L'ecriture creative...

Ah, creative writing...

Jenny and Raymond were having a good night, if one’s definition of a good night included the mass consumption of alcohol, hallucinogenics, and other incapacitating substances. They had made a vow to become the most drunken, disorderly, lawless, rambunctious and completely obstreperous people in each bar they could not remember attending. It was questionable as to why they were doing this, because everyone knows that it is dangerous to one’s health and is putting at risk your life, and other bodily functions. It is one of the most important lessons you will ever learn in any academy, school, internet site, or on a bathroom stall wall or other reliable source. It is a lesson almost as crucial to understand as the lesson about how time-travelling is impossible and books or stories or creative writing projects based upon such fanciful and clichéd topics are bound to be gag-worthy if not just suitably unrealistic and unappetizing.
Upon a taxi ride home so uncomfortable for the poor driver that all his plans for suicide were reassured, Jenny and Raymond stumbled into their small, cheap, yet somehow snazzy New York apartment. The reason for this snazzy apartment is not revealed in this story, just like it never is in any stories or television shows, because it is impossible for all these broke people in New York to still have such snazzy apartments, sort of like how it is impossible for the subject of time-travel to be written about from a serious angle, because it is so overdone and completely contrary to reason.
Unsurprisingly, Jenny and Raymond collapsed almost immediately onto the floors of their snazzy New York apartment. Not only did this cause Jenny to hit her head so hard on the side of an alien spacecraft 6 times the size of any door, window or other aperture appearing to the naked eye within the snazzy apartment, but upon bearing witness to the blood gushing from the wound on his dear friend’s head, Raymond was sent into an alcohol, marijuana and gross-induced coma-like state so deep we can only classify his sights observed within this state as absurd, preposterous, fictitious and wholly untrue.
Raymond awoke to find himself staring face to face with the results of alcohol poisoning on his good friend Jenny. Sickened to his stomach, he rolled over and off the bed on which he was suspiciously lying on. (Suspiciously for we may remember, quite clearly, the two inebriated friends deflating ungraciously upon the floor- but then again, we may also recall that we cannot trust anything observed in Raymond’s dream-like state). As he inelegantly belched and toppled onto a sceptically snazzy carpet, he was at once confronted with an interesting conundrum- for at the foot of the bed in which a very repulsive human female was resting was a machine that appeared to be buzzing uncontrollably, with epileptic flashing lights (two characteristics common to make-believe machines) that shared certain similarities with a refrigerator. Proving that the theory of Pavlov’s dogs is, indeed, practiced by the distinguished humans of the 21st century, Raymond eagerly and sloppily lumbered over to the mystery machine.
When the door appeared to be immovable by even such a force as an overtly hung-over and drooling man, Raymond did what any sensible male of our fine era does when confronted with an unsolvable problem; they ask a woman to do it for them. Usually the woman can unravel and untangle the dilemma, because evolution made women into finer, more intelligent and primarily superior beings than men. Understandably, men, who are more primitive and less complex thinkers then women, tried to force women for thousands of years into submission because they didn’t like people beating them at gambling and horse races. We can see this male close-mindedness especially throughout the Middle Ages and continuing on through the Renaissance. In fact, one could ALMOST say it is a main contrasting component that sets apart the Renaissance from nowadays. One could observe such a fact without even HAVING to travel back in time to the Renaissance. Imagine that.
Upon prodding Jenny most unceremoniously, she was evidently able to open the door of the flashing machine. It is one of humankind’s many faults that they have become unfortunately, dismally, grievously and, lamentably, stupid- and go opening the doors of many a flashing, beeping machine, when they really could have done without. Alas, without the ironic developed stupidity during an age of innovation and mind-blowing scientific inventions, there would be no cause for stories or creative writing projects about the many facets of time-travel and all its irregularities, so what can you do.
Stupidity is an ironic virtue much celebrated in this Age of Science, but during the Renaissance, stupidity, or the excuse ‘primitivism’ was being surrendered for common sense, inquisitiveness, and humanism. This was a term coined by a group of Renaissance-ers to celebrate the natural human curiosity towards arts, sciences, and literature for people of all statuses and levels of wealth. They glorified for the first time the sense that everyone was worthy to be educated and pursue thought; they explored a freedom of choice not considered in the Medieval Ages. They started to revel in individualism.
