News

Reflections

Evolution

Meditation

Adventures

Poetry

Stories

Mail Me

Happy birthday to me. It's morning (I'm sleepy), so I close my eyes. The train rocks me not-too-gently and David Bowie's in my ears, singing something close to a lullaby. Daddy sits beside me, reading silently from his blue hardcover Russian book.

Bowie and I drift into a drowsy conversation. Stay away from the future, back away from the past. It's all deranged-no control.

There's a flicker in the lighting that I see through my eyelids. First orange, then dark brown, and orange again. Now I hear tiny clicks and shuffles, as if a thousand mice were stampeding.

Suddenly-quiet, stillness. No normal train sounds, no hushed breathing. The air is thin with a lack of people.

Then, heavy angry metal music blasts through the speakers. I gasp and my eyes snap open. The music is a medley of The Birthday Party songs. It frames my view of the train:

"This is truuuueee…
Every inch of winning skin.
Scratch and scrape this heavenly body.
In-an-emotional-motion I swallow my
Motive of quicker location is slammed."

The train's brighter than usual. The seats are more orange and yellow, and there's a lot of glare from the metal.

Somebody laughs. Slowly, softly-sinister. I turn my head, and there's Bowie. Real and beautiful, not shimmery. It's the kind of beauty that just glows and oozes from inside.

He's angry, terrifying almost, in a dark flowing cloak and long blond hair that spills over his shoulders. He looks like he did in Labyrinth, but he's a better actor now. I blink, and the music changes to Bowie's "Diamond Dogs." The song comes screeching to life, and Bowie almost smiles.

He doesn't move, just watches me with bi-colored eyes. He wants me to speak first, but I'm scared-scared. His lips curl downward in annoyance.

I open my mouth; I want to speak. No sound-I'm too shy. What could I possibly find to say to Bowie? Now his face is dark, and he's lost his patience. Still, I can't say a word.

Come out of the garden, baby, you'll catch your death in the fog, Bowie says as the speakers play that part of the song. He doesn't really speak; I just sort of know what he's saying. I don't answer him.

Bowie stretches his arm slowly, curving his fingers the way a dancer would. I step forward and he withdraws the arm, then turns on his heel. The doors open as he approaches. He doesn't bother to check if I'm following. I shuffle after him, the doors catching and tearing the edge of my shirt as they slide shut.

There's a strange smell in the station, something like fish and dog sweat mixed together. I wrinkle my nose and take small, shallow breaths. The light is dim, and I can't quite figure out where it's coming from.

In the center, there's a deep gray staircase. There's a small blue sign on the side with white lettering. SUFFRAGETTE CITY, the sign shouts at me in neat capitals.

Bowie moves up the stairs, and I after him. Looking closer at the sign, I see a tiny note in black pinned against it. It says, Intrigueinometry treads my trail… Entriggering (dust dirt and) dense… Some letters are darker than others, and stand out. I try to see if they're spelling out anything special.

Bowie's at the top of the stairs, and I hurry to catch up with him. I want to ask him to wait, but I can't. He shrugs.

Day in-day out. Stay in-fade out, he says to me.

We move down the narrow filthy strip between the train tracks. There's something squishy swimming in the train track puddles. I shudder.

There's another staircase, with another sign. This one says K. WEST in white, and Life is a horror, in black, with darkened letters again.

Why are Bowie-related places named on the signs, and who's leaving those notes using The Birthday Party lyrics? Bowie probably knows-he even has a knowing look spread across his features, like a smirk. Again, I can't bring myself to say anything to him.

Up the staircase we go, Bowie and I. It smells like dog sweat and fish. At the end, I see a sign exactly like the first one. SUFFRAGETTE CITY and Intrigueinometry treads my trail… Entriggering (dust dirt and) dense…

What's going on? Is this the sign I saw before? My head is starting to spin. Bowie says nothing to me. He doesn't even care if I'm behind him

Up another staircase. K. WEST/ Life is a horror. I'm getting worried now. Where's Bowie taking me?

Up and up and up. SUFFRAGETTE CITY-K. WEST; SUFFRAGETTE CITY-K. WEST. Intrigueinometry treads my trail… Entriggering (dust dirt and) dense… - Life is a horror. On and on until I just want to stop and scream and get away.

Bowie stops and turns to face me. Somewhere on a higher level, I hear scuffling feet and hushed voices. A smooth white paper drifts down slowly to the floor beside me. Bowie waits quietly as I lean over to pick it up.

Life is a box full of dirt, the note says. No darkened letters this time.

Bowie smiles, spins around, and he's gone. Just like that, he's not there anymore. All the lights are fading now. Even the floor under me is shifting. It seems to cave in, forming a big pit. I lean against a wall to keep my footing. Right before the lights go out completely, I see that the room has become U-shaped.

A smell like fresh soil fills the air. I'm alone in a U-shaped place smelling of dirt. Alone. And blind, too. I can't even see my hands in front of me.

Some help Bowie was.

I panic, and take a step forward. Wait. What if I fall off the edge, onto the train tracks? Better to stay in one place. Come on, deep breath. Calm.

I'm so alone. I clutch at the not in my hand because it's my last evidence of reality-the last proof that there had been someone with me here. Of course, my hands are sweaty and the note slips out from in between my fingers. I can't find it anymore.

There's such an emptiness inside me, like a thousand nothings all scrunched together in the middle of my stomach. It hurts like fear. The darkness helps it grow. It's getting bigger even now.

There's an emptiness outside, too. I can feel it coming. It smells like dirt. It's going to grip me in its dirty claws and swallow me whole, into its big soil belly.

I scream, and my legs get weak. I sink slowly to the ground, bringing my knees up to my chest. I link my fingertips around my shins, and cry. And then-

And then the lights go back on. The dirt smell is gone, and even the emptiness is pushed back a bit. I see another note at my feet, but I don't want to read it. It's going to be bad, I'm sure. There's nothing good at all in this horrible place. I look at the note anyway,

My mind is a monster drive insane, it tells me.

I just want to go home.

I look up, and Bowie's there. His face is dark, and he looks so mad. What does he want from me? Why can't I go home?

Never let me down, he says, sneering. Sarcastic. Behind him, a thousand voices start a chant in that nasty, sarcastic way. Never let me down-Never let me down-Never let me down. Over and over. I cover my ears with my hands, but I still hear the voices.

Queen bitch, Bowie whispers. A thousand more voices take up that chant.

Telling lies, he says. More voices, more chants. It's a horribly, three-part harmony. Bowie starts chanting too, alternating the three lines.

This chaos is killing me, I tell myself. My mind is a monster driven insane.

There's a loud, rumbling sound now. It's a train approaching. The bright headlights dance along the walls as the train gets closer. The voices chant louder. They're all around me, now.

The train is almost here. I can see my escape. Not home, but at least away. I know how to be free.

I take a breath, and run at the edge of the walking strip. I fall onto the train tracks. Everything's in slow motion. Bright, bright headlights coming closer. The train is coming, the train is here. Silence.