Sunday, August 23, 2009
It started when I saw the self-portrait of the usual companion proven to be entirely different from the personal. It fumigated responses from the judgmental, bothered by its glamorous beauty from the innocence usually projected. However, the judgmental did not know her. She decided to visit home for renewal.
We were seriously talking while walking from the kitchen to the living room. The ceiling was showing its dire request for reconstruction, but the will that controls instills hindrance. The poverty around was abundant and disinterested. It was quite unusual. We parted for her to breathe out the pressure, her paleness was developing further. I walked forward through the stairs and saw the door towards the re-conceptualized room. It was turned and enlarged into a library, the books were unseen. Near the end, I saw another usual companion, her hair unruly. Her face structure deranged, she tried to smile, but it was still awkward. I hugged her for the emphasis of my happiness and decided to return back to the pale usual friend.
As I went back to the living room and sensed her heaviness, the last usual friend passed by. Her hair was unruly as well, her disposition was extremely defensive from her inappropriate appearance. There was no discrimination, but the truth was turned to the standard negativity in perception. With her simplicity, she escorted the pale usual friend to me as we enter the storage room for books and reading.
We searched for the right book while remembering the past life. We were contented, but we could not find the book. The pale and the last usual companion continued to talk, as if indifferent on what we had to find. I proceeded further and walked from shelf to shelf for a better strategy. I started to jump to reach out for the top and slid miserably through the shiny floor. The shelves were covering the other existence. When I reached the other side, I saw the other usual companion, her hair unruly, her shirt same as mine. She shifted seats and was eyeing me and was projecting the feeling of hopefulness that I would go to her. So I did. I hugged her again, but left her soon afterwards for I have to find the book. I failed, but did not grow disappointed.
It started to rain hard. The loud tapping of the rain on the metal roof was building the setting. I left the three of them and started to get out of the main door to the terrace. I was bathing in front of the innermost gate of home, almost inside the terrace before the said door to the living room. I undressed myself and let the furious falling rain from the roof wash me. The flood was starting to devour the soil. I put shampoo to my hair and the water falling from me started to become milky in color. I minded the terrace would be cleansed as well for the shampoo has its cleansing material, but I also developed fear for my father would realize what I did with what the mess I created. I continued to rub my body madly, eager to wash myself. I did not care who had seen, I was earnest to clean.
The darkness was whole, the humid was untimely. The third hand was sewing on its own; the other two were resting, sleeping in the raw night before I decided to wake up.
Erika Ruiz
I was the quarterback in the most inappropriate setting - the theater stage. The spotlight was striking, the audience were dim, distracting my eyes to the absolute direction. I was wearing a pink uniform with an unknown jersery number. I was holding an eraser and was doing the baseball process of throwing a ball. Nobody caught it, they were staring, mindful of the play that was progressing.
As I finally held the football appropriate to what I was wearing, an obese woman from the blurry audience shouted that it would be more suitable for everyone to attend a faithful companion's farewell party. I received the attention and went off stage, ready to go home. I felt that I wasn't really invited, as if the obese woman was only channeling the motion to the unfamiliar audience.
I discovered that my roommates were a moon-faced youth, an ordinary boy, an Indian woman, and an extremely thin youth. We were in the common room of our common home.
The extremely thin youth checked my pack of vitamins and asked about the vitamin E. It turned out she was also having her party somewhere, which she didn't attend. She explained convincingly that the father of her son already went to it before it even started. We felt special that she chose to be with us.
The Indian woman, on the other hand, did not wait for anything to come back to Saudi Arabia due to its constraints. Both the moon-faced youth and the ordinary boy stayed quiet, absorbed by their trait of frightful belongingness.
We went out to the nightlights, drifting away. We disappeared and the lights went out.
Erika Ruiz
Saturday, August 22, 2009
I sealed then dropped the two white envelopes to the land afterwards. After a weak thought, I decided to follow. The night was young, I was waiting for him to complete the mission. I sat where I landed, the envelopes on my side; no one came to the destined setting.
I finally saw a usual companion, his face showed that what I was supposed to give was too late. The love of his life was gone.
It was not a trivial manner for angels to descend, so I decided to enjoy the land's festivities while being there.
We went home. There was a celebration and everyone was happy.
We sat, forming a circle, in order to reflect on this positive energy. An elder empathizes, but he declared by my usual companion was dreading. While being said, the usual companion was looking straight at me sadly, and I nodded in sympathy. His mole was too big that I forgot about the lost cause of my mission in the land for a while.
