Imagination

 

I’ve been reading more Chuck Palahniuk lately, reading a few of his short stories from his short story collection Haunted. He is really a very unique writer who isn’t afraid to shy away from taboo subject matters in his works. The gruesome and incredibly descriptive short story “Guts”, accounting deadly sexual mishaps is a clear indication of his willingness to defy social boundaries. His cynical yet humorous attitude, similar to my own attitude, is something I also appreciate. As this blog in its current form will attempt to focus on dark and humorous content, Chuck Palahniuk is fitting.

I’m drawn to rebellious writers who aren’t afraid to pass boundaries and discuss potentially volatile subject manners. Part of this I think is the tendency of my imagination to play with such subjects. I was born in sheltered environment. For years, my mother and father placed stringent rules on what content I could or could not consume. Ratings of films, TV shows, and video games were taken seriously in my household. As I was the first child of five, my parents were especially cautious about what media they exposed me to. Yet, I found an escape through books. I read and read and read. And my imagination sought, and often found the unknown. The rebellious.  The bizarre. The blanks I knew no answers to were filled with imagination and speculation. Despite all that was in their power to censor, they could not touch my mind. A mind deprived is a mind depraved. On what areas I knew little, I imagined the worst.

It’s funny because, in real life, I don’t come across as some great rebel. I play by the rules, and try my best to fit the mold.  Yet, in the private life of my reading habits and my own mind, I am much more liberal and extreme. I let my thoughts wander. In fact, I am proud of this divergence. I think what is improper, rebellious, or bizarre because I can, and no one can stop me.

My private thoughts roam dark expansive fields, exploring territory I would never dare to speak of. They drift in the wind floating- darting-through the air with forces unknown to even myself. Without desire or need, I relinquish my existence and soar far into the depths of the unknown with no thoughts of my return. It is exhilarating to feel nothing, to need nothing, and to know nothing, but what is, and allow this to take you and push you forward.  To give in to all that is anything but yourself, but not care. And relax in ecstasy. Life constrains, but thoughts allow unhindered exploration.  

In many ways, the fences life places around you are for your own safety. They bind you. Control you. But ensure you do not err into dangerous territory. For thoughts uncensored are wild. Irrational. Erratic. And dangerous. So we must be wary of which thoughts we allow to give birth to actions. There’s a line between thoughts and reality that should be carefully monitored.

But this doesn’t stop me from fantasizing of a universe bereft of fences. I imagine clouds of smoke billowing out and up into the sky. Fences around fences around more fences, all ablaze in hungry, devouring flames. Joyful men in tears, bearing ashes in cupped palms chanting, fences no more. Fences no more.

But I know this is unrealistic. Fences stand. Always have and always will. Layer by layer, Strong and firm around me. Closing me in. Until I am nothing more than another broken soul. A lone speck of dust. In a universe that only wants to be the same. But I can dream.