Waking Up In Fanatic Gardens Again

.12:10 am

Hey! Now I feel like writing.

I'm coming up with a plan to get my world on the right track. Something that has been going through my mind quite a lot and Nicole reminded me of tonight is that I have a partial degree at the community college and I can still make that happen. There's no way that I could be the right man for her on a cook's wages. And what of Walt and Emily? I know that as a person I would make a great father, but you can't feed children on personality. I could still pursue the Mechanical Drafting but I think I'm feeling more drawn to CNC Machining. There's a lot of work available for that - it pays very well - and I know that I would enjoy it.

I got a wild hair and looked up "agents literary fiction" on Google and found several interesting articles and quite a few excellent references. It's time to put the final polish on Fanatic Gardens and get it out there. Wish I still had my laptop.

Igor woke up in Fanatic Gardens. He was walking home from school and found a piece of paper on the sidewalk. There were some pertinent words there - he committed them to memory and tossed the paper to the wind. And then he didn't go home.

He went to the building and there was a meeting under way and he sat down and then he was part of the meeting. He listened and what they were saying was making sense. A few made speeches and all agreed. Notes were written and preliminary plans were drafted. The meeting was adjourned and small groups of excited men formed. There was much murmuring and some voices were raised to passionate levels. Men shook hands and hurried off each to fulfill his part of the scheme. Within days the whole thing really began to take on shape. By the end of the week it was finished and the men stood around proud - each patting the other on the back. Some photographs were taken and then they all went home.

Igor went home. He finished his homework and went to bed early for school the next day.

.1:10 am

Igor woke up in Fanatic Gardens. It was cold and the sky was bluing. The last persistent stars were being turned off by the approaching sun. It was very quiet and he could hear the network of neighborhood dogs relaying messages to each other. A small truck filled with bundles of newspapers raced by and screeched to a stop at the corner. The sound of Johnny Cash poured out as the man opened the door of the truck and switched out a newspaper rack. And then the sound of a door slamming and impatient wheels eating pavement.

He sat perfectly still and listened to the gradual symphony as one by one the birds began to sing. One gentle melody and then another layering and answering. He watched as the darkness became silhouettes of trees and bushes and houses and fences and bicycles and cars and they all began to fill with infinite shades of gray and suddenly the sun peaked over the horizon and everything became color in a wondrous slow motion that happened way too fast. And then it was hot and it was day.

He stood up and folded his ground cover and put it in his pack and walked down the sidewalk.

.1:30 am

Igor woke up in Fanatic Gardens. It was time to go to bed and so he did and then he dreamed. He dreamed of dancing girls on freeway overpasses. He dreamed of multi-colored confetti floating down the Mississippi. He dreamed of roads lined with long lists of wishes. He dreamed about guitars and ashtrays. He dreamed that he could hear only the important words and it was a vibrating silence. He dreamed about forests of trees arranged geometrically - branches lacing together in complex arrays of ambiguity. He dreamed about specific crap. He dreamed about layers of simplicity. He dreamed about sounds that are made by sleeping people. He dreamed about gradual, delicate processes that result in divine beauty. He dreamed about hidden faces and tears. He dreamed about inventions that altered flavors and smells and left solid memories behind. He dreamed of wheels moving within wheels moving backwards. He dreamed that waking up would be the inevitable solution. He dreamed that changing surfaces were possible. He dreamed that the moon could be had for a song. He dreamed that rivers of opportunity were being dammed. He dreamed about a sound that was tickling every ear. He dreamed about a word that was on the tip of every tongue. He dreamed about sleep deprivation. He dreamed about a man who loved a woman. He dreamed about the earth and he saw Fanatic Gardens.

.2:30 am

Igor woke up in Fanatic Gardens. There was a Golden Moment happening and he was right in the middle of it. He opened all of his senses completely and prepared to absorb the whole thing. First he smelled it - waves and waves of mysterious odors blended and braided and reached into his brain triggering floods of memories and feelings. Then he could taste it. His mouth was dry and drooling at the same time. His tongue curled and twisted and savored and he swallowed repeatedly. Then in a blinding flash he could see and hear and feel it all around him. He was floating and spinning and exploding and then he lost consciousness.

Igor woke up in Fanatic Gardens. There was a Golden Moment happening and he was right in the middle of it. He sat calmly and let it pass through him. It moved around slowly and then faded and became forever a part of him. He closed his eyes and there it was. He looked off into the distance and there it was. He watched people together and there it was. He bit into an apple and there it was. He touched your hand and there it was. He listened to a heartbeat and it sang to him.