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Transformed this, I think it's much better now. As always, all comments welcome, though stupidities are gernally disregarded.
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I’ll start with the title.
You fear what you don’t understand. They’re still playing games; it’s all a play, just look around: the audience is empty. Everyone’s sold their tickets for costumes. I tried to get off – couldn’t find the edge – give me an exit!
This is my crazy.
The fundamental genius of science is observation. Know your subjects: watch the stage. The players looked up to show that it’s snowing – Quick! Catch one on your tongue. Chase it, catch it, lick it, there’s no time to taste it. Just catch as many as you can!
– I watched as they all ran themselves into submissive frenzy, a mad Brownian movement. Catch as many as you can; that is success? This is crazy.
So they chase those transient snowflakes, falling and soaring with every drift. In their desperation, they see nothing else; just running in circles, not going anywhere. And so ironic: craving what they’re made of – couldn’t find snow in Siberia. They just run to catch up with the Sun while their spirit whispers away, dancing, like smoke into the midnight air … but when their sun sets, they’re simply out of breath.
And where were these snowflakes coming from? I looked up –
And tears came into my eyes,
And I wept.
Since then,
Time sails on blue skies.
Crisp, icy intimacy.
My little crazy.
In a shy darkness, a melancholic beauty approaches in the humid air; chills of awe course my spine… Is it the wine?
“Nice weather.”
No! Not just Kelvin and Joule having tea! Breathe in the air; it soothingly brushes your soul. See its beauty; hear its wisdom.
What use are snowflakes? Appreciate if they come, but it’s a waste to seek them out. How can you have peace of mind if you’ve spent your life’s time acquiring some snow? It may look pretty, but you’re just a burnt-out fag in the end. And when the sun comes, all your snow will melt, and you’ll be forced to look yourself in the eye.
You think I’m crazy?
Your crazy. I’ve still my ticket.
Look up before you die.
Un-focus your eyes, you’ll see:
You’ve completely missed the sky.
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The theme is a bit cliche as it is about the pursuit of capitalism at the expense of what is truly important, or whatever the trivial pursuit snowflakes is supposed to represent. The use of language is not all that imaginative, and comes across as striving to be poetical. The one idea worth saving out of this is the image of actors looking upwards to indicate snowfall. This very effectively communicates the theme of the poem, the mindless pursuit of something having little real value to the objective mind. This piece really communicates that you are a young writer, who initially believes he must be a genius. That's not how genius works, genius is the product of hard work and exceptional talent, and getting over the fact the most of the stuff you write, sucks at first. The faster that you can realize this the more quickly you will be on your way to writing good stuff.
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Very succinct analysis of the story, thanks for the good advice. I think I should just ditch the Freud paragraph altogether, it's useless, sounds juvenile and conveys the idea of getting at capitalism too much. I do like the metaphor of snowflakes though. I do entirely agree it strives to be poetic, I can't help it and it seems like the only thing worth writing.
Snowflakes represent any kind of easily gratifying pleasure, which often replaces the much more satisfying feeling given by creative cognitive effort.
One thing I've already convinced myself of is that I do not possess any genius, and that hard work has been the only thing keeping me going. Of course, the naive sense of I-know-everything is nevertheless there, but under a different form.
Once again, thanks for the observant analysis. Hope you write more.
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You're welcome. I always get terrible reviews of my stuff, and by terrible, I mean worthless. Most people don't know shit, or are forbidden by their manners to say anything hurtful.
I have to say this is not a short story. This is definitely a poem by the way it is written. I don't know that much about poetry, so that pretty much relegates me to specific criticism about the quality of the lines.
"Appreciate if they come, but it’s a waste to seek them out." This is the best line in the poem. It's an extremely specific description that feels true. You could almost apply this line to anything and it would sound profound.
I'd say the most marked feature of the rest of the lines are that you have no consistent word choice or tone; you're basically just choosing interesting words.
"Time sails on blue skies.
Crisp, icy intimacy.
My little crazy."
Is there any reason that time sails on blue skies? Is it really that strong of an image? Does it sound good rhythmically? Does it have an interesting logic or point of view? The answers are all no.
"Crisp" and "icy" go together but not "intimacy". The effect is neither ironic nor beautiful, it's just a jumble of mildly emotionally charged words. None of these words satisfy my conception of what the sky actually is like, or how it is being viewed by the poem. The poem gives no ideas to the reader about what this line is supposed to achieve.
"My little crazy." Huh?
There are no real over-arching style, narrative or logic choices made. More organization and purpose behind the word choice would go a long way.
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Perhaps what I'm trying to convey isn't well-met, but I spent time agonizing over every word. That the tone is inconsistent is possible ... I have to leave this story for a week and then come back to it.
The part you picked out is a haiku, and to me the best poetry in the story/poem. I originally didn't want to include it because it certainly breaks the flow of the story, but it fits too well not to put it in. The self-centeredness of the narrator (a form of alter-ego, I guess) is intentional; the rappel of craziness is definitely meant to be there.
The best kind of poetry, in my opinion, is that which acts on unconcious associations to evoke feelings. To me, that haiku is absolutely spot on.
The organization - not form - is carefully chosen; for better or worse, I obviously can't say. It is important to note this is a stream of consciousness over a longer period of time (years), and each part is in chronological order. This is the psychological evolution of a person as they struggle within society and eventually find a way out.
I do entirely agree though that this needs greater emphasis on form.
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EPT