And then, of course, we have the after-effects of such epiphanies; in our own common society, our lack of curiosity and motivation in this age of enlightenment and technology is simply depressing. Many of the citizens in a Renaissance society would probably be shocked at this absence of interest in such an era; they would be astounded that many a person cares not for how their television works and where the power originates from, just that it does work. In fact, one might go so far as to suggest that the forward thinkers of the Renaissance would be practically insulted to bear witness to where their original innovations for society have plummeted to; thank goodness there is no such thing as time travel and they could never have done that.
“Maybe,” remarked Jenny, a wise member of the female half of society, “we should not further investigate this decidedly dangerous and imaginary machine, Raymond. It has a lot of buttons and flashing lights, and I think if we continue on we may get sucked into a wormhole, the only hypothesized but still highly implausible way of time-travelling.”
“But Jenny!” whined Raymond. “My Y chromosome is demanding me to press those big macho buttons! And also, you must remember that probably none of this is real anyways so it’s alright because we will wake up in our snazzy New York apartment if we get maimed or killed!”
Jenny decided that she had might as well agree, because Raymond’s logic that this wasn’t really happening was awfully convincing, and she could give in without feeling horrible about herself because this wasn’t really happening. So, after only pausing to overdose on Advil, (another sure piece of evidence of the unreality the two friends were finding themselves within), Jenny and Raymond stepped into the whirring machine that it is evident by now they assumed to be a time machine.
“Good Lord!” cried Raymond, stepping out of the time machine. “I have no idea where we are, but there are not very many large and modern buildings.”
“I know where- or when- we are,” said Jenny. “It is obvious to me by the way that everyone is dirty and unhygienic, theology and humanism is developing, (although blind faith within God and the church still exists), people are watching plays written by William Shakespeare, lower class individuals are becoming more privvy and scrutinizing of thought, study, science, and religion, art is delving deeper into realms of interpretive and thoughtful imitation, and I can not understand anyone even though they are essentially speaking English; they must be utilizing one of the hundreds of different dialects within each country due to the fact that structured education of 1 single dialect hasn’t yet been developed amongst the peasants, that this time period is the Renaissance.”
“I think if someone from our time were to try and live in the Renaissance they would still be very confused about the lack of television, Jenny,” observed Raymond intellectually.
“Not to mention,” Jenny concluded, “That the majority of our 21st century population wouldn’t be able to survive in a world where people have to actually think, weigh options, and consider consequences. You, Raymond, are a fine example of a human from our era of automisation; without something or someone providing for you, you wouldn’t be able to function. We have become so used to the technologies we use each day that without them, our world would fall apart. It is just a typical irony that in our “advanced” society, full of bright and intelligent young minds (that may or may not be wasted by alcohol and drugs before achieving their potential), we completely abandon hard-working philosophies for an easy route aided and abetted through technology. We do not even wonder how things work anymore, as long as they do; as long as the work gets done, (preferably not by us), the means are trivial. Whether these means be truly astounding in their prodigal technology or not, we prefer to not have to lift a finger rather than try to understand what is completely available to us. Humanity has lost its curiosity, and I believe that that is the main element which sets our society apart from that of the Renaissance.”
“You’re probably right,” Raymond ascertained. It is unfortunate that after such an epiphanic conclusion Jenny has made about humankind in this state of unreality, that an angry mob of 16th century villagers intent on hunting down witches has congregated behind our duo of time travellers, but alas, this is the fate that meets all who travel into the non-existent. You get poked which pitchforks and burnt. Regrettably, amongst the prodigious scientists, philosophers, artists and humanists of the Renaissance, there were also those (usually of the Crazy Catholic Society, which originated around the evolution of amoebas and continues on to this day) who believed in burning intelligent people, or people they just didn’t like. There will always be a few crazies, I guess, like those who believe that time travel can be taken seriously and written upon as a topic equally as seriously. What can you do?