stupid prose..maybe plot for movie
There is that darkness, that front door you just cant see beyond. Its where most of the world hides and pretends that the day doesn’t even exist – fluke of reality to ensure that humans don’t ask the wrong questions. I find myself sitting at the edge and peering into the bottoms of glasses, partially filled with whiskey – cigarette butt – the last bit of memory from the night before. You could have saved something from the evening but you left it at the bar along with your credit card. I was born William Gabriel Loft and had parents, I had the idea of parents, the cloud of smoke that resembles the past. I’m twenty five and sit at my computer and write about the darkness that society doesn’t acknowledge and that has been erased from collective memory.
I have disabilities that I incurred as a child, foster homes, kids who thought I appeared funny, maybe they hated the cloud that surrounded me. Most days my voice doesn’t register beyond an audible mumble and scratches the pavement same as my feet. I hulk a large frame into whatever bar is open and drink until my money is no longer good there. Friends are matches that burn for a moment, extinguish and are never remembered, swept up for minimum wage and a shot.
The world is divided into people who either accept or reject the reality they are given. This reality is sometimes perceived as fate – fate does not exist – God left us to our own devices after we decided we had outgrown the divine presence and the idea of an ethereal parent. Evil did not take this opportunity to engulf the Earth as one would logically assume, rather the elements that were there from the abyss before time merely broke the rules and became a reality. Life has not changed. Technology is God 2.0 and media rules the masses – we are conditioned to believe the world we see – the world we hear.
In an effort to restore the faith in those who had been lost from the flock, the Catholic church found hope. The spiritual wasteland that Earth has become was the perfect setting for a hero. For someone who rose up aginst the forces of the darkness and of beyond the light. A mortal – a human – the preferred among all God’s creation – one would be the savior of humanity on Earth while their places were reserved in the, now empty, kingdom of Heaven.
I’m a sonambulist. I walk the dreamscape of American life that most people refuse to hold on to, the reality that says they should carry a gun. I do. I carry several guns and several illegal drugs on my person at any given time. My mother worries, she says that im depressed and that im strung out, dying is often the most liberating part of life. I died when I was thirteen. Pronounced legally dead. I was reborn as Gabriel, the pseudonym of William Loft was dead. Born into the cloth and trained to fear and serve God, for he would return one day.
Now here we are 2006 and my night is eternal, my birth certificate was printed with an expiration date. I died and was reborn Gabriel. The messenger. The prophet. The righteous hand of God without the seventh day slumber. Now imagine Humphrey Bogart from The Maltese Falcon and take away the quips and you have me: un romanticized and beaten. Just remember – this is all a bad dream and when you wake the world will be whole again. Hold on tight – what im about to show you may sever your reality.