previously on chooseourownadventure.com:
…20 minutes til Milwaukee. it’s been 7 hours of driving. I start to make that noise that your laptop does when you’ve been on it too long. I am ice cream running down your fingers faster than you can lick, I am neon sign flickering.
I am Scott Baio’s career, post Charles in Charge.
my heart is pumping sigur ros beats dipped in fudge, I am slowly becoming slowly.
and then it happened.
the mistake i swore i would never make.
I still replay this next scene in my head over and over again against my own will.
It started off because of the stupid sunset.
Stupid colors. smeared across the sky like war paint on a geisha who was part chameleon and pissed about it. so bold. unafraid. unapologetic. standing there, all magestic like and shit, stupid sunset. why. why the fuck. why the fuck did you have to make me love you?
sunset: oh stop being such a pussy.
It started with me needing to take a billion photos of the stupid sunset with my 500$ digital camera, which I bought back when I had a job. I love that camera. with all my all my. Well why don’t I marry it? I would. I so would. you don’t even know. but I don’t marry dead inanimate objects, only living ones, strict policy. yes, you heard me, dead. my fucking camera is dead. Oh, about 2 days ago, I would have totally married my camera and mati would have been the flowerdog.
actually, technically, my camera is blind, but for cameras, blind is dead. If only cameras could play piano. I couldn’t stop taking pictures of the stupid sunset and so instead of putting my technological bride to be, back in her protective camera case [which wasn’t white for reasons I’d rather not discuss here out of respect for my beloved, blind, might as well be dead whore of a camera], I shoved her right between my legs for easy access. Jenn warned me to not put it in between my legs as it was a dangerous place. a danger that she’s known all too well, she reminded the camera. but it was too late. the camera was under the spell of my hypnotic teabaggery. there was no escaping. we might as well have been married.
[pic of camera in between my legs][a re-enactment]
we stopped to refuel because we were fuelless.
we were almost there, so far.
I step out to feed our Nissan mobilehome some fresh unleaded dark roast when I hear the demise of the roman empire crumblng down my leg. I hear a 6 car pile up crashing beneath me as I put my foot down on what used to be the earth. It’s not the earth. It’s my fucking camera. My fiance. My princess diana post papparrazzi chase. crushed. under the weight of my own heaviness I was crushed. I prayed it was my lighter. It was. It was my lighter and my camera. but I didn’t step on that precious 59 cent lighter, oh no, that would be unbearable, uh uh, I stepped on my fucking wife. my 5.0 megapixel steppford wife.
fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuckerty fuck.
when Jenn dropped the camera a few weeks back, nothing. invincible. I drop it, step on it with all my all my, and then all of a sudden it decides to go ray charles on me. If only cameras could sing hit the road jack and don’t you come back no more, no more, no more, no more before it actually hit the road, jacked, and never came back. at least then there would be music with the seelessness.
at least there would be a goodbye at the end of the lightless tunnel.
I couldn’t see the bigger picture. I snapped. darkness. I snapped again. more darkness. more snapping. nothingness. nothingness framed. 5.0 megapixels of zoomed in black holiness. I kept snapping. I kept seeing the problem. I kept seeing what I wasn’t seeing. stupid sunset. stupid almost there.
stupid in between my legs, stupid in between.
The sun had set and now there was nothing to snap at.
but I snapped anyway. I refused to keep seeing nothing even though that’s all I kept seeing. let there be light god dammit. let there be light god dammit pretty please? more not light. no stars, just me and my cosmic vacuum. why can’t my memory card proccess new memories? was I full of myself? I knew this would empty my cache. I needed to empty my cache. but how much would that cost? I refused to be stepped on by myself. I wanted Jesus to touch my eyes, but I couldn’t see where the fuck he was. I thought about how fragile eyes are. I thought about all the darkness that came from being stepped on. I thought about the finite space in my memory card and how I wanted to only keep what was worth looking at over and over again. I thought about the bigger picture.
I zoomed out and saw my blindness from a different lens.
I started to see what I wasn’t seeing. I started to remember that this was now. I wanted to remember that forever, for now. I took the camera to a camera place and they said it would cost almost as much to let there be light as it would to let there be a whole nother universe. I cried inside my pants. the place where it all began. the dangerous place. the place where she last saw light. the place Jenn warned her of. my crotch would be a forever shrine to her. people will bring flowers and lay them to rest where she last rested.
hey, hey, hey, whoa, not there pal, that is not a place for flowers, that is not a vase of sorts, mother fucker, just set them against the headstone please. other headstone. thank you. sheesh.
I’ve decided to get another camera. I’ve decided to empty my cash. because it costs more to capture darkness. it costs more to not take bigger and better pictures of the bigger and better picture.
I’ve decided to be strong and move on, like today.
I am jobless.
I am homeless.
I am buying a new camera today.
I love this blog. I love that I am in love with writing all over again for the first time again. I love my family. I love my life. I love my big picture.
All I want for Christmas is to never want anything for Christmas again, because I know that I know that I know that I have everything. that my life is a gabillion megapixels times infinty plus 4. that I am already captured and uploaded.
that I am my own default.
dear blind oversensitive camera who couldn’t survive a simple body slam to the asphault:
you will be missed until I buy another one just like you.
some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. delicious ambiguity…