on sound

An amazing bar scene, plush with purple and geometric shapes. Hanging chandeliers of pearlescent globs. It shifts to a warehouse club. It shifts again to the beach in very early morning. Damien looks with wonder. It's hard to recall which is which. Jared was always close by. Sometimes close to him, sometimes not.

“Dumb motherfucker. Why you acting all stupid. He don't care about you.”

He can't shut up. Damien shoved him hard against the plush purple walls. It's the only way to do it.

That agent should have cared about him. Damien's exactly what he represents. What did he find wrong? He starting making out with Jared. Middle of the Dancefloor. Yes, it shifted. Middle of the Dancefloor. Seemed like the go-go's joined. Seemed a dance routine broke out in the middle. Seemed a circle formed in the middle while they were working out. A gigantic beam of light in the center. Everybody was looking. But they kept making out. They were that kind of couple. Except they weren't a couple.

“Look, Jared, you just don't know how long I've been like this. I hear things and it doesn't reach me. My eyes blink, it doesn't register.”

“It's because you only think about the negative. Only that seems to register. That's your fucking problem.”

“Whatever dude. Whatever. Not even that registers.”

“Then what does motherfucker?”

“It's when people say nothing, that's what registers”

The ocean was saying a lot. It was saying, jesus christ we came a long way to hit the shores before fuckin homos arguing about nothing that's important. To them of course it sounded like the ocean how it usually does. It was pretty. Like a sea shell. Which have we heard first, the shell or the ocean?

Jared didn't say anything for a while.