I’m out of clever metaphors, so I’ll just start typing. Maybe I’ll even tell the truth. That’s how this started, sitting down, and writing the story; a manifesto dubbed witchcraft written in dark corners of ice rink locker rooms. His words, not mine. If I was going to do witchcraft, I’d commit to the act, not just write love letters.
I’ve never felt my body go numb like that before. Like a punch to the gut, my mind went blank. I felt sick. There haven’t been many times where I’ve been left speechless; always having something to say and continuously preaching communication, but this left me grasping for my vowels. I’m still not sure where they’ve gone. If you find them, please return to sender. Even the words I’m typing now seem foreign to me - forced. They aren’t dripping in honey like usual. I don’t feel the need to pick them out of sticky sweet syrup and lick them clean before plating and serving them in a way that is appropriate for my audience. I’m always having to force my own palatability but today it feels like I don’t remember how. Now i’m just throwing them down to get rid of them, disgusted by having to keep them to myself.
Still nauseous, still getting sick.
So, take them or don’t. I don’t care anymore.
When I was younger, my brother gave me a collection of burnt DVDs in one of those old CD cases that you flipped through like a book. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Fight Club, Trainspotting, Brick, Requiem for a Dream. All ironically good movies for someone like my brother to pass along; also, extremely irresponsible films to feed to your kid sister. I did what anyone with a portable DVD player and a childlike fascination with their big brother would do – watched them all religiously and chose one to hyper fixate on. Specifically, the 1999 film starring Edward Norton and Brad Pitt - Fight Club. You can probably track most of my issues back to my brother, but at least he gifted me with a cool taste in multimedia. Can you imagine If I watched marvel instead of picking up those illegally made copies of DVDs as an 11-year-old?
Sure, it would be nice to have a real sibling who loved me, but I’ll take what I can get.
What is the antithesis of love, anyways?
If you know anything about Fight Club or possess common sense and the ability to read the title, you know that it is not a love story. Although, romance did come into play when the author, Chuck Palahniuk, was writing the story. Chuck got to one scene in particular and asked himself “What is the most romantic thing someone can say after sex?”
He arrived at the answer “I want to have your baby”.
I’ve always been afraid to say that, even if I was thinking it. I’ve gotten close, but the words always got caught up in my throat. Too thick with honey, too sticky sweet with syrup. So, I kept it to myself, for fear of making them think I was straight cuckoo bananas. A lot of guys would head for the hills if you uttered those words. Unless, you know, you were already in a baby-having situation with them, which I never was.
Personally, I can’t imagine anyone loving me that much. Maybe, I wish someone did.
But I guess Palahniuk thought it was romantic – THE most romantic, actually.
I can see where he’s coming from.
Remember what I said, though? This movie is categorized under a different genre. You don’t know my brother, but trust me, he’s not the type of guy to own bootleg love stories. And Palahniuk doesn’t even write romance. He writes stories called “Guts” and lines like “Birds ate my face”. The scene in question, a case of pillow talk between Tyler Durden and Marla Singer (a character described as infectious human waste), was not a romantic scene. Thus, forcing Chuck to ask another more fitting question: “What is the antithesis of romance?”
If the most romantic thing anyone could say is “I want to have your baby”, the least romantic thing and the most Marla thing, purely formulaically, is “I want to have your abortion”.
Close enough, right? Who needs romance, anyways.
It turns out that nobody liked that line. I bet you didn’t either. Touchy subject.
The thing is, Palahniuk doesn’t care about palatability. If anything, he yearns for his writing to be the antithesis of palatability. Reviews of his public readings recall people having to step out due to nausea. His words made them feel sick. He wanted his stories to effect people, to feel like a punch to the gut. So do I. So do you. That’s why we keep reading. That was the whole purpose of Fight Club anyways, right? To force you to feel something.
In the book the narrator says, “I felt like destroying something beautiful”. I’m not sure if Chuck wrote that line before or after deciding what the antithesis of the most romantic thing was, but if you ask me, one probably led to the other. Maybe that was his thought process when he asked himself that question - what’s the antithesis of romance; What’s the antithesis of love?
It might not be palatable, but the answer did make me feel something.
Sick, nauseous, a punch to the gut. The desired effect.
He must have felt like destroying something beautiful.
So, it seems like I can’t forgo the metaphors after all, but at least I tried to be truthful. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I’m still trying to work through my own numbness This probably won’t come as a shock coming from the likes of me, but I can understand why Fight Club was so popular, I’ve always had an interesting flirtationship with my own sense of physical pain. …Wait, don’t tell my psychiatrist I said that! It was rhetorical, I’m just musing, I’m just being quirky.
I’m just…fuck, why did you do this?
Sorry, I didn’t mean to break the third wall.
Anyways, I get it, in a weird way. The whole idea about trying to really feel something again. That’s what I do here, that’s why you’re reading this. I’m so full of bitter, I’m just trying to get back to my sweet, I liked when my thoughts were dripping in honey. I preferred when everything felt like a little treat. Now I have to go and find my consonants again, sort myself out enough to go look for my vowels – so if you find them, go ahead and send them over.
P.S. Take this as my apology for today’s lack of palatability.
It’s okay as long as I achieved the desired effect, right? It’s all for the sake of the art.
Did I make you feel something? Did your mind go blank? Do you feel sick? A little nauseous? Did this feel like a punch to the gut?
Good.
You can step out now.
Enhance your reading experience with today’s Blog pairing menu:
Catchy tune: Twin Flame by MGK
Lil’ Snack: Honey Bunches of Oats w almond (topped with cinnamon)