Sunday, July 24, 2016

Seven And Se7en

"I thought you were NEO! It's not adding up!"

"I gave you those sweet white rabbit sweets, where you can eat the wrapping paper."

"Well, I have a new boyfriend, now, and I don't need your sweets anymore. Can you leave me a lone?"

"Twenty-six fifty?"


"That'll cover it."

And that's how I decided I would join the police department of New York City. They figured I would end up dead in some kind of penitentiary or something. After having shot someone point blank in the head for making an arrangement with UPS.

"Why aren't there any true detectives around?" asks a woman who has misplaced her child at the pretzel vendor.

I give her a pretzel and suddenly she walks away, happily. Like my detective coat means nothing. I *was* the pretzel guy. Her child looks up at me, concerned about the receding apparition of her mom.

"I think she's teasing you," I tell the baby, and pick her up. We walk fast across tourists, and return the child to the mother. Nothing special. Matter of fact. Expected. Mothers don't lose children in Times Square. It doesn't happen.


I watch them walk into the stars, together.

.

My coat shatters. I feel that I am not a true detective.

An Anime Idea, Part 10

As they walked into the blue darkness, where streetlights would light up everytime they came near. They had been discussing about their families, and the different sources of their powers.

"That woman over there," nodded Kurimusoda, towards a woman wearing a very short skirt and pulsing under one of these ethereal lights. "Don't you think we should try to help her?"

"I am here. You are *holding my hand*!" said Arata. "Avert your eyes!"

"I just mean that I can feel her pain," said Kuri. "Why should a prostitute not be given attention to?"

.

As she led him into the city center, the tarmac was turning into sand and mud, and he could feel her leading him into it. He felt that her hand was getting more wriggely. Like she may be having serious doubts hold his hand anymore. They were walking into a thick jungle, together.

"You're driving me insane," said Kuri to Arata. "I don't know how long I will be able to resist not simply holding your hand, at this entrance to the Shrine."

Arata poked him in the ribs and scolded his ankles. "Do you see the trail lines furrowed to such fine precision, for the hermit crabs?" she said to him.

The moon was pretty round tonight.

"Yes, I do," said Kuri. She was wearing such great shoes, he had to have her there, under the moon.

"This is your friend, Akira's house," said Arata, and suddenly she was riding a beast motorcycle too, and she rode it into the air.

The waves started to come into Kuri's ears, so he collapsed in the sand next to the hermit crab, and pulled out a cigarette. He had not been prepared about sea-shore ornaments manifesting themselves in a lush tropical jungle.

Anyway. Like he was ever going to drive a motorcycle that was that cool.

Saturday, July 9, 2016

An Anime Idea, Parts 8 & 9

Part 8

"I don't know if you're ready, yet, y'know, Kuri?" said Arata, stroking the young man's head that appeared entirely dazed upon her lap. She was wearing her favorite skirt, a floral pattern she had seen in the night markets that intimated at her about space--as in 'space, and the universe out there'.

"Whaddya mean not ready yet?" asked Kuri, some of his eyes rolling aft, others very stern.

She laughed. "You don't even know anything about sailing, or ships, right now, do you?

No, what I mean is that you seem like a man who is sometimes very rich and textured, and fruitful with his intent and direction. Other times you are like a canoe. Wish-washy."

His head sank lower into her lap.

"I think you just need a little more soda." She poured a bottle of Pepsi over his face.

Pepsi-face sat up suddenly, and moved an inch from her.

They both sat in the dimness afforded by the poor bulb, with their heads between their knees. She, orange and reddish hints surrounding her form, and he with blue soda dripping down off his face.

.

"I-I have always known where the pain comes from," said Kuri. "It's when someone from my family is hurting. Then I know who and what it is, and how to stop it."

She nodded. "That's what happens to me too. But lately, even though we have transitioned into the summer," she said, and a firefly sat upon her shoulder, "and everyone I care about is healthy, fit and fine, I have been undergoing these shrouds of sadness and fear."

He tested whether he could lean against her, and she allowed him to. Their heads drew close.

"You smell like soda made of coca cola," she giggled at him.

"You're like a very tangy marmalade," he ventured with his lips.

Suddenly someone drove a very futuristic looking motorcycle into Arata's apartment, and skidded right against their face.

"Save the romance for a time when you have enough alcohol!" screamed the rider. "My name is Akira, and my mother is dying you slackers!"


Part 9

"I'm sorry that you feel putting a vinyl along the side of your moped that reads 'fU turistik' makes you feel that your vehicle is very futuristic, and allowed to crash through a wall into the apartment of a citizen," said Kuri. "And that you are offending the tourism industry of Chile with it."

