People are always asking me if I know Tyler Durden.
I can confidently say that after thirty years of existence that I never lived before I met Tyler Durden. I saw my life as enormous, stretching before and behind me. An infinity of stopping, starting again, and perpetually hopeful.
Yes, I know Tyler Durden.
And then we discovered life in between gasps on the floors of decrepit bars, abandoned homes still reeking of asbestos. It was only as my mercurial blood spat across the cardboard "padding" in pop art splatters that I could see for the first time. Everything has a way of coming into focus when you're vacuuming oxygen and unused nerve endings are firing off into primeval parts of the brain, crimson flares into unknown skies.
In this process of self-destruction and enlightenment, it was easy to focus on Tyler in his ridiculous red coat, which drowned out the competing crimson of my blood. Powerful arms crossed in a haughty stance, laid back shoulders split on an uneven surface, damned smirk ready to leap at the corners of his face.
I know him like I know myself.
When my eyes cased in organic crap leaking from my skin met his confident face, I smiled my Mona Lisa smile. Falling apart at every molecule. In that glance I could hear his words, the seductive undertones. This is what I created. You are closer to life than you have ever been before. In watching your own death, destruction, you can lose all hope. Now you can be free .
I started to see black at the edges of my vision as my head was slammed down again. I have tapped out, and my opponent stopped. If I could have, I would have asked him to fight me again, right then. But this is a rule of fight club and therefore could and can not be done.
Tyler and another man braced my shoulders, pulling me out of oblivion. No one asked if I was alright, sane, happy, sad, whatever. This was survival, and I wanted to smile because of this indifference. The next pair was already going at it as I was placed on an old crate. Tyler allowed that ridiculous smirk to appear on his face.
"Do you know Tyler Durden," he asked. I believed I was unconscious.
"What kind of dumbass question is that," I replied. The smirk grew wider.
"The one you and others will ask for a lifetime, Alice." He leaned closer and closer to me, and I was struck by how he reminded me of death with that halogen halo around his head. His lips touched mine, and then his face, and he fell through me.
I wake up at SeaTac. No, SFO. It doesn't really matter. I wipe off the dribble of fluid from my yellow and purple cheek as I lurch forward.
It's Monday again, and all I can dream about is Saturday.
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Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from this story.