Wednesday, July 9, 2008

One More Day Before It All Came Tumbling Down In Arkansas

My head was spinning after the talk with Kevin and Jason. I headed for the local Coffee Bean. If Nicole Kidman is to be believed, the local Coffee Bean is the place to be if you want to talk about problems that do not have any solutions. Problem was, I had no money to buy anything. So I took one of them paper cups, filled it with warm milk and sugar, took a seat at the corner and pretended to be reading a magazine. As luck would have it, a very tall blonde girl walked over and we started chatting. I realized that she wasn't really so tall after all. She's about my height. The only reason she looked so tall was because she was wearing 10-inch padded shoes. I noticed the pads were made from brown crocodile skins - probably the same type as her handbag. Her name was Ilsa.

Ilsa: None of this is real.

Me: What do you mean?

Ilsa: You don't fool me. We're all just figments of your imagination.

Me: If you were all merely figments of my imagination, don't you think I'll know it?

Ilsa: That's the problem. You don't! There you are, still sitting in that same chair that you did weeks ago when you began this silly fantasy about being lost in Arkansas.

Me: No, I'm not! I'm sitting here drinking this cup of warm milk and talking to you.

Ilsa: But that's the point. You're only imagining that you're talking to me. Just like you were imagining that you were screwing this gothic girl called Dalia, discussing pagan religion with this fictional guy called Kevin and receiving all sorts of weird notes from another fictional guy called Mike. You did all this in order to set up all sorts of misdirections for your readers - particularly some silly fake pltypuses with a voyeuristic tendency.

Me: No, no, NO! That cannot be. Are you telling me that the experiences of the past several weeks were all an illusion? That nothing was real?

Ilsa: Nothing IS real anyway. What's the difference?

Me: But what about that mysterious letter, the stack of photocopied magazine articles and the photograph? See, I have them in my coat pocket here...

[I reached into my coat pocket but I found nothing there. I could've sworn that they were in there. Did Kevin and Jason take them from me?]

Ilsa: You never had any of those things. And, if you're wondering, no - Kevin and Jason did not steal them from you. Besides, they never existed in the first place. They, like me, are all figments of your imagination.

Me: No. I get it now. You are another of those agents sent by THEM to confuse me. There are two parties involved now. One party obviously want me to know what I know so they sent me all sorts of clues. The other party is obviously trying to misguide me with all sorts of crazy smokescreens. You and all those suckers from SIN are in the same league. Liars lying to each other in order to keep us all in the dark. In order to maintain the status quo.

Ilsa: It looks like your mental condition is worse than we thought. You are in need of treatment.

Me: No. What I need is to get out of this stupid place and go home.

I got up from my seat, knocked down the cup of warm milk and dashed out of the place. I can't remember how I got back to Dalia's apartment but I know I did. Dalia was awake. She saw me, walked across the room and put her arms around me. I cried. What is going on with my life?