The Blogger (Pt.5)
Richard opens the door.
“Hi, my name is Cindy. I’m here for Richard the Blogger”.
With a smile on his face he lets Cindy in the house, he seem to have been waiting for this day.
“Okay. So? Aaaaaah…………..” as he sits down on a white small couch near a glass table.
“Yeah I’m here because I got your email the other day saying you were in the interview I asked for, so I’m here to ask few question to prepare you before we can star on the real interview because some of the people I interviewed before did not like some questions I asked.” As she takes out the scripts from the brown leathered folder.
He leans to the front and stares at the papers.
“Are those questions for the interview?”
She smiles and looks at him as he stares at the on the papers.
“No! this are only possible questions, but there are some which are compulsory at the interview like for an example where you are born and stuff, so no need to about the number of questions because I think they are shorter than you think. Smiles as she hands over the questions to Richard.
Takes the scripts.
“So how long will it take because I will be having some other appointments would have to go to. And again why interview me as there are far more people interesting out there?” he asks as he stops staring at the papers and looks into Cindy’s eyes past her glasses.
“Well, I can say that I’m influenced by history not necessarily talent, no offense but I think you are good. The thing is you right things different and you seems to attract certain type of audience with you, so knowing your past and how it is related to the vague and obscure complexity of your writings which cannot be understood on sight only but requires lots of readings in your type of art and which I can say it is very great because only people who can write in this type of a way are very introverted and have a thing with communicating without a need or a clear reason.”
He sits straight back and looks at her and it seems he is thinking about something disturbing.
“So now you are taking some kind of a psych test on me because it seems like you only care about what I feel and think when I write this stories, depending on the way some other people who had mental disorders that did write similar things to my work. Yes you might be right yet again be wrong about my psychological state but I want you to know this I’m not sick I write I feel to write and it has nothing to do with my past or present……….”
She interrupts him.
“Sorry, I did not mean it like that. I just wanted to say that there some fascinating writers out there whom can think like anyone and me at some point fate has lead me to you because it seems like you can do the exact things I’m mentioning, thinking like a killer or homeless person and etc.”
He Stands and put the scripts on the table. He walks to the television as he turns it on he take a keyboard. The screen seem to be connected with a personal computer and he goes to the folder written “The Pleasure of a mad man”, this folder has videos within it and he plays one from the folder.
The video shows a man walking on the street with no sight of any building or trees within it, it a dark place where a soul cannot withstand. The man in black walked on the road with no expectation of arriving anywhere, the harmonic sound made by the piano at the background fit the picture so well. Cindy seems compelled by the video, the emotionless face looking at the screen and need to find peace with her own mind about what this man is feeling. She forgets to take a breath and now nothing matters but the man on-screen, she forgets about everything she know and becomes a heart of the man on the screen and she reasons with her soul to what she feeling, suddenly the tear runs down the chick to the increasing tempo of the piano.
She wipes the tear away and looks at Richard.
And Richard stares at the screen. “This is what we are in the darkest hours our lives and this times come regularly than the blissful days, it is not about what you see but it’s about how you feel when you when you see, touch, and smell things. Art is about been being taken back to the day you felt with your heart and it’s about understanding the message, even a crazy unstable man can tell the best story. I will ask you is this is the story you want the cries of the heart or the state of being?”
While she looks at him she replies “So what’s your story?”
He then put the scripts on the table as Cindy is sitting at the other opposing couch, he looks at her again.
“Well there is always a beginning in each story but often we worry about how it is going to end, this is not a story to say there is a conclusion because I believe we are on this planet to be part of the system not to be with a greater purpose than that. The thing is we are not Gods or kings we are part of mutating existence, we need reasons to live because we are self-aware but some other species don’t need a reason because they got instinct to survive, but us the people we need more than that we need love, friendship, power and belief that our death is worth something in the end. We fear oblivion we fear to be forgotten by existence itself.”
Cindy focusing on him. “So you say there are no God or no God?”
He answers “I believe that we have different views on the existence and since there is no proof of non-existence to God I can say it is possible that God exists, even more than possible just that we believe in the different types of God’s.”
She takes the scripts and put them in the folder.
“I think we should discuss on the stories you wrote not what we are discussing now”.
He stands turns off the TV.
“Well I thought you needed a start and I gave you one because I write what I write from these perspectives, and you people looking at it differently makes me wonder who understands me out there, because I blog what I think and believe and the stories are there to show that there are various views and beliefs out there and some don’t even express this site of them. This is my story.”
End of Part 5.