Six and Nine - Writers Forum

LIGHTFOOT · 11-03-2005, 07:55 PM

(6+3=9. So, 9 was the answer. Was? No, is; 9 IS the answer. But how does that look?)

A half-finished Essay on how media effects American culture lay, well, half-finished on the small oval coffee table in the living room, while I stood in front of the fridge, with the door open and it's white light pouring out across myself and the cabinets behind me. My eyes lay upon a half-eaten bowl of pasta and a can of Jones Soda. (How does that look? When I think about it, I don't see a six and a three. What do I see?)

I pulled the desired objects from their rest and the bite of cold plastic and aluminum nipped at my fingers. I tried to picture the numbers in my head as I made my way to the microwave. I couldn't. All I could get was some amorphous mass of color that changed with my thoughts.(Six.(One blob of abstraction appeared.) Three.(Another one appeared.))

I put six and three together, and got a completely separate design.

Was this nine? I think it is. Exhilarated with my new discovery, I punched in 2:30 into the microwave, and then Start.(So, when I think of numbers, they aren't represented by their written symbol... but rather a by a more abstract image, that when combined with others, create completely new images and meanings. Like puzzle pieces... no, like when you have two triangles, and you put them together to make a square.)

I made my way back into the living room while the microwave counted down with an audible hum. (Three plus three is six. Triangle plus triangle is square. Does everybody think like this?) Coming from my headphones I could hear Mozart's Pianoforte Trio playing softly. People say classical music helps stimulate the mind, so I give it a chance whenever the mood strikes.(Trio. Three. Triangle and triangle make square. Six and three make nine. Is that pasta done yet?)
Looking back into the kitchen, I could see the small digital readout displaying, in blinking letters, the word END. I got up and retrieved the almost-too-hot bowl from the microwave, and made my way back to the living room. Halfway, I realized I forgot my Soda, and had to turn around.(Does this theory apply to words?) I thought about it, and realized that my mind's definition of a word was too complex to be summed up in shapes and colors.

Reclaiming my seat on the couch, thoughts of fragmented numbers and words temporarily forgotten, I glance over at my English essay, and push it farther away. I then turn my gaze upon the objects on the other side of the coffee table: a green pen, a American History textbook, and an open spiral covered in notes. Not my notes, the handwriting was far too legible.(How long is she going to be in the bathroom?) I realized that I should have grabbed an extra soda, and then set it down next to her books, and placed the pasta on the space between her work and mine.

I heard water run and saw light ricochet off the hallway walls and then disappear. Moments later a small, flawless figure appeared from the dark and reclaimed her seat next to me.

“Take your time, did you? I was about to go check if you fell in or something.”

“Hehe, sorry. I had to poo-poo.” She replied. I laughed.

“I'm sorry, what was that? You had to what?”

“Shut up. Is this for me?” She asked, looking down at both the bowl of pasta and the soda.

“Yup.”

"Aww, thank you." And she followed it up with a kiss.

She forked some pasta into her mouth and picked up her pencil, and began writing down some definition or date, and then closed her textbook, and pulled out another one.

"Time for math." She said as she flipped through her spiral to a blank page, and began writing down a problem. I continued to stare at my half-finished essay.(If numbers can be taken apart and shifted into new meanings, and it seems that words and letters work the same...does this apply to everything.) I felt a little dizzy, and I glanced down at the problem she was working on. Her short, slender index finger punched numbers into the calculator.(Nine.)

"The answer is nine." I said, and turned grabbed the fork to get some pasta for myself before her bottomless pit of a stomach devoured it all. Then I picked up the remote, which had been lying dormant on the floor for some time now, and turned on the t.v. The local news was on, and images of a fire covered the screen.

"St. Athen's, a facility for the mentally disabled, caught fire today. Firefighters have only just arrived on the scene. From what we know, there are at least two dozen residents still trapped insi-" She was interupted by the crashing of the roof as the building's frame gave way and it collapsed in on itself.

"Hey, that's right. It is nine. How'd you know?"

"Oh, uh, lucky guess." She then looked up at the t.v.

"Jesus. That's St. Athen's isn't it? The place for the retards?"

