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Imagine yourself if you will a space, a cube. If necessary retreat to the cigarette ash bordered pages of your high school geometry text-book. There will be a cube with line segments borders, some dotted, some solid. Points will differentiated by letters. Now step inside of the space. There is no detail for the blank white planes that make u this cube except the segments and points. There is now a figure in the vacuum that you must imagine. A stick figure. A two dimensional man with no face. No Muscles. No bones. No genitals so the word man is rather misleading but the English language has yet to correct outdated misogyny so “figure” will have to do for now. Just a Polygon for a head. This two-dimensional figure occupies this space. If need be think of the figures standing outside of public restrooms to encourage gender reinforcement.

What is the space? What has happened? In terms of plot nothing has occurred we have just created the space, but have we? The cube in fact does not exist but the phenomena of prose has created this space in a dimension commonly referred to as ideal. Now what words have helped create the space?

037762Observe: cube, line segments, Points, planes, vacuum.

Most likely the world you have fashioned is totally in black and white, because the words employed fall typically into the realm of mathematics, a space commonly devoid of extraneous detail. To the mathematician it does not matter if the segments are chartreuse or aquamarine. To him it is a space to be calculated or employed to reveal a truth concerning other similar spaces, but to the scholar of literature and language, each of these choices reveals something about the intent of the author.

There is now in this space a record player sitting on a Victorian table playing Harry Belafonte’s Jump in the Line. What is the 9781573449045color of the player? Of the table? Is there a Tablecloth? If so what color is it and does it have pictures of toucans? Now behind the figure there is a bookshelf filled with the same two books. The Ultimate Guide to Prostate Pleasure by Charlie Glickan PhD & Aislinn Emirzian and Plutarch’s Lives. What do these books speak about the figure? What kind of exterior decorations cover the bookshelf? Are there carvings or engravings?

The space has now assumed a new aesthetic due to these minor details.

What difference does this make to us? The figure enjoys Belafonte and ass-play. The figure, in actuality, is immaterial. What matters are the details we now choose to fill the space with. The segments are our border, they serve as the framework in the story. The details, the furniture, are the points at which the figure will interact.

The figure turned and flipped the song over changing the Song to Day-O. Shook its hips for a moment. Went to the bookshelf. Removed Plutarch’s Lives. Read the life of Alexander the Great. Suffered a heart attack and died.

What has occurred? The figure has moved about the space, interacted with the points, with the furniture and objects in the space, and completed the action. Now, while the space remains our attention is away from it because we have entered into that space known as theory. A rather up-its-own-ass-territory, but a territory nonetheless. Now suppose we move the figure in a different way.

The figure shattered the record removing instead its favorite Lady Gaga Record. Played Love Game over and over until it LoveGame_Singlerealized it had no one to dance with. It approached the bookshelf. Pulling back it pulled the books from the shelves ripping the pages all around the room. It fell into a ball and wept. It died.

Again, the figure has moved about the space, introducing new elements to the space, but never changing the space itself. We still find ourselves in the colorless vacuum in which our poorly fated figure remains fixed within the space. We must recognize then that if we consider Story as it exists in its metaphysical implications, it does not change. All that really occurs in any story is that figure will interact either with a) other figures introduced into the space or b) inanimate objects inserted to build the details of the space. Each detail becomes crucial, for if the central figure does not interact with it then another character must. Detail is what ultimately will build the space and flesh it out beyond our lifeless cube.

Now rather than simply observe the structure of storytelling, I want to examine a principle few artists ever truly attempt. What if there was an author that liberated the figure.

The figure listened to Jump in the Line when it noticed a corner where three segments that made up its world met. It approached the corner of the space. Recognized it’s limitations. Lifted the record player up above its head. Hurled the player at the plane. A shattering boom and the vacuum was ruptured. The player fell out into a voidless eternity the sound becoming an echo and disappearing entirely. The figure stepped out into the new world.

Where is the figure?

Does it exist in a new space, or has the figure assumed a new dimensional reality? Is it in a place we as storytellers can really go to? The total reality of story as we’ve experienced it is within the realm of the cube and that applies to every story ever told in the history of humanity. Never has there been an author willing or able to really describe what exists outside the realm of story. Why? Are we limited by a three-dimensional perceptions, or are we unwilling to step outside of the cube to truly observeharry-belafonte-jump-in-the-line-1961-2 what exists in the realm of possibilities. Imagine what stories might exist outside of the cube.

Are we able to fill this new plane with details? Can the figure stand firmly on the territory it encounters or will it plummet into a space where no reader or viewer may be able to comprehend and appreciate its struggle.

We stand, as of this writing, inside of the cube, staring out at the hole in the wall. Wondering. Considering. Dare we venture out into that new world and try new means of telling stories? Sharing our perception and recreations of reality.

The figure is a being lost. Molecules and electrons buzz in its skull like gnats with XM radio. Lady Gaga is playing millions upon trillions of feet below him, or else trapped in a bubble in a malleable surface that surrounds and protects details and figures such as itself. Perhaps it will be the belly of a whale. Perhaps a mother’s womb. Or worse. Clichés.

Whatever the case, what are we if we do not venture out and push outside of what we know. The evolution of our species, or our art necessitates a push. Lets push.

The figure stood staring out through the hole. Looked back into its cube. It’s hand-less appendage scratched it’s head. It stepped forward assuming a third dimension. It became a man, bare but the hair on his chest and head and groin. It took another step. It stopped. Looked back to its books. Approached the shelf and pulled one of the tomes down reading out loud. “So You’ve decided to give Prostate Play a Try.” He finished the book. Tucked it under his arm. Whooped as he dove out the window into an infinity of uncertain reality.