Welcome! This piece is twinned with another I wrote giving more general prose writing advice. This is the creative writing supplement to accompany that. “Rocks” is a few page-long monologue, centering around subjects of mundanity, escape, and especially hypocrisy. The story depends heavily on irony and subtext, but you should not need to analyze it to get the gist. Please do read and enjoy.
“Rocks”
Monday:
Sorry, can I tell you something? Yeah, you. I mean this isn’t a thing I do all the time—talk to random strangers. The traffic’s a little loud today.
My friend—he’s smart. He’s always the one talking about philosophical stuff. He likes to say that miserable people search for nothing more than further reasons to be down upon themselves. I figured it all out. I reckon not only is he right, but that disappointed people always long for more reasons to be displeased; conspiracists search for conspiracies; some people believe in that luck stuff. They cap everything they’ve already got with a nice weighted blanket. They’d like to think avoidantly that way.
That’s why I pay no attention to anything like that. You can call me a rock that feels nothing, or you can call me nonchalant, or whatever you want. But I suggest you don’t because it’s a bit hurtful. People like us deal with the same stuff all those other guys deal with, but we live despite the mundane—y’know. I stay far from the border line. Allowing yourself to fall into a bad position just comes from irrationality.
Why cover yourself with a weighted blanket when you can stick with the much more natural option of covering yourself with rocks—that’s the way I see the world. I changed my mind from before—you can call me a rock if you want.
I should introduce myself more completely, I guess. I don’t want to leave you hanging. Let me think of what I should tell you about myself…I really don’t have anything that comes to mind. Gee, it’s awkward, it’s like back in the day—first day of school. Our teacher made us do an ice-breaker. No one really knew what to say, so no one really said anything. I blame the activity. I’d rather have said nothing at all from the beginning. The teacher was cruel if anything for setting the expectations—don’t you think? She was the irrational one there.
You ask what grade this was? I can’t recall. Could be any one of them. It all looks the same after a while and it’s not my fault. It really isn’t.
This was a good talk and…if I see you again I’ll talk to you later. But I’ve really got to go now! It’s getting pretty late and I’ve got a lot of things to do. Responsibilities, huh?
Tuesday:
Oh! I didn’t realize it was you again. Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was too forward. I guess it’s great to see you, but I’ve really gotta get going with work.
What? You’re going this way too?
Oh, wow. I guess we could talk just a bit more if you really want.
I look familiar, you say? Don’t worry, I don’t take offense. A lot of people look like me. No, it’s really fine for you to say—it really makes sense! Don’t backtrack, be honest! Come on!
I’m walking fast? It’s because I’ve got somewhere to go, obviously. I don’t wander—and I’m not lost either. Like I said, I’ve got things waiting for me.
You want my name? Don’t write this down anywhere but…actually.
Yes, I know I was talking a lot last time, I was blabbering. Listen here: I don’t blabber.
Can’t I see that you’re trying to get to me? Of course I can see it. I don’t need to turn and look because I know you’re right behind me. Why don’t you ever tell me what you see? It’s always gotta be me, doesn’t it? Well I’ll tell you what I see! You can’t tell from back there that I’ve closed my eyes and I see nothing!
Ah!
Ah, I scraped my hands…I mean my hands are scraped. It’s the damn stone sidewalk. No, I’m fine—I can get up by myself. Oh, no. You don’t need to apologize, it was all me. All me. Oh, no. Don’t even trouble yourself with a band-aid. I’d just like to be left alone a little if that’s fine. I won’t be here in this spot tomorrow, by the way, just so you know. Work thing. I’ll leave you now. Bye. Goodbye.
Wednesday:
How do you keep finding me!? Oh, the cut? I didn’t find a band-aid yet, no; I don’t need yours though—don’t worry. It’ll fix itself—that’s what it does, that’s what it does. You brought something?
Err…Oh! It’s chocolate. Would it be fine if I tried one?…Thank you! Would I like to be your friend? I’ll need to think about that one for some time, sorry for the inconvenience. I don’t really have friends. Oh, you’re right…my friend’s scaffolding theory…I did mention that. Argh! Why do I blabber!? Well—he’s not really a “friend” per se, he’s more like an…amicable relation if you will. He’s “friends” with other people and he’s way closer to them than he is to me. I mean, it’s not like any of them dislike me—no. It’s just that I’m there sometimes and not at other times and it’s…really it’s nothing at all.
Maybe I only called him a “friend” because I liked his ideas, which was honestly pretty selfish of me. I should apologize. Sorry. From now on I promise I’ll be more consistent.
Ah! This chocolate is good. Where’d you find it? Oh, I haven’t been there in a while, probably since I was just a kid. I liked going back in the day though.
I’ll tell you one thing, though. I’m not unaware of the way I am.
Let’s cross the street actually, the sidewalk’s wider on that side.
Oh, I forgot where we were. That’s actually the school I went to with my relation. We used to always beg for them to install a swing set or a gaga pit or something like that, but they only did that after we’d made it to middle school. You can’t even be mad at that level of unluckiness, can you? And look there! See the top of that playground? One day, we were all jumping off the top and landing in the mulch, but I was too much of a scaredy-cat coward to get it done.
