Artistic Credibility

Artistic Credibility

A Story by Daniel Kivlehan
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How does one gain it?

"

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She walked across the ocean and watched the stars descend into darkness.

Her mind bounced in pure joy as she connected with what she thought she had lost: the awe inspiring ability to connect with something that is so natural, so pure, so smooth and just so 

warming.

The idea that every single spec of that that shining supernova is part of her, of us

is pure comfort.

The fact that this overwhelming beauty is all we have to have...

Is life.

A thought concealed within everyone of us: to celebrate what we see, to define our own visual perfection.

She takes one step into the everlasting light and lets it hold her.

Embrace her very soul.

Open up her systematic mind into a world of free thought

A world of energetic imagination

A world of “Fantasy-

Pure fantasy , girl wake up don’t you f*****g dare be late” The dulled rhythmic clicking of the stained mechanical train brought her out of her world of ecstasy into a world of bleak darkness.

“You have a report due in tomorrow and if you think I’m doing it you are so f*****g wrong”

She tended to ignore the important messages around her �" how boring. And focused on her mind rather than their world. Maybe if she finally realised that she would find out who she-

“JESUS CHIRST GET OFF OF THE TRAIN”

Another abrupt end (she hated those).

She fell off of her seat into the pouring metropolitan rain.

The pink neon building towered above London’s unfaltering night sky with the resolution of a lawyer and grimaced down at her braving the assault.

She had no umbrella and by the time she helplessly stumbled (read: walked) to the building she had become part of nature’s stream and acted accordingly.

*BZZZZZR* went the noise of the broken hairdryer at least attempting to evaporate nature from her drenched hair.

“Babe you really need to sort that mess out; especially if you want this job” Secretary , cleaner administrative counci- no she had forgotten already; how pathetically typical, the superior woman beside her just wouldn’t stop buzzing �" chirping maybe, no she was no bird although maybe she is a swan trapped in the proverbial cage. (The woman leaves the room after the other woman with the just #awful hair would not acknowledge her) Maybe she could free her and teach her to be strong, wait, strong? I could never be strong look at me. She shot a broken stare into the clean mirror and winced �" Why does everything so artificial have to hurt so much? She ran her absent minded hand down the side of her face over her rough scar plastered on her tender skin. Just another glass night...

WHERE DID SHE GO!?

Mind racing

Panic stricken

The delusions again??

No way she was here I saw her

The clock spun endlessly

‘Time is just perception’

This haze attacked her very consciousness and would not release and until she could not realise

What is real?

The mirror shattered �" Was it me?

Alarms ringing a sorrowful song

Shouting �" blurred voices in a darkened corridor

“GET OUT NOW”

?

She turned into nothing, nothing cant exist yet here it was gleaming in raped pride.

“From the darkness comes light”

 

He sits there and systematically checks his watch watching his daughter day dream, the train rattles on through the darkened city and he pulls out his usual paper- right on time. He waits until he feels the train stop two times before pulling down the statistics page of Britain’s economy and attempting to wake her up.

“Wake up from your dream darling.” He said to his daughter yet she looked at him as if he had cursed, why this was he had no idea and he then watched her fall back into what he liked to call her ‘Artistic State’. Sometimes he worried because these states used to cause hallucinations and the like but that had stopped a long time ago. She had a job interview today and he had to make sure she finally did something with her life.

“You have a job interview now and you can’t sit it tomorrow so come on and wake up” Again the strange look of misplaced contempt, this annoyed me slightly so I said in a rather loud tone which in retrospect probably wasn’t the best idea: “JESUS CHRIST GET OFF OF THE TRAIN”. As soon as she ran off the train crying he knew he had taken it too far- At least it wasn’t raining.

I sat there watching this new chick rattle of about nature and to be honest didn’t really listen. I MEAN LOOK AT HER HAIR. So pathetic these types were �" oh I’m attractive and have it all but my life is restricted artistically. Oh please I can play that game all day �" she’s probably single �" poor b***h. I could see by the way she worked the hair dryer that this girl had no clue how look good to herself, watching her struggle with the brand new hair dryer was a good gift for a bad day. I mean why the f**k is she drying hair that’s dry anyway. I pointed at a calendar on the wall and explained that she needed to look good if she wanted to be a model like on the calendars. It was a good joke lol but I’m not sure she got it and just gave me that absent minded expression coupled with abject terror. I started listing beauty tips and she just wasn’t listening- I took a quick pic of her and reblogged it #awful. Then I was gone to y’ know actually work.

Sitting in the old security control room me and me mate larry was watching this new bird lose it , job stress I guess then CRASH f**k me I nearly fell out the chair as I saw the old mirror shatter with a violent scream. I ran down as soon as I could and saw her attempting to carve the glass into her un-scarred face. Why was she doing this over just a job? I had no idea and just tried to get her out. I remember saying to her that out of everything bad there comes some good then just waited for her old man to come up.

Artistic Credibility

 

© 2014 Daniel Kivlehan


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Added on January 1, 2014
Last Updated on January 1, 2014
Tags: Neon, Art, Philosophy, Perception, Modernist

Author

Daniel Kivlehan
Daniel Kivlehan

London, Essex, United Kingdom



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