By Jeng Yang
It was on our tenth day, as we drove yet again to the desert, that our social expectations quickly wore thin, and our natural inclination for individualistic hedonism quickly took over. For me, of course, it was sooner than most; my attempts at socialization were after all, always only a farce. I had buried myself in an intriguing book by Doytevesky and Simon had emerged from his backpack with a Spanish-Dutch romance novel. I gazed outside, staring at yet another endless plain of bush forest, or was it grasslands, or temperate desert? It did not matter after all. I was more intrigued by the cloudy skies, the visage of its underbelly concealing the full range of its existence. The hidden behemoth that was the Australia cloud led me to the contemplations of the certainty of dimensional existences. To a God looking down, we must be very flat characters after all.
I lay my head upon a cushion and contemplate the vastness of things. I start with the scope of my physical existence, from the limits of my body, to the car, to the country, to the world, to the solar system, to the galaxy and finally to the vastness of the universe. I return quickly to the scope of my vision and feel tiny in comparison. I feel myself drained from the unimaginable existence of reality, paralyzed in a midst of cosmic uncertainty. A younger version of myself appears, I hear his voice, declaring this moment, in his own dramatic manner, to be mental masturbation. I find it difficult to focus on him over the sound of the vibrating motor underneath me. I lie in agonistical pleasure, a moment I quickly interrupt to immortalize in words. Everything recorded is something gained.