Playground

I'm not Sasha. And she's not Corvid. We met a long time ago in a digital playground, where we played analog games, using names that weren't our own. We called it Roleplaying. Kids call it Pretend. We were other people and it was good.

We still do that. We write stories and shape make-believe lives, toying with conflicts between good and bad. Pretty and gruesome. I've been doing that since childhood and, apparently, never got over it. That could be a problem right there, but at least I get to mold that problem into a make-believe character. Grow it, twist it around. Exaggerate. It makes me feel simple in contrast. Safe, even when there's no reason to.

We haven't spoken in years, Corvid and I. And now we're playing again. I keep wondering why it is we went from 0 to 100 so fast and what the price of that will be. Because I'm sure there will be one. There always is. But for the time being, I'm having fun in this dangerous imbalance. It's a hell of a ride, even if I know it won't last. School's coming soon. And a change of jobs. The nights are just too hard, and I miss falling asleep with my wife. Even though I was never much good at that last bit.

We came up with a new story a couple of nights ago. Sasha and Maya - two junkies in a post-apocalyptic world. There is no romance in that story. There's plenty of pain, though. And fear. And self-abuse. I don't know, it makes little sense to me to project yourself into a stream of bits, just to shape creatures as miserable as those two. To cast them into a vicious environment and torture them in morbid games of survival. Make them lose their minds. It's something Real Writers do, and I can't say I am one. The process of writing, I just can't imagine it to be like this. There's too much burnout in this game for it to last a whole book. Too many haunting images, ideas, words.

I work a couple of hours drive from where I live, a thing which awards me with a lot of free time, alone. Driving. Just me, music, and haunting thoughts. So today, as I listened to the road's ever changing soundtrack, a few things clicked. And at the time, made me want to share. So I stopped the car at the nearest cafe and sat down to write.

I think I'll start with one for Corvid and Sasha, the digital personas. It's not really who we are... but in a way, it is. When we're in the playground.

Don't mind the video. There are no fancy visuals on the road. Only words, music, and delirious minds.

And here are the lyrics, translation courtesy of Google. It does sound better in Hebrew.

To sleep without dreaming
To sleep without knowing
To lie without thinking
To love without touching

Going to speak
A conversation without hearing
To whisper from afar
To whisper and run away

Airplanes pass low
Taxis return at night
From the north to the South
And I'm always below

To sleep without dreaming ...