Two usual companions sat on either side of me. The other one asked what was the discourse about, his almond eyes were disturbing. I did not answer for I did not want this happiness to end in cynicism: another failed mission on my part.
We were happy.
At the end, we decided to do games. The elder asked for volunteers. Six usual companions and I made three pairs. While waiting for more pairs, we danced happily. The envelopes were forgotten, the usual companion with the huge mole's presence was still there, but his body apparition was nil.
Erika Ruiz
Within the syndicate, there was a good and bad. I chose the good.
I went to the rest room to defecate. As I entered, I saw a doll in the dark filthy setting. The room was filled with contrasting colors, the foul was present. I needed to do my deed, but the toilets were strangely begrimed. I went out and walked some more.
As I pass through the castle, submitting to its labyrinth direction, I kept on seeing the runners. They wore sweat shirts and rubber shoes with towels on their shoulder. They were all over, ruining the stillness of the setting.
The point of view transitioned to Reno, a runner, who was motivated to see me after our several encounter. I did not notice him, however. The last time he saw me was when I ascended to the solid staircase to penetrate the brain.
He ran and repeated his routine, going up and down, to the staircase where he last saw me. He was obliged to run in that exact meters and when he was able to complete so, he went pushed the large door to follow me. What he saw was not the brain in the dark greenish-reddish room, but the outside.
The outer part of the castle was filled with bricks, he observed. Asking himself if Kili was alright, he descended to the stairs when someone pulled the trigger. The assassin barely shot Reno. In turn, he killed the man in his own method. He went into the other entrance below and checked its interior. He needed to go inside the brain just as what he knew I did in order to search for Kili. The interior had no other passageway so he went out. Running, he saw another assassin, with his sling on his hand. He wandered why the man was killed as well. The two assassins were dead. He ascended to where he descended before and entered the door, again, where he went out. He saw the greenish-reddish darkness and the brain, pumping like heartbeats.
He disappeared when he reached the brain. I went there, but I saw neither the interior nor the brain.
Erika Ruiz
In the unusual house were plenty of rooms that were untouched and unseen. Everything was in total sepia tone reflected from the afternoon lights, there were no artificial lights in the house. I grew weary of waiting for the night. The paranoia of not being able to see in the darkness was frightening so I decided to sleep early. I reposed on the bed beside the unused closet.
I woke up too early and I knew it was 4 o'clock in the morning. Everything was black and I could not see the closet. I stood up, bothered. Then I started hearing noises outside the door, as if people were talking quietly. I stood in front of the door, but did not open it. I was about to do something when an usual companion suddenly entered the room, the afternoon-like lights outside my room attacked with speed and shed little light. He was homosexual, entered and smiled. As if used to my existence, he disconcertingly proceeded straight to a side of the bed and slept.
This was not my territory, so I went home.
From the unknown process, I saw the civilization. I ascended to the building in order to get to my apartment. As I passed through the afternoon-lit corridor, I put the key to where I would reside, entered and closed the door.
My sister was visiting. She was checking everything, the discourse I was having with her was lucid, but the people from the other doors outside were creating unwanted noises reaching the corridor. In the end, we decided to let a few children in and eat. With this, we let the door open.
We ate quietly on the large table. There was a healthy little girl with long curly black hair; she was showing indifference. There was also a pregnant youth, her hair was straight and blond. The conversation was not interesting. After eating, some of the children passed through the door with their fithy dishes and gave it to my mother. She was sitting low, with buckets filled with water, to wash the dishes willingly. It was part of the routine, anyway, so we agreed. By the time a few more children were going out, she was amazed by how many plates and utensils were piling up. She remained submitted to the routine. It irritated me extremely. I decided to resist.
After I was done, I left my finished dish on the table and stood up to block the exit. I told to what was left of the kids that they have their dishes be cleaned on their own. With clarity and staring, they nodded unhesitantly. I sat back to observe the effect of the discipline I established.
Led by the little girl with the curly hair and followed by the pregnant youth, they stood and went out to give their dishes to my mother, who accepted the bullshit willingly.
I grew fatigued and cut the line before they even give their dishes to my mother. The corridor outside the apartment changed into a bricked hallway, like that of an ancient cityhall. I said to stop, but they did not care.
The girl with the curly hair stared at my mother with deep pity, hinge of indifference existing. That was pulled the trigger: I was enraged wholeheartedly. To express my rage, I grabbed her hair and shook it violently. I did not know to who the pregnant youth was worried about. I did not care, I literally wished she would bleed and die.
