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[desertd]

This is the sound

This is the sound they make when they sing, or dance, or talk. This is the way they find you and come to know who you are. Have you seen their eyes before? The biggest stare imaginable. Have you seen it? Is it you? Do you sing when you think?

The world was ablaze the day he fell. Everyone heard the impact when he hit the ground -and they mourned together. A savior had been lost. I would like to write that his sacrifice changed the world, but every day without him seems lonelier than the last.

They named a national holiday in his honor. A destination for those who believed in his undying love of humanity.

Always there were talks of his stories. Always he saved the day and gave people a reason to be kind to each other.

In his name, spirituality became important again. Many wanted to hear his stories told in the name of God and were eager to give thanks that such a hero could have lived among us. At the heart of all the other madness, there was no doubt that our shared love for Superman was good and beautiful.

I was currently on the hunt for personal anecdotes of people who had met Superman. Currently I was at the library of a fairly college in the area going through their newspaper archives.

After having a librarian teach me to use the software, I had already found a list of autobiographies that contained the pattern: ‘my encounter with Superman’, and was digging in my bag for more change to pay for the prints I would need.

“Hi miss, are you doing an essay on him for school?”

“hmm?” I said, turning to look at the person who was now standing next to me and looking at my screen. He was a bit handsome, but nosy, I thought smiling.

“He was the best wasn’t he? Saved my brother from a car chase once.”

“oh wow, that’s amazing.” I said turning to look back at the screen.

“Well, if you don’t mind, what day was it?” I asked, turning to face him a little more. He smiled.

He turned around and grabbed the chair from the computer next to us.

“Yeah, of course.” He set his bag down on the floor between his feet and dragged the chair very closer to mine. Yeah, there was chemistry right away.

I turned and smiled looking at the screen to find the search bar. “What was it?” I said, ready to type.

“March 3rd 2015.” He said. I typed and hit enter and then decided to quickly move my own chair further to the right to make more space between us.

The screen flashed and the results showed two results, the first that was definitely about his brother, and the second an article that looked like a calendar of superman sightings, it was a small blurb written like a list of baseball bets, something I would definitely circle back to later.

I glanced back at the guy and he looked right at me. He smiled and I realized I knew nothing about him.

"So…I’m Alice.” I said nodding at him. He seemed to be younger than me, easily an extroverted type of person.

“Ethan, hi." He smiling and he looked back at my screen.

I clicked opened the article about his brother and we read it in silence.

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Ethan was laughing by the end of it. I smiled at him, he must have thought his uncle was still wild.

“Yeah, Uncle Toby never lived that down.” I laughed and changed the screen back to the results page. I was curious about the other clipping.

“That’s really cool your brother was safe.”

“yeah, he’s a really upstanding guy now, he’s in the military and everything.” Ethan looked down at his phone, possibly checking the time. He then looked up at me and smiled again and asked, “so what are you trying to find about him?”

“oh, well it’s for work actually.” I said, tapping my pen on the pad I had in front of me. The article I wanted to write was not meant to be a homage to Superman, but rather a snapshot of how he impacted people before he died.

“Oh, do you work on campus?” Ethan said.

"Not exactly..."

“You’re not?” He thought for a second. “Well, Alice, neither am I actually.” He sat back in his seat and gave me a little smile.

“You’re not?” I said hesitantly.

“No, and” he said standing up, "I actually do have to get going."

Grabbing his bag, he threw it over his shoulder and then reached out his hand. “Do you wanna come see something cool?”

As a wannabe reporter my senses were tingling. Since his story was actually about Superman, this might lead to something good.

“yeah, sure. As long as we get some food first.”

“Deal.” he said with a big grin. I packed up my stuff and pushed my chair back under the desk.

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Pin Up from The Death of Superman 30th Anniversary Special 1 (2022) by Lee Weeks

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jonah might say

jonah: sitting.

me: oh wow, jonah hill -whispered

jonah: looks.

me: listen, can i distract you for a second?

jonah: looks another direction.

me: ok, thank you. thank you. -sits.

me: ok, so i'm a huge fan, but like, a good fan ya know? one thing i've always wanted to ask, i mean i know you are probably at a point where job offers are presented to you, small gigs, music videos, i don't know, auditions. but like, how hard would it be for you to do more indie stuff? like maniac. that's such a beautiful like...limited series! -lol

jonah: says something cool

me: it's such a cool, beautiful piece of work. and like i think it's amazing that you can like have such a classic, american look. i think, a look that makes people forget about how actually awkward human interactions are. it's such a cool, thing.