Actually, wait. I’m probably big enough now. Follow me. Come on, cross the mulch. It’s not that bad, you can do it! Right, now climb up to the top of the playplace with me! Right on the roof.
Don’t you feel so absolutely liberated up here! Look! You can see everything. You can see the street, the school building…everything you could possibly want! Oh God, I’m a little dizzy. I’m a little dizzy. Follow my lead—leap!
Did you see that landing?! Now you try! It’s so fun! Yes! Yes! That was awesome.
I…put it together sometime…recently…that I’ve lived my whole life in mundanity…so it’s enjoyable to do the things I never got to do! I guess you could call it a certain type of Nirvana that you could reach if you wanted to. Let me go up again.
Can you even hear me from down there? Ah! If you could come up and give me some more chocolate that’d be really nice.
Oh, we ate the last piece just earlier? Well—you can’t take me seriously, I guess.
Thursday:
I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve got so much to say. I felt guilty for not getting anything for you last time. Here, take this. It’s a little bit of obsidian I’ve had for some time. This piece actually fell off of a larger piece, but…I hope you enjoy it! I also was thinking a lot about what we were talking about yesterday and that reminded me of another story I want to tell you.
Let’s cross to the other side of the street again, I like that side better.
So I used…ah this is embarrassing. I used to really like this one person.
What, you don’t think that’s bad? You’re being nice. It is embarrassing. Do you ever see what happens to someone who has to deal with it? It makes you become more irrational than anything else does. I think that’s why no one ever wants to talk about it.
My…acquaintance…from before. He once asked me if I liked someone. I told him “no” because I didn’t want to be put in the type of situation that could come of it. You could call me paranoid or something like that if you want but…
Then he told me that he liked someone. I suddenly felt terribly inadequate and I can’t tell you why. Maybe it’s because I lied to my then-closest friend and realized that I didn’t have as much honesty as I thought I did—even for him. Or maybe it’s because I tried to convince myself I shouldn’t have liked the thing I liked, making me mundane. Ah, mundanity!
He asked her out—she was receptive. After the two got together, he and I never talked much anymore. It’s my fault. I said “no,” and she said “yes,” and why would anyone ever take that “no,” over that “yes.” That “no” from a liar.
I remember one day—one day after an endless, tired, dragging—our class was driving to our end-of-year celebration, and I happened to be in the car behind the two love-birds. Three people left the front car at a beautiful park: both the lovebirds and a third guy. Beautiful people they were—in a beautiful car. The couple posed for multiple pictures in different poses as the cameraman dangled his hands around like a paparazzi—right in the parking lot before me. “I’ll just take a few,” he kept saying. Again and again and again.
I waited behind the wheel. What offended me most was that the cameraman was so dedicated. I tell you for the past few years he’d been clinging on to my good acquaintance’s companionship and had become a kind of servant to him, if anything. He wasn’t like they were at all—just a sweaty, cloying parasite. I imagined myself in his position but it was so degrading I couldn’t stand it. But to him it was just mundanity. His spinelessness irked me, as much as the hot interior of the sedan where they’d trapped me.
But I have some of the pictures—still. Aren’t they pretty?
I spoke to the acquaintance a few more times as the school year withered off into summer. He only complained about the cameraman’s inadequacy. He said he could get no time to himself—that the cameraman knew he was upset and did nothing about it but take more beautiful pictures and brag and brag and brag about what beautiful pictures they were. It was damn miserable to be around, but at least one of them was honest.
I don’t remember much from the party itself, but the drive home was kind of somber. The moment I reached my bed, I crushed myself below my blanket and tried to fantasize once more. But I’d messed up again; I’d missed the mark. The longing had suddenly disappeared and I had nothing at all anymore.
God I felt bad. I felt so bad about it. But I told myself it was fine. It was fine, because the party was right before standardized testing. Soon enough neighbors would be demanding answers to other questions, and I could fall back to rationality. The answer was never “no.” Beautiful people, I say—they would ask me on a Mohs scale of 1-10 how hard the test was and if I remembered anything, and I’d tell them everything. I’d do everything for them like the goddamn cameraman. But they were beautiful pictures. The answers were correct. I was rational. I’m a rock. You can call me a rock.
Here’s what I’ll say: Be the last word at night—so much fun to be around. Just before you go home and get some sleep under the rocks or under the stars. It’s all well and good to me, and I can’t afford to care anymore.
Err, that was a lot. I’m sorry. Would you rather go and jump from the top of the playground again?
No? Oh, that’s fair enough. Really, it is. Will I see you tomorrow? I will, right?
Friday:
I’m sorry. I don’t know what else we can talk about—I said a lot. Maybe we could meet another day when it’s better?
Saturday:
The weather is nice again today, right?
Sunday:
I’m sorry for all the weird things I said before, I didn’t mean them.
Monday:
The traffic’s loud again today. I don’t want to ask much but if you ever see me again…never mind.
