100 Words - The Character

Where does the character end? Which is you and which is the persona you show the world? Do you even know anymore? The invention of a self which is not our self. Part real, part fantasy, part necessity. The whole equals less than the sum of its parts. It lacks authenticity. Is that a problem? Is reality all that important after all? No one thinks a movie is real. Plays are staged. No one thinks the bad guy is really a bad guy out here in the real world. Maybe it's OK to be a character in a reality show.

100 Words - The Professor

German in the best language for punk rock. Latin the best for impressing douche bags. So what's the difference? The professor on the train knows. He reads Kakfa in Latin and looks up every third word in his Latin to German dictionary. I would think that finding Kafka in German would be as easy as finding Kafka in Latin would be difficult, but the professor soldiers on. He's as afraid of crowds as I am, but he is passive where I am active. He stands and waits, I go upstream to the empty train, but we always end up together.

100 Words - Forget It

Not far from here there is another place that looks nothing like this place. It's amazing how often that happens. Sorry, I'm trying too hard to be clever. I've worn out my organic thoughts so I'm trying to invent an engaging world out of thin air. It's not working. Now I've fallen into the trap of writing about not being able to write. This crap is so trite they could publish it in The New Yorker. Oh God, such shame. Promise me you won't tell anyone I wrote this. Just move on, nothing to see here. Forgive me. Forget it.

100 Words - What Robots Know

The robots are out there. They're gathering their info. Someday soon they will know all they need to know. Not everything. Everything is infinity. At some point, unknown to us in here, but no doubt programmed into the robots, the circuits will click and the gathering will be finished. I can only assume that then the hunting will begin. They will find their way in here. We'll be trapped. There will be no escape as the soulless robots relentlessly tell us everything they have learned. Like an uncle's eternal taxidermy slide show. The weaker among us whisper prayers for death.

100 words - Give me your sadness

She cried till the ice cream melted then handed me a cup of her tears. I drank them. They were salty on my tongue. Thicker than water but thinner than blood. They seemed to congeal in my throat then spun down my esophagus as a single entity. The total of her sadness was in me. It invaded my stomach and flowed trough every wall, through every vein till it infected my entire body. I was a being of sadness. Her sadness. She smiled at me and touched my cheek. I fainted. I woke alone on the floor, my destiny fulfilled.