jonah: hopefully doesn't call security on me.

me: like, i'm not saying that about your literal face, i mean yeah obviously you're meant to be looked at, but more like how you make people believe that there exist situations that are not full of nerves, awkwardness, tension, just...not the feeling that you're in danger or whatever, just reality right?

jonah: hopefully converses?

me: ya know i dye my hair because when i walk into a room i feel like everybody looks at me.

jonah: probably feeling weird about me again

me: i mean like, not that i'm hot or attractive or anything, but more like, it's a fact that people look when someone enters a room right? so for that quarter of a second of a look that i get, that's why i dye my hair. isn't that weird? but like...i will be looked at and i know the experience i want others to have when they're doing that. and that's like, your whole job. like you create a space where the characters live, so like a personality of the environment really. so many lives that you've played.

jonah: hopefully fully distracted at this point and not worried about whatever rich actors worry about.

me: anyway, i really love film, and i cant remember the names of all of it, like that movie scarlett johanson made like 2 years ago that was really indie. she would lure men and like kill em but that was her whole purpose, did you see it ? she looked like a whole different person too. oh and leonardo dicaprio in don't look up. i just couldn't believe how much of a different person he played. ya kinda forget how good acting can be sometimes. is there a special formula for how you decided to make it your craft? i mean, it took me so long to figure out which medium i liked the most and i realize it's sculpture. it's like the coolest thing to just create things. i haven't finished a project yet but hopefuly it will start looking good.

jonah: idk something about himself? hopefully?

me: so yeah, sorry if that was too distracting, i thought maybe you'd want to get a new type of fan convo, but really it's been awesome. truly a great once in a lifetime thing. please take excellent care of yourself!

so yeah. these are the kinds of conversations i have with myself. with fucking blank personalities. just faces really. very specific looks. actors are easier because their face is everywhere and very easily seen in motion.

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mind-reading

we have tech that transfers thought from someones brain to another person's brain. this knowledge can be transferred to someone thousands of miles away, possibly even after someone dies.

first you take the thought from your brain.

next, convert it into code and put that code on an object. now you can give that object to someone else who already knows the code. they read it, and walla! the transfer has been complete.

you are now a mind-reader.

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taylor writes

She was a girl that loved the written word. Lyrics, meant so much more when they were isolated on the page, away from the music that gave it life. Writing was her best subject, and her favorite way of dealing with her problems. Taylor was the girl that could teach you how to write an essay the day before it was due. She was a steady girl, finished her homework before dinner time type of girl. She liked to spend her afternoons at a library or under a shady tree with her laptop, ready to carve away the day into her blog. 

Taylor’s first time realizing she really liked to write was back in middle school. Their English teacher was teaching them how to write persuasive essays and Taylor had chosen to write about why uniforms should not be required in school. Taylor had used bullet points to write down her best arguments, and she was able to envision how the paper was coming together as if she had unlocked a treasure map. Her convictions for arguing why uniforms were a bad idea in school grew stronger and stronger as more supporting points flowed out of her head onto the paper. She had been so wrapped up in her essay that she didn’t hear the teacher saying they were only doing the outline in class and would leave the actual essay for homework that week. Needless to say, when Taylor took her paper up to show her work the teacher was surprised that she had been able to write so much while her classmates were still trying to come up with their topic sentences. 

“Taylor, this is great! You even summarized your points in the conclusion to re-state your case for the reader!” Ms Whitman said. 

“Yes, I tried to write everything differently than in my intro paragraph, see-”

“Yes, yes Taylor that is exactly what you should have done. Wow. I guess you’ve finished with your homework for the week!”

A few students looked up at these words and Taylor blushed. “Well, I didn’t mean to--”

“No no it’s great! You can help your classmates now with their work or you can sit quietly an read until lunch time!” Ms. Whitman said, and with one last slight nod Taylor walked back to her seat. “Okay thank you.” she said.

She hadn’t meant to show off how fast she had finished. In fact, she had been hoping for Ms. Whitman to challenge some of her points or to say that her introduction needed more content, or even some feedback on how to make the conclusion better. She was a little disappointed. Taylor tried not to make eye contact on the way to her seat, she stopped by the book shelf and grabbed a book to busy herself with for the remaining class time. 

