Cannot locate signal

I went look­ing for the cracked, faded and dis­tant voice that I knew lurked some­where in the jagged land­scape, hid­den unheard between dis­tor­ted peaks and hushed val­leys. I held the sleek, elec­tronic sea­shell to my ear, and behind the tem­pes­tu­ous waves I could hear the faint prom­ise of a silent sea of sound, stretch­ing as far as I could ever care to fall.

Too sud­denly though, I was pulled from the briny deep before I had found my water wings. Tossed onto the rocks, I held the ocean’s bru­tally terse rejec­tion mes­sage in my hands. No signal.

Trapped in noth­ing more than passing breaths and fleet­ing vague­ness, with little more than a cot­ton wool head of winter cold and wist­ful recol­lec­tions to my name, I decided that the only option open to me was to sur­render to each and every brief moment as it happened, no mat­ter how non­sensical it seemed at first glance (or second blow to the right side of the head). I wrote down almost any­thing I saw or heard that grabbed my lack of atten­tion — except the all too obvi­ous — simply to fill my fal­low mind with dis­join­ted somethings and hope­fully car­pet the bar­ren land­scape with mean­ing­less curves and corners.

My fin­gers tapped out a fren­zied rhythm, single­han­dedly attempt­ing to keep up with the elec­tronic voice burbling its obser­va­tions, obstruc­tions and instruc­tions into my ran­domly accessed memory. My pro­cessor, how­ever, refused to cooper­ate. My solid state stor­age lay frag­men­ted and cor­rupt. Burnt out. Error. Can­not con­nect. No signal.

Comments: 10

    right now, I know what you mean.

    isabelle | 01.08.08, 23:19

    left at the firt North­ern star then straight on until morning.

    miles away | 01.09.08, 00:05

    Have you tried turn­ing it off and on again?

    Jack | 01.09.08, 10:29

    Ask the rotund Gull to move over a bit.

    NAGA | 01.10.08, 00:22

    Isa­belle — Some­times people do know what I mean, yes.

    Miles Away — I always look for the stars, but in this city often all that I get in return is orange street­light glow.

    Jack — More than that, I even tried read­ing the instruc­tion manual. It made me shudder.

    NAGA — It gets crowded on this cliff edge, doesn’t it?

    An Unreliable Witness | 01.10.08, 09:14

    The sea is frozen solid. The axe needs sharpen­ing. The one who wields it needs time and rest. His eye­lids (ha) droop as the need to sleep intensifies.

    Dawn will break, though, and a warm sun will help melt the ice. And it will all work out, some­how, in the end.

    [Sorry. I had to write this pos­it­ive err, sen­ti­ment from the heart because Jack stole my piss-taking line.]

    Ani | 01.10.08, 11:27

    Your sig­nal has come through loud and clear. Either I am receiv­ing or you have been catch­ing my trans­mis­sions. Maybe it’s just the same wavelength, crash­ing onto dif­fer­ent shores.

    2ndhandsoul | 01.10.08, 20:35

    I’m swoon­ing.

    clarissa | 01.12.08, 12:37

    Beau­ti­ful! I think you were listen­ing too hard. Mes­sage received and understood.

    bipolarworks | 01.13.08, 17:46

    Ani — I am sharpen­ing my axe right now. It is very blunt. [Stop­pit, Jack. Don’t say any­thing.]

    2ndhandsoul — Then again, it could just be the smooth sounds of Terry Wogan on BBC Radio 2. Possibly.

    Clarissa — Thank you. Do you require the smelling salts?

    Bipolar­works — I always listen too hard. That is my curse. Or my tal­ent. I can’t decide.

    An Unreliable Witness | 01.15.08, 00:23

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