I declared that it does not mean that way and that she only needed to follow with respect. She was looking at me indifferently the whole time, just like a doll. I forcefully dropped her where she was left lying on the ground, motionless, as if it was finally her time to be executed.
The outside looked like the Renaissance hallway and I went inside.
Erika Ruiz
Friday, August 14, 2009
An unusual companion entered the room and declared that she needed to defecate to the bathing room, by the side of the door. She hurriedly went in only to be stopped by some usual companions with the reason of bathing being more important than what she was about to do. It was also common sense that there was another rest room where defecating was more accurate. She opened the bathing room door, indifferent, and proceeded to where the smaller rest room was. I had a feeling she was indulged with the inconvenience for the boundaries weren't existing.
The bathing room was large and dull, but it looked expensive and sophisticated. The lights from the candles were shining shyly. There were two bathtubs filled with water. The water was all over the place, but it projects an extremely calm ambiance. There was a fountain and as we stepped in, we stepped on water. It was pure; so we started to undress.
A usual companion placed himself to the bathtub filled with water. Seeing he was entirely huge, some water literally flew out of the tub. The scene was not bizarre. The other one sat on the edge of the other tub, scrubbing her arm. Her lips were so red with lipstick it was unbearable, but I knew she had the potential. I was only standing, observing the phenomenon as I let myself get wet with the clean water all over my entirety.
Suddenly, it was time to go home. Unfinished with our cleansing, we dressed casually and went out. The night was clear and the stars were beautiful. It was a formal habit to eat before we go on the road. We sat on a small terrace, enjoying the luminous night, talking incoherently. I brought my camera; it was hanging on my neck. I did not use it in the moment.
We saw the province boys walking in line, carrying drums in front of them. They were hospitable enough to have this little celebration equivalent to their welcoming. In the right time, they started playing and created sounds. It was the start of the ending of the celebration. I wanted to go back to the room for my bathing was incomplete; I did not want them to sense my filth. I passed through the province boys until the rest of the group started to come out of the room. The professor got mad that we did not follow the protocol of going out all at the same time. We were taken by the flow, the calling of longing and goodbye to the province. I ignored their passing as I had no choice, I just have to go back in.
They retreated to proceed to the destination of the festivity as I and the usual companion who took pictures with me entered the room. The province boys followed them. I could not bath anymore so I just applied cleanser to cover my filth. We passed by the terraces onto the little huts where we were supposed to eat. Instead of seeing everyone, we saw another usual companion lying on the grass by the side of a hut, as if enjoying herself in her thinness. I asked her if she wanted to pose for a picture. She smiled and sat up to pose. I took pictures of her as we drifted away to the moment. Another usual companion went back from the destination to check us out. I remembered her standards were high. We submitted to our current being.
The night went brighter and reversed back into the falling afternoon. The four of us went to sit to where everyone else was and turned our backs on the water. Everyone was facing each other. We were like in a small cemented bridge. A bald middle-aged man sat on the center and started singing into the wild. We sang along, celebrating. I remembered I brought my guitar with me, but it was in the room. A usual companion of mine, who was practicing it the whole time we were in the retreat, happened to brought it along with her as we sang. She said that she had been practicing the tabs for the song we were singing. She learned it over our stay and I had not learned anything. Feeling ridiculous over my predicament, she started to stram, but the bald middle-aged man initiated a new song. This time, we both did not know the tune that goes with it and she stopped holding the guitar. An old man sat beside me, the usual companion who discarded the guitar on my left, and grabbed the guitar. The attention of all went to the famous old man who was proud. He said he was going to show a new technique he developed, playing with the chords. The night was back. Just before he hit another melody, pressing the thickest string too hard, it broke. The guitar was broken and it was ignored. I felt sad.
To kill the remorse, the usual companion decided to share the pictures we took a little earlier during the day. He developed his pictures and showed it to us gaily. It was bizarre though, for the provinces are usually not affected by the intrusiveness of technology. His face on the picture showed the same, but the background exposed the otherwise. In one of his pictures, where he was reclining on his right shoulder while holding a spoon and ice cream on either of his hands, there was a ghost of a girl. The girl seemed to mock what he did. We grew frightened. In another shot with the same position, the ghost of the girl mutated herself. Reclining in the same angle as the usual companion did, the ghost of the girl developed two faces; the other one was connected to her chin, upside down. The frequency of fear increased. The last one showed the ghost of an old middle-aged man's face. It seemed as if the ghost was startled of the flash that the camera did. In transformation, the ghost had two faces; it's as if the face was doing quick nod it produced too many variations. It was like a multiple exposure, despite the digital nature of the camera. I did not want to develop mine.