"Not anymore. They said at least a hundred people are still in that."

"Do you ever get the feeling that God doesn't care? I mean, look at this." I did. I was.(Fire.Heat...death? God?)

"I mean, I really think he just forgot about us.Like, he's too busy making another, better world that he doesn't remember where we are."

"That's impossible." I said.

"Why?"

"If God forgot about us, we wouldn't exist.If there is a God, then the only reason we do exist is because he knows we do. If he forgot, we would all just...stop, i guess. Does that make any sense?" I asked. She nodded, and took another mouthful of pasta, then continued crunching numbers into that calculator.

I picked up my own notebook and flipped it open to an almost blank page:

Hidden amiss the half-eaten decay, lay the stairwell.

Was written on the first line.(When the hell did I write this?) I skipped down two more and wrote this:

All things are formulated interpretations of another. Without other's, they hold very little meaning. When combined, they contain an image that is not entirely whole, but relevant. Three without six means nothing to nine. Six is nothing without three and three. Can reality be defined in these terms? Could you deconstruct what is seen and heard by the individual stimulations of the senses? What is reality other than the images created in our mind by external stimulation? Is there external stimulation? What if...

I stop writing because my head feels light again. I look around, and see the tv, my girlfriend, the table, the pasta, the books, God, the ceiling fan, the lightbulb....(A pattern? A connection? six and three are nine. All these things together are....?)

"Baby, are you okay?"

"What? Yeah. Just thinking."

"Okay. What are you writing?"

"Just working on my essay for English."

"I love you"

"I love you more." I say with a smile, and kiss her on the cheek.(All things, connected... bigger pattern is what? God?) Looking around, I see everything, and start thinking that if everything is connected, then the bigger pattern must be God. Or at least what we call God. And our reality is just him broken down into managable parts.(Does this apply to time.)

I blinked, and it felt like my body did a backflip while sitting still, and I looked at my watch.(Is that pasta done yet?) I looked up to see the digital screen on the microwave flashing: END. Slowly, I move from the living room into the kitchen.

The refrigerator's handle is metal and cold. I open it to see a few items, very few of which could be considered edible.(I could heat up some pasta. Six plus three equals nine. Why the hell am I thinking about that?) I remove the container from the fridge, and put it in the microwave. Before I can enter in a time, the clock on the microwave catches my eye: 6:35.(Maria should be here soon. I hope she doesn't make me help her with her math homework. Unless the problems are like...six plus three or something like that.)

I go to the living room and look out the window to see if her car has made it to my street yet. Three blocks down, I can see the smoldering remains of a building.(Poor bastards. St. Athen's never had a chance.)

I don't see her, so I sit down and start my essay.'So you think you're pretty?' is the first sentence, and I don't feel like moving any farther than that. So I flip open my notebook and start writing:

Half eaten amiss the decay, lay the stairs.

My stomach growls and clenches with hunger(I can wait until she gets here.Pasta in the fridge? I think...)

eggo · 11-03-2005, 11:06 PM

Welcome Lightfoot,

The story was different. Time was folded in on itself again and again. It was written cleanly and had very few mistakes. Even though it was by nature disjointed it was surprisingly smooth.

as to crit,

Quote:

picked up my own notebook and flipped it open to an almost blank page:

Hidden amiss the half-eaten decay, lay the stairwell.

Was written on the first line.(When the hell did I write this?) I skipped down two more and wrote this:

I would consider putting,Hidden amiss the half-eaten decay, lay the stairwell. in italics to bring out that is a written section you were refering to. It makes it smoother.

Quote:

The refrigerator's handle is metal and cold, and I open it to see a few items, even fewer of which are edible.

This is a bit cumbersome. Consider,
The refrigerator's handle is metal and cold. I open it to see a few items, very few of which could be considered edible.
Maybe?
lay=lie

Quote:

I then turn my gaze on the upon the objects on the other side of the coffee table: a green pen, a American History textbook, and an open spiral covered in notes.

Extra words here.

Quote:

"St. Athen's, A facility for the mentally disabled, caught fire today.

