want a sense of what goes on in my head all the time?

[grinninfoole]

Here's something I haven't ever shared with anyone (inspired by solstyce); the way my mind wanders more or less constantly.

Today, riding the express to UMass, I took out my book to read a bit more. I didn't even crack it open, however, because I was caught by a passing fancy. Normally, I would simply forget something like this by now, but because of a sudden urge to write it down to share with y'all, here it is.

I started thinking about war in Iraq, and some articles I read in Newsweek by former Viet Nam soliders about their experiences, and about the fact that perhaps a quarter of soldiers in a fight don't actually fire their weapons. I imagined myself as a soldier in viet nam, suddenly confronting an NVA soldier at close quarters as a fire fight raged around us. Both of us are startled. Neither of us shoots. We stare at each other for a bit, then I offer him a cigarette (which I am carrying because I know other people value them--even in fantasy I don't smoke.) We hunker down together, share the cigarette, a chocolate bar, and some booze that he's got. (I don't care for that, either.) I point to my chest and say "Mike". He points to his and says "Fu Yao" (which sounds Chinese, rather than Vietnamese even to my untrained ear--which makes it as inappropriate as having him say "Bill Jones". But whatever.)

Anyway, the sounds of battle subside, so I hand him the cigarettes and head back towards my side (which, in stark contrast with reality, I am confident I will find with ease--and rightly so).

Then, my character (and at this point, I start to think of him as such) starts writing letters, which he doesn't send, to Fu Yao. They run something like

Dear Fu Yao,

I was in a big fight yesterday near Ba Lam (again, random syllables. Ap Lam would be better.). I shot some people in a stand of trees. I couldn't see them very well. I hope you weren't one of them. I hope none of them were your friends or family. I'd really like to go home.

Comments

[filthyassistant.livejournal.com]

I found this very poignant, esp. the last line. (Which doesn't address the issue you bring up, I know.) I have these moments all the time, especially when I'm riding the busses. Or trying to sleep. Or crunching numbers at work... ahem...

[-solstyce-.livejournal.com]

i'm glad i inspired you to share something about yourself. it feels nice to do it, and it's nice to see others getting more comfortable doing so as well. what's a journal if you can't speak candidly, you know? :)

[grinninfoole.livejournal.com]

I had another one later in the afternoon, a really elaborate one about a terrorist nuclear attack on Boston. There were a lot of scenes--going through my address book and crossing people out, mixed with shots of their mangled and burned corpses, a wake here in Hamp, prowling the wreckage, refugees swamping the town, a cloud of fallout getting blown out to sea, driving with you up to Maine to find your brother. It just goes on and on, all the time. I can't even recall most of what went on, but the dialogue, cinematography and soundtrack were absolutely perfect. If I could have put it on a movie screen, everyone in the theater would have wept. If I can only concentrate enough to write one of them down....

[millari.livejournal.com]

As I said to you earlier in person, this is why you are destined to write stories. I can't wait to read them.