'm asleep?)

    ReplyDelete