Caps= a facility

blackflip=backflip

smouldering=smoldering

I will leave you with this thought. It was very hard to place the age of the girlfreind here. She was driving a car, but her math homework included 3+6=9.
This gave her a problem later in the story. This is second grade math. Even though its intrinsic to the story, I would change it to something a bit more challenging.

Some very nice moments in this story. I look forward to reading more of your work.

Thanks

LIGHTFOOT · 11-04-2005, 03:13 AM

Thanks for pointing out a few of the grammar mistakes. For some odd reason I wrote this in Notepad instead of Word, so I was without spellcheck. Hopefully, I will have addressed these minor problems by the time you read this.

I did not know I could use Italics here. Maybe I should have taken the time to look up.Hehe. On my computer, I did put those parts in Italics, but when I copy/pasted the document, it didn't transfer them, so I just figured It wouldn't let me.

About the girlfriends homework. If you're looking for an age, it's around 19. They are doing college level math. I never actually said that the problem she was working on was six plus three equals nine. It was just what he was thinking about. And nine was just the answer he guessed. Later on, when time starts jumping around, he wishes that it would be second grade math. If that part was really that confusing, then i'll have to look over and see if there is any way to clear it up.

Thanks for reading. And commenting. Actually, now that I know I can use italics, then there is something else I should be able to post relatively soon.

Thanks for the comments, and if anyone else feels like sharing their opinions, then feel free to do so. After all, that is what this place is here for. Right?

ThatSmokingGuy · 11-04-2005, 04:20 AM

I liked it. Very Donnie Darko. I'm not sure where you might go with this because you leave it kind of just circling and spinning in the ether, but I found it quite intriguing as is. One thing I will say is I'm not a big fan of straight, empty dialogue, like:

"blah blah"

"blah blah blah"

"blah blah"

I always think it sounds better to have little bits of information tacked on the end, if only a few words:

"blah blah" she said, smiling.
I laughed and replied "blah blah", taking a sip of coke.

etc. etc. Just seems to flow better.
But that's personal preference and it was really cool nonetheless.

LIGHTFOOT · 11-04-2005, 04:41 AM

thanks for reading. I too prefer dialogue that ends with some information or an action, but it isn't necessary, and in this case I was lazy and thought I'd let it be.

As for the direction of the piece, that's it. It's a finished product as far as I know. I just wanted to see what it was like if I dismantled time and space. The store sets a chronological order, and the character finds the pattern and unconciously phases from one point to point. Ex: The time shifts, the movement of the fire from downtown somewhere to on his street.

When I think about, there is something else I've been working on that would benefit from this time/space distortioning.

Thanks for liking it? Any other critiques? Comment? Gifts they want to send me?

LIGHTFOOT · 11-07-2005, 02:00 AM

Okay, so no gifts. Comments anyone?

eggo · 11-07-2005, 08:09 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by LIGHTFOOT

Okay, so no gifts. Comments anyone?

Yea,

you may want to review some other peoples work here. We are all writers and would always appreciate a review of our work.

Thats pretty much how this place works.

A Glass Thought · 11-08-2005, 05:46 PM

I really liked this. The way time became inconsistent when he started viewing it in different parts.(that's what's happening, isn't it?) Reminded me alot of Dhalgren, by Samuel Delany. If you haven't read it you should.Great book.

Mean · 11-09-2005, 08:33 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by LIGHTFOOT

Half eaten amiss the decay, lay the stairs.

amiss = amidst or amid?

LIGHTFOOT · 11-09-2005, 02:20 PM

It is "amiss." I didn't write it, the character did, so it's his mistake to correct.

But, correctly spelled it would be amidst.

gohn67 · 11-10-2005, 12:29 AM

Hey LightFoot,
I read this twice and liked it. Seemed like the whole story was told backwards basically, I've thought about doing something similar, like Memento, but it's hard to make it work storywise. You did a good job of keeping my interest to the end, with a sort of philosiphical type plot , I guess.

Quote:

(If numbers can be taken apart and shifted into new meanings, and it seems that words and letters work the same...does this apply to everything.)

Like this line to me explains what this story is about.

I liked the stuff in paranthesis, found those thoughts entertaining for some reason.

Mean · 11-10-2005, 02:02 PM

Ah HAH. Interesting.