Arata got up and went to her fridge. She came back with a bottle of whiskey for Kuri, and one for herself too.

"Come on guys, aren't you even excited to learn about how I know you feel other peoples' pain? And that I may have a idea as to why Dr. Chesterfield knows you experience it? And how you aren't imagining everything?" said Akira.

The couple murmured between sips and kisses of whiskey. "MMmmm...mmm..tongue tongue...lemme...tongue...guess...i twist here, you twist...your...slushie lip, dripping stubble...mom...is somehow...your hair feels amazing in my fingers...to blame?"

"You have let me down," said Akira, and he drove home a little less excitedly than he had entered. Somewhere in the all the noise, they heard his scooter slowly putt-putt-putt away into the city.

Eight minutes later they both dressed into their respective clothes.

The light in her apartment went out, and in the darkness he said, "It was, erm..."

"Painful?" she finished for him.

He nodded sheepishly. "I wish it would have been, you know--without the thought of Akira's mom on her deathbed. I mean. Not even just the thought of her. Her actual dying feelings. I lost my grandfather this way, too, you know?"

"I'm not interested about how your cherry popped, Kuri," said Arata.

"What I mean is, that is how I found out about my unusual condition. I was left in a coma for almost a month." The bulb flickered for a second, and her saw her face. "How did you realize who you are?"

"There's a hole in my apartment wall," said Arata in the darkness. "I guess we don't have any other option."

Kuri shook himself from his gloom. "I guess we've both found out why we're feeling all this pain. Somehow we've evolved, and my trait has gone beyond just my family."

He heard her walk, and then saw her bloom under the pale blue afforded by their city's street lights. She went dark, then bloomed again. For a second, that floral pattern of the universe appeared. Then went away. Dark. Then bloomed again.

He ran after her, until he reached her side. Then he held her hand, and they walked in the direction of Akira's home together.

Friday, July 8, 2016

An Anime Idea (Parts 6 & 7)

Part 1 is here

Part 6

Arata had fallen asleep before Kuri could even move again. She seemed conveniently poised, her back against a thin archway leading into her kitchen area, the dim light of living room hinting at her. Kuri began to move towards her, realizing that as he moved, he was leaving behind a trail of actual cream soda that led back to his original position. This was surprising. He had not realized that he bled cream soda.

Sugary and fizzy as it seemed, he crept on, toward Arata's body.

When he reached her, he was almost dead. He laid his head on her lap and asked, "Please can you rejuvenate me, Arata? I promise I won't take this type of advantage again. I only want to discuss our collective malady." Then he died upon her lap.


Part 7

"Do you mean why we both feel inexplicable pain?"

"Yes!"

"Why I've lost most of my friends, and why nobody believes me when I say to them, sometimes, that I cannot be there for them?"

"That is the worst!" said Kuri. "You say that to your friends?" he added, opening one eyelid.

"So you agree, there is no gender bias. It's not women who become depressive, or men who become physically weak, through this ailment?"

Kuri thought about that. "Well, typically women are accused of being weak at everything, so while I agree that there is no gender bias posited toward me, I will say that, I am a man. And what I experience is sort of a phenomena. And an unbalanced phenomena at that."

Arata was amused. "You're a phenomena, huh?"

"We may both be. I wrote this in my diary," said Kuri, before his head finally collapsed into her lap.

She took the diary from the fevered boy. It started: "Please read Part 1 of my diary, before you meet me in the battlefield. Perhaps then, we can both fathom as to the extent of our pain, and understand it together."

An Anime Idea (Parts 6 & 7)

Part 1 is here

Part 6

Arata had fallen asleep before Kuri could even move again. She seemed conveniently poised, her back against a thin archway leading into her kitchen area, the dim light of living room hinting at her. Kuri began to move towards her, realizing that as he moved, he was leaving behind a trail of actual cream soda that led back to his original position. This was surprising. He had not realized that he bled cream soda.

Sugary and fizzy as it seemed, he crept on, toward Arata's body.

When he reached her, he was almost dead. He laid his head on her lap and asked, "Please can you rejuvenate me, Arata? I promise I won't take this type of advantage again. I only want to discuss our collective malady." Then he died upon her lap.


Part 7

"Do you mean why we both feel inexplicable pain?"

"Yes!"

"Why I've lost most of my friends, and why nobody believes me when I say to them, sometimes, that I cannot be there for them?"

"That is the worst!" said Kuri. "You say that to your friends?" he added, opening one eyelid.

"So you agree, there is no gender bias. It's not women who become depressive, or men who become physically weak, through this ailment?"

Kuri thought about that. "Well, typically women are accused of being weak at everything, so while I agree that there is no gender bias posited toward me, I will say that, I am a man. And what I experience is sort of a phenomena. And an unbalanced phenomena at that."