“Wow, too bad she kept your essay, we could have all been done today!” said Francisco, Taylor’s table-mate who was talking to the other boys around them. 

“Yeah, definitely, sorry.” Taylor said, sitting down and blushing again. She opened the book and tried to make herself as small as possible. She promised herself never to turn in her work early again. She didn’t want to feel singled out ever again. 

She opened the book to the first page, letting her eyes glaze over the words as she began to think about how she had finished her first essay ever. She thought about how the arguments for getting rid of uniforms in schools were something she thought about everyday when she put her uniform on and walked to school. She had felt like uniforms didn’t stop anyone from getting bullied, and how stressed out her mom had been having to save money to buy her clothes this year. She had known these points all along, she had lived these points. 

She thought about other topics that she could write about to persuade others into agreeing with her. She could write about how school should start after 8 am because it would help a lot of people get more sleep. She could write about how winter was better than summer because it was easier to get warmer than it is to get cooler. Then she started thinking about how any topic could be a persuasive essay and she wondered what other types of essays there were out there. Taylor decided that she would go to the library after school and do some research. 

Ms. Whitman had mentioned that they would all need to know how to write essays in order to do their schoolwork from then on, and there were even times when they would need to write an essay to get accepted into programs, scholarships, colleges, and even for legal reasons in a courtroom. Taylor wondered if that was true. She had never seen her own mother write an essay before, but she thought maybe adults were so good at writing essays they were able to finish them before anyone else had the chance of seeing them. She would ask her mother later when she picked her up from the library. 

The bell rang for lunch. Taylor gathered up her things quickly, and headed to the lunch room. She felt strange, thinking that her friends would most likely not want to hear about how fast she wrote an essay today. She wondered if there were other students who did talk to each other about their schoolwork. Taylor looked around the cafeteria. There were no students who had books out or notebooks or anything from their backpacks. They all were just laughing and talking and eating together. Taylor felt her hunger disappearing. She began to feel nauseous, thinking that she had nobody to share her newfound skills with. She was a good writer, she had felt exhilarated almost, when she was finishing her last paragraph, but now all she wanted to do was go home. 

Taylor grabbed a lunch tray and loaded it up with some peas, bread, and a juice. As she turned around to face the cafeteria, she spotted her friends sitting together, smiling and waving her over. Taylor smiled. She was relieved that they had seen her first because she was still feeling a little dizzy from all the movement around her. 

“Hey Taylor, what’s up?” Maggie said to her, sliding over to make room for her. 

“Hey guys,” Taylor said, setting her bag down between her feet. 

“nothing much, Maggie says she wants to try the new tiktok challenge after school today, are you game?” Chelsea said, giving Taylor a meaningful look.

Taylor smiled, “what’s the new challenge about?”

“Oh Taylor, I forgot you’re not allowed to have a tiktok. Well, you can hold the camera just so your mom doesn’t find out.” Maggie said, giving Taylor a small smirk. 

“Yeah I could, but I was go-” Taylor started, but was interrupted by Chelsea. 

“Going where? to the library? again?” Chelsea rolled her eyes. Taylor was embarrassed. Maggie giggled. 

“Oh, well yes” Taylor said shyly. She smiled and picked up her roll to take a bit, not noticing the looks Maggie and Chelsea were exchanging. Taylor had felt that her friends would never give her trouble for wanting to go to the library so often, she was happy to see that they had fun together, but Taylor didn’t want to be on the internet. She didn’t want to be seen, and yes, perhaps it was her mother’s fault initially for not letting her have any social media presence until middle school. But, Taylor had known all about VPN’s and how to delete her search history. Still, she had kept off the book of faces and every other platform because she just didn’t know what people wanted to see from her. She felt she had nothing to give to people on social media -that there was nothing more entertaining about her than the people who were already doing it for a living.

“Told you so Maggie” Chelsea said giggling as well. “Taylor’s a book worm through and through.”

Maggie gave her a half smile while she ate some more of her food. “Well, we will definitely tag you so one day you can look back and remember us being young together!” Chelsea laughed at Maggie’s statement.  

“Yeah,Taylor, you have to make some sort of memories now girl! You won’t be twelve forever!” Chelsea said smiling at Taylor.

“Well, alright, maybe I’ll drop by after the library. I just really have to-”

“Yeah yeah, we know.” Maggie said, waving Taylor’s statement off. Taylor smiled, thinking again to herself how nice Maggie and Chelsea reacted to being blown off almost every day. Maybe she should socialize more, but Taylor felt today she had a very good reason to learn more about writing. She had never felt so thrilled by learning something so fast before. She had to practice more essays and read about what they were really about. 

