LEGO Bioshock Infinite: Songbird
Created by Imagine Rigney
On display at Chicago Brickworld 2013
The not-so-complicated relationship between Robert Downey Jr. and caffeine.“It’s Friday evening, and we’re all in a side room at a restaurant in Santa Monica … And every few minutes the (box-office) estimates go up … And I’m going crazy because I’ve had 25 Cokes and three cappuccinos.” (x)
When I first started drinking coffee, I abhorred the taste. Every day a battle waged itself on my tongue, the eternal struggle between flavor and lucidity. In order to to combat it, I equipped my troops with sugar encrusted battle axes and the gods of Lucerne rained 2% from the sky to make difficult the bean’s bitter tread. At the end they all washed away towards the pit of my stomach, one hundred percent casualty rate. The war itself ended in attrition; as dark waves beat against the walls for too long. Now, I relish in a milky drought; cooled are the crystal smith’s forge coals. Now, the foreign invader I call friend.
Our conversation’s orbit turned around the sun of our comfort, just like it always use to, with calculated chit chat set firm by the mathematical consistency of history. I admitted though, “It’s been a while”. “Yeah it has”, she said.
But, as far as we could see across the space between us, everything was fine. I told her how good the wife was and she conveyed the joys of single life. She painted me her apartment, I, my house, and l can tell you her brush strokes were much finer, so much so they flowed in motion. After a while, her world took form and spun stable on its axis, and it evolved since the last time I took note. I didn’t tell her about my trip through the astroid fields, the lay offs, the infidelity; I kept mine a little further out.
Then, we remembered the times when we shared the same path, before one of us or both of us destabilized and dropped free. Our laughs came out like stars at night and the tears in her eyes had a comet’s streak, rare and beautiful.
Before we pulled apart and back to our separate trajectories I heard her voice quake. It was slight, barely registered on my Richter. But I left, the gravity of my new life dragged hard and only now I realized I should have stayed to survey.
And with each visit after, her image became more bleary till one day I looked at her from orbit and all I could see were the vague oceans and lands of her life. They never moved, remained still like an yellowed photograph. All that was happening in her world, the people living on its surface and the new infrastructure built by experience I played no part in, were invisible to me now. When the globes of her blues spun around onto me, I knew she felt the same. But sometimes, when I look up from the surface of my own world, I can see the stars come out and that rare comet cross.