Friday, April 8, 2016

Abandoned Project From Years Ago


The Secret and Subtle Art of Human Flight
by William Eglinton
with Nikola Tesla


Special thanks to Samuel without whom
The albeit limited publication of this book
 would not have been possible.


  Man’s journeys into the skies have long been recorded through myth and legend, religious lore, and more recently various sciences. With the scientific breakthroughs of the brothers Wright, humanity finds itself at a crossroads; it is possible that never again will man take to the skies unaided by science and technology. The largely secret nature of human transvection is still marred by the slanderous words of critics and cynics.
  This treatise will cover the nature of flight from human physical and mental ability alone.


  Elliot lifts his head from the page and glances around the room. Empty. He looks at the first and last page of the book for a price. There isn’t one. He scans the room again, unsure of why such an obviously rare and out of place book would be on the Russian Classics shelf. He knows he won’t be able to pay for it if the shopkeep is made aware of it.   He slides the book in his jacket. Bells crash. He nearly screams in surprise. He looks around. It was only the door. He tries to casually leaves the store. The door closes behind him. Bells crash and ring. Adrenaline lifts his stomach.


  The appropriate mental state is required for the slightest levitation or the highest flight. One must be mentally in tune with their vessel and the environment around them.

       
  Marie-Claire. Yes, I have the name of a women’s magazine about more than pretty faces. I guess you could say, I am something like that as well. I am a spark, a flame, a conflagration.
  Indeed.


  In the pursuit of flight one must take great care not to damage the fragile nature of the laws of the universe. When attempting to fly, one follows laws, one does not break them, to break them could cause a multitude of destructive problems.


  Elliot is sitting with Jane on an ugly couch in a coffee shop. The book is in her hands, she’s leafing through it. Elliot’s thoughts are elsewhere.
  “Her boyfriend died.”
  “No,” Jane keeps her eyes and fingers in the book.
  “She told me he’s dead though.”
  “Dead to her, I guess. She explained it to me once and I actually agree.”
  “What did she say?” Jane is distracted, maybe on purpose. “Jane, what did she say?”
  “Sorry…she said: It's worse than if someone dies, because you know they are
out there,
living an entire life,
separate from you, it's like they chose to be dead to you, rather, chose for
you
to be dead
to them.”
  “Yea, I guess that does make sense.”


II


  In preparation for one’s first forays into flight, a physical and mental regimen must be undertaken to prevent damage to oneself. Lunges and chin-ups, as well as an hour of meditation daily are strongly recommended. Flexibility is key, as well as two thirty-minute periods of inverse hanging per day.


  Elliot hangs suspended from a bar in his doorframe, he’s wearing red, chakra matching, boxer-briefs. His phone rings from the floor below. He answers it.
  -What are you doing?
  “I’m hanging upside down.”
  -Why would anyone ever do that?
  “I’m trying to train for something.”
  -And hanging upside down is the training?
  “It is a part of it.”
  -Hahaha. I have to go, are you coming to this party tonight?
  “I imagine I’ll make an appearance.”
  -Oh, and what is this training for?
  “Flight.”
  -Hahaha, that book is ridiculous. Bye.
  He sets down the phone and begins humming the Aum.


  Push up from the balls of the feet. Bend at the knees. Lean forward. Hold. Slowly stand. Repeat.


    I’m going to some party and keeping all my valuables in this big disgusting leather purse, some wrapped in plastic. I’ve got my gloves in my pocket, they’re thin, but warm. I want to get drunk, but not too soon. I’ll nick a bottle and save the empty for another day.
  I’ll drink it dry after.


III


  I am sitting at this table, it’s kind of rickety and Elliot and Jane are talking about something, but I’m not listening. My knees are rocking back and forth, towards and away from each other. They are restless, anxious knees.    I’ve got two bottles in my purse. I have two dangerous and beautiful bottles in my purse. One is full. The other is mostly full.
  Everyone has cancer, everyone is going to get cancer. I might have cancer now, in my uterus, or my cervix or ovaries. My Baba died from cancer in there somewhere. Baba Yaga, hahahaha. I’ve accidentally listened to their conversation, I know the tale. I heard it from my dead Baba. I’m leaving.