The three girls chatted away about funny videos they had each watched the night before, things they wanted to do that weekend, and which boys they were crushing on currently. Taylor felt grateful for her friends. She knew they could have given up on trying to include her a long time ago. Taylor almost rarely went over to their houses after school. She felt nervous to be inside someone else’s home. She had never really been allowed to have friends over because the house was never “presentable” as her mom put it. But she was also told that sometimes you had to give people an opportunity to say no to you nicely, and not to push her presence onto anyone without knowing for sure they wanted her to come along. And somehow, she felt her friends had more fun without her anyway. 

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the witches decided to create this paradise, for more houses and people to live closer. this could be the aftermath of the book, or possible the timeline of the book.

i wrote the discovery of the house. 

other scenes to write:

burned up property, resolution of the book is that everything starts growing again. 

water will come from:  putting out the fires? weather? 

the view will be of a kingdom, coming in from the left, but the witches decided it’s in the way. so, they come up with a plan to move the kingdom over 

they investigate the area, close up you find that there are ballista towers at that end, followed by a large stone walls on two sides. inside the walls there is an owlery and some merchants set up with food stores nearby and other accessories. the witches gather wood chips and flower roots into jars, then burn them up to create charcoal, which they sell for money.

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j.k.rowling’s going to live on forever because she wrote her soul into the seven books. murders from book 1, the unicorn used to feed on by voldemort, harry’s parents are introduced as dead, and the idea that this wizard was known for his murders. all symbols of death that reflect the author’s view of how death affect her and her world. 

the second book,  the basilisk is killed, and tom’s evil memory of youth, all very iconic encounters of death and good people. 

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facade

how many times must you die a fraud?

how many falls does it take to lie, steady in the ground because you know where you’re growing?

how many times will the old road sign lead you to the way you wanted to go? shouldn’t you essentially be going the way you’re going? how effective should a path be anyway? why is the old circle such a point of aversion. 

though it has always been a symbol or origins, 

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Theories of the Universe

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but it all fit together, on top of the other, and physics was only confusing everybody about how. 

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dawn of eternity by anuvys

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Conflict in Literature

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What are you doing here?

I'm looking for food

Food? You don't have food where you come from?

I do not belong there anymore. I have forgotten their names.

Forgotten their names? Why did you do that?

I felt like I did not belong. I did not want their lives.

Okay. Young girl, come here. We will feed you, but I can see that you won't find what you came here for.

Thank you, I only need some rest and then I will be on my way. 

Okay, if that's what you think. She turned and motioned for me to follow her. 

The forest behind her was thick and humid. She broke into it with a swish of her arm and I ran up to keep close to her as she led me through the tropical ferns. Here the plants grew wild. I looked back and could no longer see the long endless desert from which I'd come. It was like I had never spent any time there at all, now things were so rich and green, a desert seemed an impossible existence. 

Yet, I had crossed it. I had crossed the desert that I feard as a child. The place that no man came back from; the place where nothing would assure you life. Now I was with a forest spirit. She was beautiful and strong. She threw aside giant leaaves that could slash through your face if you weren't careful and walked into one. I paid close attention to her footsteps. I didn't want to step on anything alive or dead. But she tread on, squashing little fruits that smelled like fresh seawater when they burst underneath us. I tried to look around through all the huge plants to see where they'd come from, but she was beginning to walk faster and faster so I was struggling to keep up. 

She had long purple braids trailing down her back and the beads at the end of them clicked as she moved onwards. I thought again, she's beautiful. Then remembered that she'd said I would not find what I was looking for at her home. I was curious as to what she thought I could need that they couldn't provide, but now there was currently too much noise distracting me from starting a conversation. There were birds chirping, strange long noises, they didn't sound like any of the birds we had back home. They sounded like colorful, big birds, the kind that come into your life for reasons other than curiousity. Every now and then I would catch a glimpse of some wings pattering through the thicket of fronds surrounding us, but never could I piece together these glimpses to imagine what a whole bird looked like. 

So many questions started coming to mind about this forest, about this girl, about where it was we were going, but I kept quiet. I would only be in her world for a short period of time. And my journey was not about exploration precisely, I knew I had left home for other reasons. More important things. I knew I would know what it was when I saw it, and that I should only to ask for what I really needed from her family. 

