A Short Story, Sans Punctuation

SINKING SHIPS

When the boat began to tilt I was worried xenophobic and briefly sad but shortly thereafter I panicked in thought only and then went into the routine of putting on my survival suit and helping where I could but there was no thinking of what I was doing as though my body no longer needed synaptic instructions

It was not good for me to realize this as if thinking about not thinking made my actions more difficult my arms heavier and my eyes weary like the way what seems to be a perfect meditation is ruined by an erection and when this happened longing set in

My feet chafed against the thick rubbery interior of the suit where were the plastic bags why were there no bags in the feet they were supposed to be there to help my feet slide in and why was our boat sinking what irresponsible move had been made and were there no other boats around to help us

They could not because the tide was too fast and the sandbar too near and no ships could get in now and briefly again I thought of something that perhaps I could stand on the sand bar but then I knew that the tide ripped faster here than anywhere in the world a fact which I relayed proudly before to friends and family because after all what is a creative writing major doing fishing in Alaska but trying to experience something unknowable to nearly everyone and thinking that war is necessary for a writer but wars are so much sadder than they used to be and this could have replaced war but only had I survived

It did not seem that I would live as the boat now lay forty five degrees to the water and continued to tilt still further quickly but seeming slow

My attention shifted again and my body returned to autopilot and I thought of first times of various things from my first sad sexual encounter to the first time I met my wife and the first time I realized that family is a good thing and how good it was to know new friends like me in some ways but also different in good ways

Then I felt like Icarus and began to feel queasy from flying to high beyond where I could reasonably reach

I had thought I could write like someone great

I believed that I needed this but war is overrated

Despite what Hemmingway said

It was beyond me though and still I am waiting to hit the water but at least I made it high enough so that it will feel like concrete and I will bleed everything into the sea