Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Pasha et Jardin - Revised

It was in a moment’s instance that all the chatter of their surroundings dissipated. A giant chasm suddenly ripped their table apart from the rest of the world; everyone else rapidly sank into the descending mud, while Pasha and Jardin rested solidly on a narrow pillar of ground. It seemed like the only sentient purpose of the booth they sat in was to protect the lonely intimacy of these lovers. In sadness he spoke. His whispers echoed through space like a prophecy come true on judgment day. Jardin felt an odd distance from his words, like as if they were not his. Like as if he were not capable of uttering such emotions.Pasha made no attempt to mitigate the sadness in Jardin’s voice. The greatest insult one could hurl at another in such a situation would be to descend into an elaborate pretense at empathy, and utter the greatest lie of all: everything will be okay. That is the surest sign of the fact that the person cares a damn about you. Jardin clutched the napkin in his hands, holding on to it like it would slip away. The plain, white napkin was marred with faint blotches of red sauce. He looked down at his food, thinking how strange it was that he was eating - feeding his body - to what end? “I cannot go on living this life that I find so disappointing. Shouldn’t I want to demand the best, and only that? How can I live and hate my life at the same time? Isn’t that a particularly repulsive kind of dishonesty?” “You can only demand that which you should deserve, Jardin. Demanding the best life is a demand that you make upon yourself. Fulfilling that demand is infact the process of living.” “But it’s not worth it” “Should your life be worth anything more than itself?”

5 Comments:

Blogger Ergo Sum said...

Hmmm... I hate writing dialogues.
I keep trying to think, how would I speak with someone in a situation... and I try to replicate that...
And strangely enough, how I speak is the way I have written it down for these characters... but, when written in words, it all reads so corny -- and pretentious!
Damn.

12/20/2005 11:12:00 AM  
Blogger Semperviva said...

haha what? it seems pretentious? i wonder why...

12/20/2005 01:16:00 PM  
Blogger Ergo Sum said...

I mean, it clearly does seem that way... though it can't be pretentious if that's infact how I speak... or say things. Hmmm... maybe I forget that I'm writing fiction -- and it's not supposed to be biographical... so I should assume a fictional "voice", not of my own.

12/20/2005 01:19:00 PM  
Blogger Rubicund Y. Logorrhea said...

100% pure fiction is a very very difficult thing to produce, and dialogue that isn't your head talking to yourself is the hardest part.

Poets have it easy; they always get to use their own voice.

12/21/2005 02:08:00 PM  
Blogger Ergo Sum said...

That's true. Clearly, if I'm incapable of writing fictional dialogue, why even bother anymore?
I'm so in love with myself, I can only hear my own voice... even in others!

I don't mind that, actually. ;)

12/22/2005 11:39:00 AM  

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