Finally, the air around us began to change. It started to feel less humid and crisper. I could feel my legs starting to get sore at the calves and I gathered that we must be going up hill, even if visibly, there was no change in incline of our path. 

Just a few more jumps, she said. 

I tried to bridge the gap between us by taking bigger steps. She was now almost running with me through the jungle. The trees around us had begun to change too. There were now lots of bamboo sticks replacing the wider tree trunks in the forest.  I had been taught that many animals lived off of these their whole lives and that they should be revered as a sign of wealth. 

She stopped so suddenly I had to reach out to my sides to brace myself. I grabbed one of the closest bamboo stalks and caught my breath. She turned and smiled at me as she reached for my hand. She led me through the last grove of stalks and we entered a large blue clearing. 

I had to blink my eyes several times before I believed what I was seeing. It was an immense and shining blue lake. The forest around the lake sparkled and chattered its greetings all around us. 

Welcome to my home, she smiled. We call this place Saloo. 

Saloo, it's beautiful. I said to her. Here at the edge of the forest I could see how insanely tall the bamboo was around us. Everything was so alive, even the water was singing its slow patter to the rocks surrounding the lake edges.

Come, she said, leading me along the lake's edge to her family on the other side of the lake. 

What is your name? I asked

[desertd]

Intro Text

the culture that formed america, and continues to fling it into the future, is the idea, the one idea, of reaching for more. of consuming more. of creating more. of being better than that which was. to be the best explorer. to be the best discoverer. to have a better reputation. better crops. better job. better credentials. better knowledge of what is out there. america is the west, the place of freedom for those who desire. those who want more and believe in more. in america your children are supposed to be better than you, do more than you. find more meaning than you did.

in this culture those who are humbled by all that they have achieved, have possessed, have experienced, they fall out of sync with society. when their friends notice, it is up to the individual to find new people who don't find their particular disconnect insulting. because for some it is insulting for others to be disconnected from the society they themselves strive to stay on top of. they are still in their prime and they are still full of joy when they jive with someone who wants more than them. for others it is not so easy to appreciate that there are individuals who are still striving for more. and some are content with just keeping their heads above the water, it is a skill that they feel they've learned from this culture, and they resent the sand dwellers who carefully study all of this.

Notes. I will remove references to america and change the name to something else. for the majority of people it is not easy to appreciate the individuals still striving. this is a lesson in the story. 

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I woke up, lying on flat ground, my eyes shut tight again to block out the intense brightness. i didn't know where i was, but i felt ok and together. I felt soft sand and little rocks get carried onto my face by the wind and I sat up to brush it off. Immediately I felt the warmth of the day and saw that I was right smack in the middle of a desert -the kind with hard brown dirt that hadn't budged since the day the earth first shook. There were little tufts of grass so and the occasional tumbleweed stuck to dead tree stumps. 

I needed to get a better view of my surroundings, I decided, clapping dirt off my hands as I stood. It was flat as far as the eye could see, all around me. The stumps of trees going on and on until they disappeared at the horizon line on all sides. 

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Plot Layout

Meeting animals. This is the introduction when the first instances of curiosity are raised and then it all gets more and more complicated. More specific, less friendly and finally, monstrous. 

Meeting tribes. This will include the bird people by the cavesides. There's a huge mountainside and all throughout it there are caves. Top of the cliff is visible in clear mornings and during storms. People only climb it to get home. Spear hunting and dress making. Leaves in hair and kids in the air haha. 

Meeting lovers. This is the part where she gets the most confused. There are snippets of different people, all of them just one, the other. Explicit attention is paid to what they sound like, one voice combining into one. There are several instances where the memories are vivid and you know the person's name is distinct from all the other's. A day at the beach, with the fair in the background, a day at Coney Island where you first felt like you landed in the right body. A day in the back car seat when it all first came apart. 

This book will be a book of myths, the book that illustrates my history, my life, the symbols i've encountered and the ways I learned about them. I think in the end it could be a beautiful series of stories published separately and illustrated by many artists. 

Meeting Death. Alone and together. This should be sad and satisfying to the reader. There's going to be heartbreak, and many stories will lead to this place, this setting of death, but is there hope afterwards? Yes or no? I don't know. I would say yes, because I love Jonathan and I would love to go at it again, do all of it all over again, but that's a privilege I denied myself from having for a really long time. 

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Lost in the cactus arboretum.