Ultimate Reality

I invented the perfect girl for me around five years ago but was too afraid to write about

her. In the end I did and I call her Jane, now anonymous girl. She reminds me of the woman I

met at space camp, smart, funny, above all a real good friend. She is actually something that I

have been thinking about for a long time. I wrote about her because the women I know are bad

inspiration, everything felt like an imaginary person. I honestly couldn’t focus on their beauty,

their personality, anything except when I jack off. Jane is my inspiration for all my lead females,

be it comic books, poetry, or movies. This is an imaginary story about an imaginary girl and the

rest is off a philosophy course I took maybe two years ago.

Ah a new day. While John was stepping to the rhythm of the hall a pre-ordered release

prophecy was soon to arrive. His entire life had evolved towards this moment for some reason

and he was to become enlightened. Pacing, in a manner appearing to mimic a sloth he paused at a

sign. It seemed conjured by God but tweaked by the devil as a bonus track. An infinite and

omnipresent society norm that a force such as an inebriated singers voice forced on only him

harshly but he had no clue as to the truth.

Reminiscence reminded him it was of a past teacher. A Mr. Johnson. A little too conjunct,

studied at Harvard and low volumed by the entourage to be the best emcee at the institution. He

taught philosophy, mostly dead white guys, and his rap was engraved on the memorial. It was the

same song for over 40 years. He aged and exited with an unexpected crescendo. He killed

himself. Shot himself on a hill. Rumored to be the student’s staccato.

Imposing it was. The plaque spanned three periods and said, MATTER CAN NEITHER
BE CREATED NOR DESTROYED. Almost all who left his class agreed, most in perfect tune

with key flowing like water through the cracks. They had the most intellectual arguments on

campus, Multi-layered track with emotion, cracking jokes those outside of the inner circle could

not have understood, and playing off each other with their secret resonating but appealingly

muted.

What was this grand secret so few heard clearly? Was it the melody of life? The harmony

of our existence? Why was there only a sign and no sentimental memorial to a man who spent

his life supposedly freeing young minds? Can it be that it was all so simple then? Had he helped

them embrace a revolution or was his class just amazing in terms of interesting?

John was amazed by the plaque when a young woman walked up to him appearing to

have a hidden purpose. She seemed an ill omen but her beauty echoed through the hall appearing

to have rung the bell. She smiled. What men do when beautiful women curve their lips? He knew

he wanted to be the reason she smiled. Like most men John was taught never to trust the opposite

sex and as with most men she had him anyway.

Kindly, politely, gently, she introduced herself: “Hey, name’s Jane and you“?

Half rest he was a tad bit paranoid, “John”.

“Know what that means”, she pointed.

“That matter is not creatable and indestructible,” he spoke too staccato.

She broke it to him the way we all wish it was given to us when we receive our come-up-

ance. “You a solopsist, never mind, ever hear of David Hume.“

He used only two notes, “No what did he say.”

She looked like she knew that he was caught in the strange pit some call a teenage

wasteland and she was what he needed at the right time. Like a nervous record player she kept on
playing. “He said this universe may be god.” She tried to hide her rise but it hit like danger

across her face.

Whole rest! He thought, beautiful, simply beautiful but nonsense just blasted through his

speaker. It had happened before and he gave up easily but this time he pried like an irrational

artist going for the great gig in the sky. “Tell me more.”

She smiled like the sun rising over a field of brilliant green grass. A siren’s song was her

smile. Then she said “he also said that there’s no cause and effect chain.” She had hope for him

and she understood his hopelessness while to her he represented a new beat.

John then believed her controlled by the crowd. He told her he knew there was a chain

hoping to see her lips curve again. “I grab my dick with my right hand, and I flush the stall with

my left hand, and I push the button when I don’t wanna touch nothing’, I let go when I wanna get

goin, Chain! He stood paused, proudly waiting for her to laugh.

She tried not to embarrass him too loudly and said, “um … yeah.” Something muted

them. The silence to him said she was triumphant. To her it said you must learn. She broke the

silence with a whole note. “I know you believe nothing’s your fault and love your obviously

clever immaturity but listen: Hume is what you’re following and there are others.”

He emitted an interested pedal steel sneer then said, “who?” the only words he could tap

out.

She was electric. Her face lit up like the nighttime sky while camping, “Aquinas can

actually “prove” the existence of god and Spinoza says god is all. Pantheism which is similar to

Hume but a different sentiment. She was searching for a truce when he had just started to Blaze

battle.

“God,” the walls echoed as if his daily troubles were the arrival of Yoko Ono with the
Beatles. “God can’t exist.”

“See Hume,” She was hypnotic. “Okay one more, names Kant. Our minds impose

categories on the world around us, what’s real to you and we should act as if our behavior will

influence the universe.” She speaks, “ultimate reality is about what’s absolute.” She stretched

out a mic cord to shelter him, softly saying, “find what’s real to you.”

He tripped away mad, she walked away smiling. He felt like a green ear being trained. He

knew life was nothing to fuck with, that we had no control, and he knew he was mad. He went to

see his friends

Baker was Scoring with the clouds. Paul was nodding away to some new CD. Jenny was

trying to get Paul’s attention rubbing secretly close. Gabriel was no longer interested at all and

they all found him fake. This is how their conversation went. John asked Paul what he’s listening

to and Paul said nothing much basically. Then they all swore to be amazing procrastinators when

it came to homework, even though Baker was a straight A student. They all hated class, even

though Jenny was afraid to be late. They all wanted to smoke weed right then. John thought

about taking a philosophy course but he was scared witless to show any initiative. So they

entered the 36 Chambers!

Mr. Johnson chicken strutted down the hall, “I have my lesson.” He strode through the

hall like he had been given a lease to rock halfway eager to teach his first class. He arrives 10

minutes delayed but almost all students are there, no smile. “Hello class … matter can neither be

destroyed nor created.” A young girl trots out of the room and she cannot look back. She is

terrified of what the world really is. She is crying, alligator tears are coming through her speaker.

She metaphorically sings belting out, “but I like god.” Johnson purposely chuckled then while

she was listening in the distance said, “God they’ll do away with him someday.” Double bar line
marks end.