I have always loved stream-of-consciousness writing. Images from intimate moments and scenes from random places meld together in a collage of words that evoke a sense of many things happening at once.
Today I read an email that I received – clearly spam – where the spammer has unsuccessfully programmed a conversation-like email generating program that makes you think you’re getting a message from a friend. Well, to me, the result, although sheer gibberish, is sheer computerized literary genius, from a stream-of-consciousness perspective. Surreal. I am claiming it as my own work, since I have rescued it from the electronic garbage bin and am publishing it here. Consider it ‘found’ art. Enjoy!
That night we had our last dinner together at a seafood restaurant near Aloha Tower. Yuki didn’t talk much, and neither did I. I was sure I would drift off at any moment, mouth full of fried oysters, to join those skeletons in the attic. First, you have to tell me the truth. Did you honestly believe what I told you that time? Or were you just humoring me? Honestly, it’s the truth, I said. I don’t know, I said. They’re going to find out some time. So after doing your job here, you’ll take over the family business? I asked. Wait, one last thing. I guess you’ve been around all this time, except I haven’t seen you. Just your shadow everywhere. You’re just sort of always there. Is there anything I can do to help? I asked. All you have to do is wait,
I explained. Sit tight and wait for the right moment. Not try to change anything by force, just watch the drift of things. Make an effort to cast a fair eye on everything. If you do that, you just naturally know what to do. But everyone’s always too busy. They’re too talented, their schedules are too full. They’re too
interested in themselves to think about what’s fair. Well, okay then, lunchtime, announced Fisherman, soon as I hung up.