Erika Ruiz
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The road was not narrow, beautiful pines on the background were still. The mood was dead and the vehicles passing were undecided. In another turn, the lights of cool noon went grim. Almost like the familiar park beside, the way was straight. There was an end, but no stopping.
The sleep was at home.
Erika Ruiz
Sunday, August 09, 2009
There was a thin chicken. It was part of the parade. It was inside a big battered red plastic cage filled with tape to fully cover its appearance. It was making sounds and bumping all over the pavement, not really seeing what's in front. It was a suspect.
There was an unusual companion, the aid of a usual companion. She was wearing a turquoise dress that seemed to bulk everything against her silhouette. I saw a video where she was selling it well in the catwalk, from childhood up to now. She doesn't change. She was a suspect.
I saw my face from my mother's eyes as I face her, sitting on the passenger's seat of the vehicle. I was a singer like the unusual companion. I went some place where my mother did not want me to go.
I did not go far. I went into the kitchen where there were fine drinking and talking. We were listening to the things that made us stop.
Erika Ruiz
Saturday, August 08, 2009
The conscious was not aware of the fragmentation.
The attack was severe and was finally calling me:
Happiness does not belong to strain but solitary,
escapism from the given direction.
Love does not concur with my contentment;
I do not love and distorting silence disappears.
The filth I developed could never be shared,
however, I remain to decipher and yield
learning, avoiding total disconnection
for the music to be real along the lines of sting.
Peace is not void, rage is controlled.
Whatever beauty I created could never 'be':
words too long, thought unsaid, portraying failed.
Abstractions magnified in mad disjunction,
dreams valued, substance pierces to order.
There is no lack of expression,
only the attempt fails when misread
so the grace disappears as instrument rusts.
I progress to not let chance swing value away.
The old aging time restates in continuity,
needing to justify the accident pure in act.
Until death materializes its utter existence,
this will grant me worthwhile forever.
Erika Ruiz
Friday, August 07, 2009
A nun smiled with endearment to what she had seen as she went out of the dark room. On the left side, I saw three square doors by the wall adjacent to the exit, each larger than its own. I noticed that two larger ones were open, but I could not see the inside so I turned my back to return to my unusual companion with the guide. It was not amusing to observe the art that cannot be discerned. Suddenly the smallest door opened, whispering incoherent words directed to me. I looked back, but ignored it and in the end we proceeded to the a new art.
It was a long narrowed and enclosed cemented one-way. The setting was extremely dry and there were suddenly alot of expectators. We were there to see the winding waves. There was only one door serving as the entrance and way out. No one dared to go to the other end to see whatever is in. The view in front of us was dry, the other side were just cemented walls that got broken due to old age. A being could actually hide there and with its large holes, more than three beings could fit.
I was walking around, moving forward, until I stopped when my senses were getting weak. The farther part of the way was extremely uknowing so I walked back. When I got to the edge near the door of entrance and exit, I saw a beautiful sculpture of waves. We knew it was to support the waves of the actual water and we were getting apprehensive. There was a sound I could not explain. We thought the water would appear, but nothing had changed. Instead a few more beings entered the door and we were frightened.
A lot of the beings ran when they saw the demented beings, wearing rather grotesque clothing and weary faces. They ran-walked as if ready to attack and I hid at one of the holes and saw two beings already hiding in there; I did not care. I was suddenly wearing a dress that looked like that of the demented beings and I felt my whole body being wet, as if the water had attacked us. A demented woman found us and all of us felt fear. Smiling, she moved around as if to show that she owns us now. I walked away to avoid her gaze. Maybe it was part of the entertainment, nonetheless it felt real.
Erika Ruiz
Thursday, August 06, 2009
I moved from the garden and went inside the old house. I went by the terrace and saw a fish kid swimming around in a non-existent pond. I received my father's letter and gave it to the little girl, to make her happy.
Erika Ruiz
Monday, August 03, 2009
I entered a church where people were seated sideways from the altar's front. I was expecting my family and they were there. While circumventing the whole church, casually bumping over the seats of the seated people, I told my sister and a usual companion about father. I was saying something I did not know myself.
I sat on the back seat, saddened. I was the only one facing the altar.
