Simon Says

Posted on June 30, 2009

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“LET’S PLAY A GAME OF SIMON SAYS.”

Simon® says,“Read this sentence.”

Simon® says,“slow things down, take a minute to jump out of your regular pace, just chill.”

Simon® says, “I have something to tell you.”

We all listen to Simon®. Simon® has oiled skin and a firm, well-defined jaw. Simon’s® hair falls in loops down to his shoulders like smoke dipped in bronze. I am in love with Simon®, and I know this before he has even looked at me. I want him to look at me. Simon® has black eyes, Persian eyes, the eyes of a man who can hunt in the darkness.

Simon® says, “You are alone in this world. You are in a storm that has always been. You have only ever known the rain and its coldness. You know nothing of real warmth. Everyone you have met is under this rain. Everybody talks in stories of a place that is dry. They speak of a sky that does not pour down but rather one that shines upon you. Everyone speaks of the sun.”

Simon® isn’t wearing a shirt. Simon® is holding an apple between his fingers, but it is clear it isn’t for eating. My hands are shaking, my hands have always been shaking. I feel so dirty as I look at Simon®, I feel like I need to be clean.

Simon® says, “Because of the myth of the sun, the entire world is sad. Because of the idea that you can be something different, that you can escape the very nature of the world that bore you- everyone is truly sad. Some people in the rain smile and some of them even talk about being in love, but deep down every one of them is in pain.”

Simon® places the apple on his head. Simon® balances it perfectly as if it were an extension of his brain.
“You can never escape the wilderness,” Simon® says. “So stop pretending. There is nothing but what there has always been.”

As I stare at Simon®, I imagine standing up and taking the apple off of his head. I imagine eating the apple, not because I am hungry but because I just want to feel its juice, I want to possess something that Simon® has possessed. He is a celebrity and I want to be a part of his light.

Simon® says, “Stand up.”

Simon® says, “Walk forward.” He says, “keep your head up.”

Simon® points to a spot in the horizon, a small structure that is but a mere speck at the edge of your vision.

Simon® says, “there.”

We stand and walk toward the structure, we do not ask questions along the way. Simon® leads us, his black leather boots fall rhythmically on the grid of the dirt road. He does not look left or right or back at us once. He simply moves forward.

We walk long upon the road and we are all tired, though none of us dares to show it. I can sense the pain of our collective muscles throbbing, but I also sense I wonderful desire. Everyone is so hopeful.
It is a new emotion.

We come to a small opening in the path and the valley seems to rise all around us parting only for the structure which is now much more than a speck of gray but rather a great door laying upon the ground. The door is an acre wide and twice as long. As we reach it I realize it is not laying in the ground, but rather it is embedded. It is a door to the underground.

“Open the door.”

Simon® points to me, his eyes finding my eyes for the first time. My mouth hangs wide open and the clouds seem to stop overhead in the sky. I can feel his pointing finger on me although he stands fifteen yards away. His eyes take me inside of him and I feel I can do only his bidding.

I place my hands on the door and I wrap my fingers around the small knob. It is oddly placed upon the massive wooden frame of the door. The knob fits perfectly within my grip.

Simon® says, “when he pulls this open, everything beautiful and true will come forth.”

“What don’t you open it yourself,” a voice says, the voice of a woman. She is not one of us though when Simon® looks at her it appears as if he knows her. A wry smile covers Simon’s® face.

“Open it, now!” Simon® says.

I

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Posted in: June 2009