Arata was amused. "You're a phenomena, huh?"

"We may both be. I wrote this in my diary," said Kuri, before his head finally collapsed into her lap.

She took the diary from the fevered boy. It started: "Please read Part 1 of my diary, before you meet me in the battlefield. Perhaps then, we can both fathom as to the extent of our pain, and understand it together."

Saturday, July 2, 2016

An Anime Idea (Part 5)

"Also, don't call me senpai. That is a term reserved only for someone older than oneself," said Arata, dressing the wounds Kuri had suffered from being thrown off the balcony.

"I was in a different state of mind when I said it," said Kuri, accepting her swaths of alcohol upon his open wounds.

She laughed as she finished dressing him up. "Did you really imagine this was some kind of fiction, and some guy was out there, in the open universe, writing about your predicament?" One of tips of the bandages was showing, so she got up, navigated to her dresser, and came back with an implement. She snipped off the offensive tip with the implement. "There. Now you look like, erm, what is your name again?"

Kuri was suddenly healed, and he sat up. His eyes were clear, and they looked into her no longer for her shoes, or dress, or her bodily sexiness, or even as the ample bosom who had just healed him, but as an equal, and a confidant.

"My name, shidoshi," said Kuri, "is Akahoshi Kurimusoda, or Kuri, for short. I have an unusual secret that I am now compelled to disclose."

"Shidoshi, huh?" Arata had walked away and was looking in what seemed to be her many closets and cupboards. "Yes, yes, we've heard that, but why don't we forego your secret for the meantime and discuss why you are named after a brand of soft drink?"

Kuri was aghast. "A-A-re you making fun of my name? At this holy moment?"

The being known as Arata began to break down at this point. She had been standing very tall and mighty, but now she was on the floor. Kuri had seen this kind of special effect before. A woman, completely in her own regard, and poise, lying on the floor and laughing uncontrollably. The way she moved seemed unseemly, almost horrific, but there was an immense sweetness to it.

"Are you sure? You want to know why my name is my name? This is going to increase the amount of time we have to get to our mutual resolution."

Arata, between her giggles, laughs, and outright bellows, managed, "W-what resolution--" seizures, by now, "what type of resolution(s) are you hoping for? Please? Please. Tell me about your name. I'm almost actually going to say L-O-L."

As has been intimated earlier, Kuri's most essential aspect is that he prefers to operate in states of absolute clarity. "I didn't mean to break into your apartment. It is just that, previously, no matter how hard I tried to reach you about a very deep question that I have, related to my suffering, I was met with general 'fuck you's. So I went drastic."

Arata finally sat up again. "Your suffering, huh? Well, I'm glad you didn't turn out to be a Hitler-type, at least. Alright then." She rose to the sink to clean her hands from his blood. The antiseptic was warm on her palms, and she tried to imagine what it might feel like to feel like her, except with physical ailment rather than mental ailment. "So tell me about your name, Kurimusoda-san."

An Anime Idea (Part 4)

" went to the Doctor," finished Kurimusoda, sitting in her apartment, drinking alcohol, layers of slime dripping from his reclined position.

"This is fucked," said Arata, immediately approaching the body, kicking it, and sending it toppling over the balcony of her nice apartment. "You're assuming a little too much!"

"Wait," screamed Kuri. "I've been waiting! I've been waiting for you! We're the SAME!"

"Are we?"

"This guy is even writing an anime idea about me. Us. We're the same."

She pulled him back over the balcony and then the sky became black, thunder occurred followed by casual lightning. Amidst the sparks she asked him why she was feeling like she was going fucking insane, even though she knew for a fact that everybody in her family was not experiencing any type of harsh mental  malady.

"Senpai," said Akahoshi Kurimusoda. "I may be the answer to our mis-engagement!"

"That doesn't give you a right to appear just lounging drunk in my personal space!" she screamed back at him.

An Anime Idea (Part 3)

Arata had started to feel a little bit like some small boy had suddenly taken control over her whole life. All of a sudden, where normally she would be calm, concerted, and inevitably sophisticated, suddenly it was like this guy was running up to her, claiming she was his answer to everything.

 "My name is cream soda, cream soda! I'm just like you!"

She seriously doubted that she was in any way, under any circumstances, just like this man. "I don't think that you should be communicating with that equipment any more," she indicated at the world in general, hoping this Kurimosoda would just piss off.

 When you bear the horror of slow, degenerative brain disease for your beloved family member, you don't exactly waste time focusing on popular brands. You don't exactly have time to meander into magical fantasy, or the wrong area of the button on the mouse.

 There is only one button, you click that, and that's your outcome.

 That's why you