jedijetboy 
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Posts: 65
(8/25/01 8:57 pm)
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short stories inspired by Kafka
THE BALL ON CAMPUS
He climed the stone stairs up to the BYU campus becasue he was going to see if there were any interesting magazines or books at the BYU bookstore, and he didn't want to be in his apartment, because he watched too much TV there, and did nothing there, so he thought he would do nothing somewhere else, because he wanted to be gone, and he could look at the people up on campus (he wasn't a student) and there might be some pretty girls there. He walked between buildings, and near a sidewalk was a giant stone ball that had a plaque by it which said it was an ancient artifact from South America, 10,000 years ago, or something, and weighed some massive amount of pounds, and, the gold plaque said of the stone ball, which went up to above his knee, its' purpose was unknown. But he knew the purpose. It was a monument to boredom, and he thought it was almost funny it would be treated as if something great and mysterious, although, he noticed, nobody else stopped to look at it, or try to roll it away.
MOVING TO A BLANK SCREEN
It's hard, he thought, to go from the internet (and on the same computer) to a blank screen waiting to become un-blank with whatever words. Especially when on the same screen before, was a picture of a girl who was a celebrity, who sang, and under her picture was a report of a concert she gave, outside, in England, last weekend, three days ago, and the report said she was non-stop charisma, fed off the energy, and she made the rain go away. And when there is also a report of an acoustic performance she gave at a different tent, as part of the same music festival, that same weekend, and there's a picture of her (and she's very pretty) playing her guitar, and there's another web page that has a message board, and there is a controvery going on as to if it is really her who posted that message the other day, and, on the same screen, words come up instantly from far places like Isreal and Toronto, written by people who are also fans,(and there was a very beautiful message posted about her and her music that you didn't write and couldn't even think of) it is hard to go to a blank page, wanting to be filled with words that comre from you, when all you feel is empty.
It is also hard to sit in silence, wanteing to listen to music, but not wanting to put any music on, because not even music can fill you, not music or words, and if muisc is played then it would remind you that other music is being played elsewhere, and you're not there, and it's also hard to do anything but breath, because you have to, and wonder if you're crazy or not, because how can you tell?
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