Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Words Words Word

There are too many words and no right way to put them together.

Once upon a time, the nocturnal winds whispered at my window with a voice as ragged and traveled as the oldest soul, stirring me to drop my cigarette. My down pillow caught on fire. I stopped it from spreading by folding the pillow and clapping it against itself. Flaming feathers flew around the room, as though defying the wings they were plucked from.

I thought I’d never forget the sight of wild beauty burning through the air, the smell of it dying into a crisp. Where time decayed memory, written words preserved the moment. A short story for a class remembered me, the little author girl who played with words and made characters she never had the courage to be.

Enter Faith: her white dress flowing behind and her red curls cascading down her back, threatening to burn the cloth into ashes and leave her exposed. Her smile and green eyes announce that she doesn’t care; she wants to be exposed. Her face is bare of makeup, but dotted with freckles that beg to be connected into some fascinating picture. She speaks with an unexpected husk that one can only get from experience or smoking.

“Dance with me,” she says. Anyone would be shaken by a woman with that much confidence dripping off her voice.

Faith lived on those pages for five years, entombed in neatly labeled file folders and forgotten by her creator.

“I’ve been busy,” I tell her.

She says, “With what?”

“Growing up. You should try it some time.”

“I would if you’d write me that way.”

“I didn’t know how to write it then.”

Since her birth and my abandonment of her, I’ve lived through my death and countless endings. My real name comes from the Greek for resurrection and I’ve fancied myself a phoenix. Flaming feathers fly and defy.

“Can you write it now?” she asks.

There are too many words and no right way to put them together.

8 Comments:

At 2:17 AM, Blogger Unknown said...

i might be slightly incoherent at this hour, but that post was sweeeeeeeeet. you make me want to get artsy with my next post.

cheers to the least articulate comment ever!!

 
At 10:38 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

If Jane Austen wrote like that, I might (MIGHT!) be disinclined to wretch uncontrollably while reading her.

Your real name, yes, from anastasis. Resurrection. From ana (up) + statis (standing, static). I'm glad to see that your blogging has risen from its stasis as well. :)

I think this is the first fiction of yours I've ever read. It's magically proetic. That's a word I made up to describe poetic prose. It was originally "prosetic," but that's just two letters off from being someone's fake arm.

I used to have a character I'd always write. Her name was Leah, and she was the epitome of the perfect (intelligent) woman. Of course, the protagonist always got with her in the end, despite his bumbling efforts at courtships.

Do all writers vicariously overcome their failures through their words?

Now that I'm set in a happy, loving relationship, I can only assume that Leah has been whoring herself somewhere by Union Station for the past five years.

Maybe she and Faith could turn tricks together.

Welcome back. I really did miss your words, and I'm glad you took it in the sincere and deeply thankful way I meant it.

PS - Did you really once set your pillow on fire with a cigarette?
PPS - Did you really used to smoke?
PPPS - You don't STILL smoke, do you?

 
At 11:37 AM, Blogger SR Phoenix said...

In an original draft of the story, I left my pillow too close to a candle. I think that's how it actually happened, but like I indicated, I don't really remember the incident excepting what I chose to write about it. I do remember it was true; so I think the first draft would use the truer story. But who knows?

I did used to smoke though. Not anymore... unless I'm drunk. But that's Drunk Phoenix's problem... let her worry about that.

 
At 12:40 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Does Drunk Phoenix stumble over her own two feet, burst into flames, then come out of the ashes giggling like an idiot?

If yes, then I want to meet Drunk Phoenix.

 
At 10:51 AM, Blogger SR Phoenix said...

Thanks, km! Coming from you, it really means tons and tons. And thanks for your views on the word 'entomed.' You will forever be my guru of word choice. We will be 73 years old and living on opposite sides of the globe when you will hear the dinging of the teleportation IM before I pop out of your screen just to ask what you think of the word 'encrusted.'

And jj, I forgot to mention this before, but friends don't let friends drink and comment. You don't want to get another BUI (blogging under the influence). ;oP

 
At 4:47 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

No posts in almost a week! And here I'd hoped for something of a blogging renaissance.

"Lucidly prolificate" is what I was going for.

I want adventurous tales of avarice, bellwether stories of bravery, clever anecdotes of concupiscence! The ABCs of good raconteuring!

I've never BUIed. I've DEFINETELY IMed drunk, though. The worst is when you don't realize who you're talking to, but just go for it. My poor little cousin...

So when can we expect another titillating, tempestuous and titteringly tall tale of triumph and tribulation? Of transformations and teary tete-a-tetes? Your tactful turn of the tongue tempts this taciturn telepathist terribly.

Rather (or in other words), I could sure use an entertaining blog entry to cheer me up after a trying-and-a-half day at work :)

 
At 1:40 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Stop watching TV. You're rotting your brain. Get off your ass and rot your brain updating your blog, instead.

Here's a tip - leave your blog OPEN while watching TV, then during the commercials you can write in it!

Was that bitchy? I'm sorry. They say you shouldn't rush genius, but there I went.

Fortunately, SuperProphet can [begin melodrama] SEE THE FUTURE!!! OOOOOOOHHH!!! [melodrama off].

Spirits of Time! Grant me your vision! I humbly offer you this audio tape of Amalgamated Corn's latest shareholders meeting, that time may drag on forever and ever.

Now, I shall peer [resume melodrama] INTO THE FUTURE!!! [melodrama c'est fin]

I can see it! I can see you writing a blog entry! And you're doing it TODAY! Oh joy.

Ah, but the vision is hazy, I cannot see what you're writing. The Spirits of Time are confounded by your singular brilliance of pen!

Do you ever wonder how much time I waste writing these comments?

Not as much as you'd think. It comes pretty naturally.

So how about a blog update?

Do you receive e-mail notifications of comments to your blog? 'cause you TOTALLY should.

 
At 8:20 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Did you take down one of your posts? Or did I dream it?

 

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