C4 antho - Chamber Four
C4 antho - Chamber Four C4 antho - Chamber Four
~282~ The Chamber Four Fiction Anthology payments. Our work suffers. We have been warned. One of us is fired. The other begins to smoke. Smoke marijuana. Smoke opium. It is not the first time. The other drinks beaujolais. Syrah and malbec. Has an affair. Why try and hide it? There is significant evidence. We have an argument. It is not the first. There was some intercourse. Intercourse at a motel. One of us slept. The one at the motel. The other was awake. The one is well-rested. The one slept for hours. There was also some intercourse. But that’s not the point. The one is wellrested. The one feels good. The other resents the sleeping. More than the intercourse. The other wants to punish the one. Wants the one to feel worse. Worse than the other. Wants the one to sleep poorly. Wants the one to lie on the bed. Lie awake. Wants the one to lie with anyone but the other. To lie on the bed. Wants to punish anyone. Wants to witness the one suffering. Wants to fall asleep to cries for mercy. The punishment is conceptual. The other will lie on a couch. The one on another. No one lies on the bed. We lie in separate rooms. Still we are not sleeping well. We lie awake. We contemplate separation. We would move out of the house. Neither would take the bed. Not the one. Not the other. One or the other would take the late payments. The bed would remain in its room. Alone. Independent. Enduring. The bed invincible. The bed victorious. The bed will not separate. Never. The bed will remain whole. The bed will remain. Immovable. Immutable. Ineluctable. The bed is unity. We see this from the doorway. It counsels reunification. We kneel before the bed. We stand before the bed. We reconcile on the bed. But we do not sleep. We are not sleeping well. The bed is unmoved. The bed is redoubtable. The bed is impenetrable. The bed is impregnable. The bed is a fortress. The bed is a bastion. The bed is virginal. As if we have never laid upon it. As if the bed is a concept that we conceived together. As if our imagination had begotten a bed. A bed that is greater than us.
The Abjection ~283~ Celibate. More severe. More unforgiving. More rigorous than us. That chastises us for our flaws. Our sins and our foibles. We are exposed by the bed. We are humiliated. We are refused. We are rejected by the bed. We are driven out. We beg to return. We watch it from the doorway. We long to be restored. We abase ourselves. We lie on the floor. We lie like animals. Like vertebrates. We lie like invertebrates. We lie like crash victims. Victims of an attack. Sufferers of disease. We lie like the living and like the dead. These attitudes are conceptual. Our suffering exceeds us. We are seeking a form. One that does not yet exist. Our representations are avant garde. The bed is bounded by traditions. It refuses to recognize. Its ways are esoteric. The bed is inscrutable. Its intentions are ambiguous. We lie in its shadow. The bed is not reassuring. We doubt it will protect us. The shadow is conceptual. We feel it in the dark. As if the bed would collapse on us. Like a failed civilization. We feel it teeming with plots and assassinations. We submit ourselves. What else can we do? We crawl underneath it. Our hair is there. Things lost and forgotten. Signs of a past we cannot recognize. A body ornament. A utensil. A shard of pottery. A garment made of wool. A page of text and numerals. A calendar. A figurine. A weapon. It is close. The bed. It rests on us. It compresses us. It is dark underneath. And inappropriate. And unsanitary. And there is something else. Something vaguely familiar. Something that is not me. Something moist that is panting. That is weeping.
- Page 231 and 232: The Next Thing on Benefit ~231~ Oka
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- Page 261 and 262: The Night Dentist ~261~ warmth that
- Page 263 and 264: Pool ~263~ really. She walked back
- Page 265 and 266: Pool ~265~ She put her hand on his
- Page 267 and 268: Pool ~267~ hatching eggs and the wo
- Page 269 and 270: Pool ~269~ Jon said, “Yeah, Darla
- Page 271 and 272: Pool ~271~ He said, “Right. I’l
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- Page 277 and 278: The Abjection ____________ by Micha
- Page 279 and 280: The Abjection ~279~ Murderous. As i
- Page 281: The Abjection ~281~ Corkscrews. Cat
- Page 285 and 286: American Subsidiary ~285~ “Nothin
- Page 287 and 288: American Subsidiary ~287~ Joseph he
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- Page 293 and 294: American Subsidiary ~293~ a full-on
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- Page 297 and 298: American Subsidiary ~297~ Herr Hals
- Page 299 and 300: American Subsidiary ~299~ Had anyon
- Page 301 and 302: American Subsidiary ~301~ “What a
- Page 303 and 304: American Subsidiary ~303~ Herr Hals
- Page 305 and 306: American Subsidiary ~305~ That was
- Page 307 and 308: taken workshops at the UCLA Extensi
- Page 309 and 310: Angie Lee (“Eupcaccia”) is an a
- Page 311 and 312: a care home. She divides her time b
The Abjection ~283~<br />
Celibate. More severe. More unforgiving. More rigorous than<br />
us. That chastises us for our flaws. Our sins and our foibles.<br />
We are exposed by the bed. We are humiliated. We are refused.<br />
We are rejected by the bed. We are driven out. We beg<br />
to return. We watch it from the doorway. We long to be restored.<br />
We abase ourselves. We lie on the floor. We lie like<br />
animals. Like vertebrates. We lie like invertebrates. We lie<br />
like crash victims. Victims of an attack. Sufferers of disease.<br />
We lie like the living and like the dead. These attitudes are<br />
conceptual. Our suffering exceeds us. We are seeking a form.<br />
One that does not yet exist. Our representations are avant<br />
garde. The bed is bounded by traditions. It refuses to recognize.<br />
Its ways are esoteric. The bed is inscrutable. Its intentions<br />
are ambiguous. We lie in its shadow. The bed is not<br />
reassuring. We doubt it will protect us. The shadow is conceptual.<br />
We feel it in the dark. As if the bed would collapse on us.<br />
Like a failed civilization. We feel it teeming with plots and assassinations.<br />
We submit ourselves. What else can we do? We<br />
crawl underneath it. Our hair is there. Things lost and forgotten.<br />
Signs of a past we cannot recognize. A body ornament. A<br />
utensil. A shard of pottery. A garment made of wool. A page<br />
of text and numerals. A calendar. A figurine. A weapon. It is<br />
close. The bed. It rests on us. It compresses us. It is dark underneath.<br />
And inappropriate. And unsanitary. And there is<br />
something else. Something vaguely familiar. Something that<br />
is not me. Something moist that is panting. That is weeping.
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