  “Ok, so you ever heard about this guy,
Koschei the Deathless?”
  “Hahaha, no. Why would something like that ever have been put into my brain?”
  “Ok, then, I’ll tell you. It’s really badass.”
  “Go for it.”
  “So, Koschei is this guy, who can’t die. He’s old and ugly and gross and a lecher and all this. He’s tormenting young women and doing away with their boyfriends and husbands and all that. He’s mean and nasty and cruel and has been alive for a really long time. So he’s probably had sex with thousands if not tens of thousands of women. Although probably none of them enjoyed it, well at least not most of them.”
  “Sounds disgusting.”
  “He rides this great reddish horse around naked and has a big sword, and he’ll just cut whoever up. No big deal.”
  “Yup, disgusting, is this going somewhere?”
  “Yes…Well, recently some drunk pilot was flying over the Atlantic towards Russia. And everyone on the plane died.”
  “Jesus, does this go somewhere good?”
  “Yes, yes. They couldn’t find the plane. They were getting a strong signal though, like the plane was floating or near the surface, but they couldn’t see it, or any wreckage.”
  “Weird.”
  “Yea, I know right. So anyway, they sent boats to look too. And one of the boats ran aground on nothing, so they sent divers, and the divers fell onto ground. And after walking a certain distance, an island appeared to the divers, and the divers disappeared to the observers.”
  “Hahaha, that’s a lie. That didn’t happen.”
  “It did. And it only gets more intense. They found the plane, everyone disappeared, no trace of anyone.”
  “No fucking way.”
  “The plane had run aground and split mostly to pieces. The nose had struck this huge oak tree and uprooted it. Under the tree was a big iron chest.”
  He paused.
  “Well? What’s the significance of that?”
  “The soul
of Koschei The Deathless
resides
in a needle,
inside an egg,
inside a duck,
inside a hare,
inside an Iron chest
under a mighty Oak on a
disappearing island.”
  “You’re sure about them finding this chest, it’s not hearsay?”
  “It’s all over the internet, news, all that kind of shit.”
  “Have they opened it?”
  “They’re having a really hard time.”
  “You’re fucking with me.”
  “I’m fucking with you.”
  “You’re fucking with me?”
  “No.”


  Unfold upward until the toes are all that remains on the ground. One must fully extend themself. One must feel the lightness in their entire body, the airy new addition, the freedom. This movement and thought must be repeated until even the toes have left the ground. And then, flight can begin.


  I am freezing my ass off. I look good though. Almost like a disguise, a way to blend in by kind of standing out. This skirt is really short. These heels are so fucking uncomfortable. I’m looking for something expensive, something opulent. There it is…

  The party is full but not crowded; a familiar crowd, a neighborhood community. There is a guitar playing on the porch. A pipe is being passed around. Elliot leans against the wooden railing. Jane is standing in front of him looking up at him.
  “Where did Marie-Claire go?”
  “I think she went home or something,” Jane responds, “She mentioned something, I wasn’t really listening. She’s been acting funny lately.” Elliot sighs and lights a cigarette, passing it to Jane. Elliot lights one for himself.
  “Fuck. Is she just being ridiculous?”
  “Meaning what?”
  “This dead-alive-ex-boyfriend thing.”
  “I don’t know. Like we talked about the other day, I understand it, to a point.”
  “Still, he’s gone, what’s the draw of obsessing still.”
  “I guess when you’re that connected, have spent that much time, sacrificed or given so much of yourself to someone. It doesn’t fade easily.”
  “When did he leave? Why did he leave?”
  “About a year ago. He moved, I think he wanted to change his life, Peace Corps. or become a monk or some shit.”
  “I guess it’s hard to follow someone like that. I don’t know, she’s clearly shown some interest it’s just confusing me so much, so frustrating. She kisses me, she doesn’t answer my calls, she comes over at night, she doesn’t let me come over. Feels like I’m living that Offspring song, Self Esteem, you know? Haha.”
  “She’s still fucking crazy, I guess. Seems more stable than she used to be at least.”
  “More stable now? Jesus Christ. And wow, you said fucking. I’m impressed.”


  One must move their center of gravity up and forward starting with the head and chest. While floating or even with toes on the ground one should attempt to put their torso horizontal to the ground. Then work on bringing their legs horizontal to the ground as well. Falling is a possibility, but one must be fearless. Whether inches or feet from the ground, keep fear from the mind. One must not attempt to brace themselves with their arms or hands. Float, and become comfortable in the almost transcendent space that lies even centimeters from the soil.


  It’s a shiny BMW coupe, silver, brand new; they have a temporary license plate in the back windshield. This is perfect.
  I like to think about this invention. The Finnish used it to disable Russian tanks in the Winter War. They gave it its name because it was a drink to go with the Molotov Bread Baskets. Molotov said Russia was dropping food. Russia was dropping cluster bombs. So they gave it that name…Molotov Cocktail.
  I am nervous now though. Nervous like those moments before the first time you have sex with someone.


IV



  Jane is sitting on the toilet, lid closed, dabbing tears from her eyes. She has her key in the little ziplock of coke, waiting for her tears to slow so she can feel better.

  Elliot is almost staring at a girl who reminds him of Marie-Claire. She is very thin with long brown hair that looks a little unhealthy, hair the opposite of Marie-Claire’s. She’s wearing a long loose skirt, something Marie-Claire never wears. She is mostly “flat chested”, not like Marie-Claire. Something about her, her attitude maybe, and she is still very pretty in an almost mousey kind of way. Elliot doesn’t know what it is, but decides to go talk to her. He grabs two beers from the cooler near him and walks over.

  Jane is dipping the key in and pulling it out, over and over. She is chuckling. She is thinking of Fun Dip. She is snorting, one nostril, then the other, over and over.

