a chapter from each character i think. i'll continue with alison. alison's the hedonist of the group, along with the most emotionally fragile. but because she's not quite as prone to thinking profoundly, she's written entirely differently. i'm still not sure if i'm doing the idea of her in my head justice. she's such a huge personality, and kind of in charge of the group.none of us were planning this, i don't think, but hell; show me a crystal ball and i could have pointed you in the right fucking direction. there's only so long before people like us meet, and crystallize, and blast off into outer space. i guess to us, the desert was outer space. a faux-space where sand flies like stars and jackrabbits orbit the cactuses like meteors and planets. either way, christ, you don't plan these things to, like, be.
for me it started with (zuts alors) professor guillame. oh yeah, he taught me la belle francais alright. his salt-and-pepper style and that delicate way older men are were what did it, i think. i liked to think i could overpower him, overwhelm his little world. give him back what zest for life he had.
alison: mmmmm, a vivacious sex goddess, reinvigorating those limp little men and their limp little souls. answering the mewls; 'wah wah wah, my wife's a bitch and goddamn i didn't think life'd turn out like this, god i wish i could get it up' creating life where there was no life. the positive giver of blood; she giveth you the wood, and then she taketh away. she's a veritable cup of sexual charm, and her cup spilleth over.
truth? all these sad little men they kind of turn me on, they make me sick so much. when my mom found out i was screwing them, she didn't understand. that's fair, i don't think many people understand it too good. but, like, with her devotion to drama, she threw me out of the house. momma done threw me on the porch with a trash bag full of my shit, and told me i could take up with someone else. momma done bust my heart is what she done. god, alison, shut up.
but wait: i get ahead of myself. people always say that, they say alison alison slow down kid, you got all the time in the world so slow down. but if i've got all the time in the world then why doesn't it regenerate? why don't i control it? if i've got it all, then i'm losing it every second. life itself is a cosmic sweater being unraveled by that crazy kitten called time. and if i slowed down, i'd be too scared to speed up again. maybe if i stop looking at clocks, timing everything and shit, time'll stop.. or reverse . i never wanted the time i spent on the road to end, but it did. it was like time couldn't find me. for a brief period of time, four people existed outside of anything. anything at all. nothing could find us, hurt us, make us old or sick, poison us, break us or even find its way into our secret world to touch us. the people i remember are different to the people i see now, so obviously something found us. running away was about the smartest move i ever made, and goddamn i'm not too smart, (i always knew that) and i'd do it again if i could guarantee i'd get to be that way again. like the best things in life, i didn't realise how happy i was until it was over. i lost a hold of the bluebird that i loved.
godfuckingdamn, can you hear this? pathetic alison, reminiscing like a fucking diary. i think i meant to try and explain my life before we left for the desert but i've ruined it for myself now. yeah i can't do it now. yeah... no, try again later. we are currently cruising at 30, 000 feet and unable to land.
