As you might be able to tell by the title of this blog post, I’ve been having trouble writing today. I’m in sort of a “wake the fuck up” phase of my life where I’m trying to push myself to my full potential and really take advantage of every day blah blah blah. Anyway, for me right now, that involves a lot of writing. I’ve never been much of a writer, but, and this isn’t a joke, the heavily increased amount of rap I’ve been listening to is making me feel nauseous about not creating (as a side effect, I also have less respect for women). I’ve been doing a rap-only month with my friend, Tyler and somehow I naturally started writing raps. A LOT of raps. Maybe I’ll upload an mp3 compilation later.
Anyway, today I’m stuck and Dan Harmon, the creator/head writer on Community, blogged some advice for people in my position. He suggested that I just write. Write anything. Write a piece of shit and prove to myself how much I suck at writing right now, so that’s what I’m going to do! So, fair warning… this story might (probably will) suck. I’m going to begin by getting a random article from wikipedia and using the title as my title inspiration. Here we go…
Seaview, Washington
by Jake Link
I’ve always known, really, that I would end up back in Seaview. I just didn’t think it would be this soon. It feels like yesterday that I left home with big dreams and headed to L.A. Los Angeles was exactly what I thought it would be. Lots of pretentious assholes, lots more gays, and a lot less rain. I probably still carried an umbrella with me for that entire first month before I was secure enough to leave it at home. Of course, the day I left it at home, it poured. I remember it was a big day. I was finally getting the chance to show some of my sketches to a fashion designer in Beverly Hills. The strap on my folio was loose, so I wanted to use both hands to hold it, ensuring nothing would fall out and get ruined or wrinkled. In my cab to Bev Hills, which I could barely afford, it started to rain. No, it started to pour, to swallow the earth, it seemed. I knew it was a long shot, but as my chest filled with anxiety, I asked the cabbie if he happened to have an umbrella on him. Nope. As I started to try to stuff my folio under my clothes for an embarrassing run, I heard the cabbie. “What the…”. I looked up and saw a bright blue light reaching over the hills. It wasn’t broad like the sun. It was huge, but focussed, like a giant spotlight. For a moment, I thought maybe it was some glamorous and incredibly over-the-top event. Of course, as we know now, I was wrong.
The rain stopped so quickly that I almost screamed. Rain that heavy… just ceasing immediately. It was so… unnatural. Or unfamiliar. It was like I wanted to cry, but I held it together. For a while. Then, we heard the noise. I guess it was more like a feeling in your ears than a noise… like standing right next to a giant bass speaker, but not actually hearing anything. The important thing is that it fucking hurt. The cabbie passed out almost immediately. All the cars on the road were completely stopped by this point. I got out of the cab and covered my ears, walking back towards my neighborhood in L.A. Where else was I gonna go, right? As I walked, I noticed the “sound” became more bearable for me. Eventually, I couldn’t feel it at all, but others were still screaming in pain. Then I remembered Claire.
I met Claire at a bar a couple of nights before. To me, she was a big deal because she was attractive and willing to make out with me. I guess this might not be a huge deal to a lot of guys, but as an aspiring fashion designer, I was having some trouble getting laid. By girls, that is. I know it’s weird that the first person I thought to call in what turned out to be a national crisis was some chick I met at the bar. I don’t have justification or anything to make me seem less lame, but I’ll just say that we had a serious connection. Please don’t feel bad for me, but I’ve never felt so comfortable and so… the opposite of depressed as I did with Claire. I called her phone. No answer. It’s my personality to assume the worst. I was envisioning her in a ditch somewhere, screaming in pain, or maybe her car crashed when the noise started and she had been killed instantly. I probably called 30 more times as I walked back towards downtown L.A. The entire time, the screaming never stopped. I swear, it sounded like Los Angeles was a giant soccer stadium. I went back to my apartment and had my first chance to mourn the loss of my big fashion opportunity. I was devastated. More devastated by that than by whatever the fuck was going on outside. I didn’t feel a connection to those people. Except Claire. I called her 6 or 8 more times before she picked up. She asked why I was calling her. I told her it was just to make sure she was okay and there was a long pause. I could tell by her ability to speak to me on the phone that the “sound” wasn’t affecting her. Maybe it had stopped. She told me she was going to leave L.A. I didn’t ask any questions. I just got in my roommates car and went to meet her downtown.
She was standing on the corner we agreed to meet at and she looked stunning. Even prettier than she looked at the bar through my half-drunk eyes. She was wearing a dress and heels. That’s one of the perks about L.A. As I stopped by the corner, she jumped in quickly and said, “hurry.” I noticed a couple of men running from behind the car. Looking back, I guess they were probably just looking for a way out of L.A. like we were, but of course, I couldn’t risk it. I sped away from the city. As we left, I noticed for the first time that there were bodies on the sides of the road. Not dead bodies, but people, very much awake, rolling in pain. I knew there was nothing I could do and for some reason I felt more annoyed at them than sympathetic. Just being honest.
I don’t think we spoke for 15 minutes. At least, nothing I can remember. Then she asked, “So where are we going?” “Seaview, Washington”, I told her. “No way!” She said it so loud that I jumped a little. I remember feeling embarrassed. “I was born in Seaview!” “I’m from Seaview!” I told her. I learned that her parents had moved out of Washington shortly after she was born, but I did know a couple of her distant relatives. When we arrived around 2am, there was a gate blocking the main road into my town. The gate had never been there before. Before I could even try to figure out how to open it, it swung open for us. It began to close immediately after we passed, so I knew someone must have been operating it manually. We went to my parents’ house to see if we could find anything on the news about the incident. My parents said they didn’t know anything about it. They were certainly thrilled and probably surprised that I had brought a girl home. Claire knew all the right things to say. She was perfect. If I hadn’t already fallen in love with her during the drive to Seaview, I fell in love with her then. I flipped through the news stations on the TV. Nothing at all about LA. I googled it. Nothing. There was absolutely NO coverage. I felt like I was on the Truman show or something and that the universe had played a huge prank on me. Claire remembered it, but didn’t seem interested in discussing it at all. She was just so… happy. And so was I. That night, my parents insisted Claire and I share a bed, probably trying to force me to prove that I’m straight. I wasn’t planning on it, really, but I had sex with Claire that night. Twice. Not even just sex. I know it sounds cheesy, but we “made love” I guess. It wasn’t anonymous fucking. It was passionate and emotional. It was the most needy sex I’ve ever had, but that was okay. We were completely connected.
The next morning, I had almost forgotten about the incident. I did another fruitless internet search. Claire changed the subject whenever I brought it up. My dad offered me some work in his restaurant. Claire worked there, too. Eventually, we got a place together and we became Seaviewans again. I might have mentioned the incident once every 6 or 8 months, but it was pretty much forgotten. Then, I tried to leave Seaview. Claire begged me not to. It was strange. It was like she was begging me not to go to war. I got to the big gate in the road, which now more closely resembled a concrete dam. It was totally silent there. I threw a rock over the wall and didn’t hear it land. I threw a larger rock. No sound of it crashing on the other side. I felt an incredible sensation that I was huge. I felt giant. And important. Like a movie star or politician or artist, but more significant. I felt like a god. I realized that something world-changing happened that day that Claire and I first returned to Seaview and now this is it. There isn’t L.A. There isn’t America. There’s only me and about 8,000 other people. There is just Seaview.