  Her name is Candice. Elliot has noticed her slowly moving closer and closer as he makes jokes about people who walk four or five dogs at once. He doesn’t know how he even got onto this topic, but it’s working, apparently. Elliot is indignant, fueled by a pretty new girl…Fuck Marie-Claire if she wants to be all crazy.

  Jane is laying in the unfilled tub, masturbating with her clothes on. She just had the urge and couldn’t stop. She’s never wanted to cum more in her life. Someone bangs on the bathroom door.

  “So are you going to kiss me?” Candice asks. Elliot moves toward her and puts his arms around her hips, leaning down and into her kissing her. She kisses well, and is very sexual, pushing herself toward him, her hands on his neck and face, in his hair. They are in the middle of the narrow street, in front of her house, or where she’s staying, her sister’s apartment.
  “You really have to go?”
  “Yes, my sister will flip her lid if I don’t get in soon, we are leaving in the morning.”
  “Can I stay?”
  “Hahaha, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
  “Hmmm, alright, I won’t press it.”
  “Don’t think I don’t want you to stay…it’s just…”
  “What?”
  “I’m 17.”
  “Fucking shit.”
  “Sorry for not telling you earlier. But I turn 18 next month and am going to be in town and, well, I want to fuck your brains out.”
  “Hahahahaha, ok, you have my number, call me whenever.”
  “I will. Kiss me again.”


V


  I set the bottle underneath the car, casually, like I’ve dropped something. My heart is beating in my ears. It always does at times like this. I stand up and light my cigarette. I smoke a few drags and tear off the filter. I place the cigarette’s unlit end in the rag, it needs to be at an angle where the ash will fall, and shielded from wind or something, it needs to burn slowly and steadily. I stand up as a car drives by and pretend I’m readjusting my skirt, pulling it up a little, then down. I move the cigarette again. Perfect. I light another cigarette as I walk away.

  Jane opens the door. The party is dead. It’s late. Elliot is standing there, exasperated.
  “What the fuck?”
  “What?” She says innocently.
  “Have you been in here the whole time?”
  “I wanted to give you time with that girl.” There’s venom in her voice.
  “What is that supposed to mean?”
  “Nothing.”
  “You’ve got white shit on your nose.” Jane turns to the mirror and cleans her nose with a finger, rubbing it on her gums. She snorts and looks in her nose.
  “Jesus Christ, can I come in?” She walks back from the door. Elliot enters and closes it. He remains facing the door and puts his head against it.
  “What do you want?”
  “Are you mad at me?”
  “I don’t know.
  “Can I have a line?”
  “Sure.” Elliot sits on the toilet and pulls out his ID. Jane dumps some from the little bag onto it and begins cutting it with her ID. She turns and digs in her purse for a bill, rolling it up. She hands it to him.
  “I’ve had a
fucked
up
night.”

  Elliot is walking back to the party. He’s unable to hide the stupid grin on his face. His phone vibrates in his pocket.
  “Hi there, 17.”
  -I just wanted to call and say goodnight, and I can’t wait until I see you again.
  “Neither can I.”
  -Goodnight.
  “Night.”
  There is a flash underneath a car up the street. Then an explosion, a boom, fire shooting out from underneath the car, climbing up the sides. The alarm sounds. He falls down onto the balls of his feet. The fire is spreading over the car, the alarm blaring, other car alarms joining it. He stays crouched. He can’t move his eyes. Half the car is covered in flames, the sound of a window breaking. Smoke is pouring into the sky. He doesn’t know how long he’s been there. He begins to stand, and rises up on his toes. He feels light. He has never felt this way. He closes his eyes. It’s euphoric.


VI


  The first instance in which one levitates often causes loss of consciousness. This euphoria will exist every time one takes flight, but can be managed.

  It started with a trash can in 10th grade, in the girl’s bathroom. I don’t know why I did it. I just did, and loved it. And got away with it. They cancelled classes. The busses came early and picked us up. I just tossed in a match and walked out. And all that, from such a little thing. Like birth almost. I am at home with the bottle of vodka, drinking it from a rocks glass. Half the bottle is gone. I don’t want to get up. I’m feeling the afterglow. I don’t want to do anything but sit here. I just want to feel this forever. I finish what’s left and pour another glass, spilling.

  Elliot and Jane are sitting on the bathroom floor, laughing, cutting up lines for each other. Elliot is unspeakably glad that Jane has calmed down. There hasn’t been any sound from outside for a long time. Jane’s probably just too high to care.
  “So, do you really believe this Koschei shit?”
  “You said shit again, too funny.”
  “Shutup, do you?” She breathes hard with one nostril closed. “I mean, do you really believe it?”
  “I don’t know. I guess I want to. I don’t know if I do.”
  “Do you believe in that book you found?” She hands him his ID with a line on it. He pauses and looks at nothing.
  “Do you?”
  “Yes…”
  “That’s cool, I like that. I wonder what it’s like to fly.” He does the line and lays his hands down on his lap.
  “It’s like breathing.”
  “Haha, you know? You’ve flown?”
  “I don’t know. A lot of strange things happened tonight.”
  Jane slides in close to Elliot. Their faces are very close.
  “There’s going to be more.”



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