The church was high so there were escalators to avoid fatigue. My sister, coming from below went up as I descended, coming from the top. As I went down and reached the bottom, I felt my youth. It was futile that the descending escalator like going down, but I ended up in the same position as where I stood on the church. I looked back and grabbed my pouch from the distorting escalator as we decided to walk home.
Along with another usual companion, I walked once again to the bridge made of bridge. It was like the time of Spanish colonization. The usual companion whom I was walking side by side told me that this would be where they will reside, near this province that I don't know of. As we walked, I noticed there were a lot of spit.
We got home, the home that of which is not from the province, I saw our dog timidly barking inside when the door opened. I did not enter and proceeded into eyeing my left where a variety of plants and trees were abundant and growing. I saw Munich, my beloved cat, but he was not gray anymore - his colored turned into orange. At first, he was aloof, not sure that it was me. But as soon as I reached my hand to reach and scratch him below his head while calling him with my favorite endearment, he ran towards me. I welcomed him with an embrace and felt happy.
Erika Ruiz
I saw my mother and my father in a distance. I ought not to concern myself into the matter, but the subconscious liquified the burdened indifference. I stopped and played. Then I remembered a poem I wrote and ate with my aunt.
Erika Ruiz
I haven't been home in days. In a fragile bar, I was obliged to go home and so I did. With two of my usual companions we went to a usual place in the city. We sat in front of my small unit. The doors were clear, it was like a store, but the furniture indicates its a home, but then there was no proper entry.
I went in and felt familiarity. The inner door opened and I saw my mother. I asked her to give me fruits, bananas in particular, while I wander around, rediscovering the new vignettes around. She did not call me, but I went and sat in front of her on the table with a whole sculpture of chocolate inside cones. I did not want it, but I took one and ate it. I refused and complained, but I took another one. I asked her to try it.
I went to bed at the outer part of the home, where the clear doors transpire the nightlights of the streets. I remembered school nights and overnights.
Erika Ruiz
Saturday, August 01, 2009
An enormous orange train with a wide uncovered opening expressed its voluntary mission. We started running towards it as it was not stopping, but it was the train that we have to ride. I though I was the last one to have grabbed myself in, but a usual companion of mine failed to have a grab on the bus and bounced out. All of the beings inside didn't care as I look over the window where she was being indifferent of not being able to fulfill her standards.
We all met into a commercial establishment filled with closed and open commercial establishment and reposed to eat on the food court. The side were filled with loading and unloading vehicles. Then we all left and walked towards the province to stop.
We went inside a small restaurant on the second floor with a good ambiance. We were watching the pictures and memories on the frames, they were moving and alive. Some foreigners were eyeing our watching that of which annoyed me. It rained, the night was feeble.
We decided to go out and wait for the bus. Walking, the four of us walked as the rain grew madder. We decided the rain was attacking us and went to the side of a nearby store for cover. No vehicle ever appeared, instead there were a lot of little boys, too dark to even see their visages; they looked like they were shadows. They were running without hesitation.
We shouted to cheer them up. Out of all the four of us, I shouted the loudest. I kept on doing it until the owners of the store went out and looked at us with discomfort. I just looked back.
Erika Ruiz
He was conventional about the unconventional that he believes, in difference. She was breathing extreme calmness and deconstructive thinking. They grew attached. She talked to her friend while looking at him as he stood in front of the class brooding and trying to send her a message.
One of them misunderstood the message. It was almost there, but the bridge was cut.
Erika Ruiz
I forgot I put the husband and the wife on the second one. They wouldn't even fit. I waited. When I felt that the first one's round is enough I started putting fabric softener without the mission of drying it after. I realized the time of the first one wasn't enough so I quasi-panicked and took the second one for granted. The third one was done without a doubt and I took the plastic test tube container off of it onto the kitchen table and I stopped altogether.
The husband and the wife were walking on the fields outside the house where I disappeared. They wife was pregnant and they were trying to talk to the father of the husband, as if arguing to gain blessings of what they've been trying to pursue. Mr. McFillie was the father, portraying the real Mr. McRoggin in a film. The washed clothes weren't hanged; they were spread on the field. Mr. McFillie, the husband and the wife lay on their sides on the washed blankets. They were talking and Mr. McFillie commanded his son to pick the chocolate on the grass with his tongue... and he did, as if wanting to get that blessing desperately.
The background was done, the shooting was ended.
Erika Ruiz
I think I was 5 or 8 years old when I dreamt about this. This was the very first dream I remembered.
Erika Ruiz
