He waded through a sea of chickens.
This might've startled some people, but not him.
He didn't even notice them, at all.
He probably didnt even notice the telephone pole directly in front of him.
No, he certainly did not notice the pole, unless he likes running into things.
I can't think of any character in Shakespeare that likes running into things, can you?
That what he is, I think.
If you took every personality from Shakespeare and tossed it in a blender, the outcome would look like Geoffrey's consciousness.
or almost like it.
The original personality is in there too.
Thats me.
I'm mostly forced to the subconscious, and therefore only get to affect him while he sleeps, but I witness everything he does.
Oh bother, I'm so rude, I forgot to introduce myself.
I call myself Chris, because that is my birth-name.
I began going by Geoffrey Marlowe almost 40 years ago.
It was my stage name.
It was part Geoffrey Chaucer and part Christopher Marlowe.
Get it? I thought it was clever.
A friend of mine pointed out later that my first name was Christopher, which was Marlowe's first name as well, so I could've been clever while keeping my first name.
I said that'd be too easy.
I wish I had thought of that though.
I kinda like my name.
He's mumbling some more Shakespeare.
We're walking down the street, its not a pleasant day.
We bumped into someone,
I didnt see who,
stupid me, not paying attention.
Our view moved back up to look at the other being,
Good God thats alot of light.
it hurts our eyes.
"Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these wondrous feats?" He said.
Why'd he say that?
The person is most obviously a man, and tall and strong,
with wings.
That was odd,
the wings bit.
who has wings?
And why'd he call her a maid?
It was Reignier to Joan of arc if I remember right.
huh.
The man has a halo, I wonder if he's an angel.
I just missed whatever they were saying. drat.
stupid musings on the significance of my other personality's choice of words.
He's walking away.
And so are we.
curses.
Angels can cure the mad right? They're all chosen by God and stuff. I need to get to him, maybe he can fix me.
I don't like being broken.
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Altan stopped answering questions and ignored all comments and insults shouted his way. The only people he paid mind to were the gawkers; they were the only people showing no movement whatsoever in this mass of motion. They were almost completely immobile, and they stood out to Altan like neon signs. There was a girl with a frizzy, blond wig, a man who was overly dressed, and a girl who looked like she'd just escaped a fire. At this moment, they all embodied what Altan desired - stillness.
ReplyDeleteA man sidles up to me. He smells like dust and stale air. His clothes are rags. His hands rub together once before he claps me on the shoulder. Like my dad used to do when I was younger and had done something right. I almost expected the man to say "I'm proud of you, son," but instead, he said, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio."
ReplyDeleteThis guy gets it.
The rest of the day went slowly. The sun seemed to be soaking in its own warmth and taking its time to cross the sky. Altan didn't mind, except that the heat drove people away from hot drinks. He liked people-watching all the same; there was the man in fancy clothing he'd seen at the carnival a couple days before, shouting at chickens, bowing to women, and challenging men. Altan half-wanted the man to come his way, just to see what he would do if Altan offered him kahve. But the man only put his hand on another man's shoulder, said some words, and skipped away. Pity.
ReplyDelete