Life is fiction.
Prove that it isn’t. I dare you. You may as well debate the existence of God. Spoiler alert: atheists can’t prove that God doesn’t exist and believers can’t prove that God does exist. Conundrum, anyone?
Trump . . . a narcissistic billionaire who may wear a toupee will lift America to great new heights, even though he’s got zero political experience.
Government spying . . . the masses have forsaken liberty and embraced the false god of the iPhone, the Android, a million cameras in your face watching, recording, knowing. We’ve happily swallowed the Trust Us pill. Open up and take your medicine, you free-thinking patriots (ha-ha!). Who is Snowden anyway? I hear he’s a hero. I hear he’s a spy.
More personal fictions, closer to home?
I splattered a skunk corpse on my way to work this morning. Didn’t mean to, but Christ, the smell.
The Girl Who Got Away is stalking me after twenty years. Can’t even take a shower because it might smother the sound of her footsteps. Lips on my neck. The agony. The ecstasy.
Gotta get off this rock, to a place where fiction isn’t.
Zoom out fast, like in a movie, hurtle through the attic and the clouds and right into space. Earth, a blue-green marble in liquid black. Stars and Old Man Moon going zoom, zoom, zoom at millions of miles an hour. Galaxies collide. I can’t hear myself screaming in this vacuum.
I’m the only one in my silence and I’m too damn creepy for me.
So plummet back home, burning through ozone and clouds, toward a city, your city, toward a town, your town, hurtling at the ground about to splat and then . . . stop!
Hovering unseen in our astral selves above some lady sitting at an outdoor cafe and reading her tablet. Or maybe it’s a guy on a subway. Or that kid on his couch. Doesn’t matter, it’s the Every Person. All of us, plugged in. Wired.
They don’t see us, but we see them. We’re spying with satellite precision. The dark ages and the future united in one moment. Freeze it, and we’ve captured immortality.
Or have we?
Not important. The tablet is important. It says things, knows things. The human genome is being mapped. Chimp and human can form a humanzee. Sphinx. Mermaid. Tampering with the stuff of God makes us gods. Sucks to be the Earth, ’cause man are we flawed.
The tablet is both telescope and eye, lets us see far and yet it stares right back, tracking our every move. Mirror, mirror, on the wall . . . who’s the stalker of us all?
Oh, shit. It’s me. I mean us.
They scroll, so we scroll, and what do we see?
The joining of human and machine is going to happen by 2029. Google says it, so it must be true.
The universe is an ever-expanding sequence of vibrations. Nothing solid.
I’m a dad now. Got to consider mortality. The older generation is dying off. Everyone! Take a big step forward!
Before, I was climbing. Now I’m at the top and I can see the horizon, and my path, it winds away and I can’t see it all, but I can see enough to know the end of me. Or is it another door? Atheist or believer is the answer to the big Who Knows, I suppose.
Do you know the lucid dream? Take control and create universes in your sleep. Sounds far out. Let’s give it a whirl.
The acid in your stomach can dissolve razor blades.
The lifespan of a human hair is three to seven years.
Lobsters are immortal, unless some outside force kills them. Dinnertime!
Many small creatures experience time faster than we do, so we appear to move in slow motion.
There’s such a thing as underwater waterfalls.
Stories abound. You just have to know where to look, which is everywhere. Writer’s block? No way.
Fiction is life.