nebulat ergo cogito

The rain was coming down steadily when I walked to my car. By the time I got in and closed the door, I was cold and wet, water dripping off my hair, down my neck and into my eyes. I turned the key, and my headlights came on. Through the raindrops on my window, the reflected taillights of the car parked in front of me looked like stained glass. The trees, shrubs, and houses up the block looked like an impressionist painting.

I wiped as much water off my head and face as I could. It was running down my back, now, and I shivered. I still didn’t regret not bringing an umbrella. It never rains in Southern California, as they sang in 1972, so when we get a brief storm, I like to experience it to the fullest.

I started the car, and pushed a button on my steering column. The impressionist painting and stained glass were wiped away, revealing the stark realism of a residential street in the hills, a small, muddy river beginning to flow down the center of it.

I pulled away from the curb and began what would be a very slow drive home, through dark and winding streets that eventually put me up onto Mulholland, where I entered fog so thick, it could have been a cloudbank. The rain continued to fall, making the puddles on the road deeper than I expected. Winding across the spine of the hills that separate Hollywood from The Valley, the fog enveloped me, reflected my headlights back to me, turning the entirety of the world outside my car into a short stretch of pavement surrounded by a nearly uniform grey blob. I turned off the radio, my only tangible connection to the rest of humanity, and imagined that I was alone in a space between worlds.

I followed the slow turns, past the occasional suggestion of a hillside, a fence, or a turnout. The rain came down harder, mixing with the fog and my headlights to create a whiteout. I slowed my car, almost to a stop, and silently waited for reality to finish buffering.

 

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36 thoughts on “nebulat ergo cogito”

  1. This painted a very clear and haunting picture in my mind. There was only one spot that jarred me a bit:

    “The impressionist painting and stained glass were wiped away,… ”

    I might suggest “The impressionist painting and stained glass slid away, …

    Something about were wiped seemed to mess with the poetic flow of the line…maybe a verb agreement thing?

    1. That’s an interesting observation. I was thinking about how the windshield wipers wiped the water away. Slid away is nice, too.

      1. Beautiful. I knew you wrote. But didn’t realize the depth of (struggling for a word ) grace in which you share the story.

      2. Thank you for not calling me a jerk for making the 1st comment on this lovely scene be a nitpicky one. I started following your blog with your 1st reboot post last year and I believe you have been one of the stronger catalysts to my beginning to write fiction for myself (as an academic, I write LOTS of non-fiction/tech manuals/research reports). I have just recently posted my 1st ever short story (ghost story, as in story-that-has-ghosts-in-it) and my brain had been in ‘final picky edits mode’ right before reading this.

        I also feel that it is also partly your fault that I joined Tumblr in November. I may never be the same again.

        1. I didn’t think your comment was nitpicky; I read it as a kindness, observing that I wasn’t clear in the writing. That was helpful to me, and I appreciate it!

    2. I, too, felt the urge to be a bit nitpicky, but for me it was “pushed a button on my steering column” – only because I’ve never encountered a car with push-button windshield wipers. Otherwise, loved it!

    3. Your writing is getting noticeably better, Will. A patient and methodic articulation of detail and imagery is emerging in your style. Bravo!

  2. Nice! I was just going to skim it, but it sucked me right in. What lovely imagery it painted for me! Thanks for letting my brain take a short break.

  5. Wil, love your work and have met you over several PAXs. NOT being a dick but I think you turned on the car twice. I do love the mental picture you paint with this piece.

    1. Dude why would you point that out? I didn’t notice the car was started twice, and now I can’t help but notice. I was happier before I knew. Wait, this is starting to sound more like a problem with me, not you. Carry on.

  7. I posted this on your Facebook page, and someone commented that I should post it here, for you to read, Wil.

    Wil won’t read this, but about 2 years ago I was ready. I had a plan. I had the means. I couldn’t shake my depression and anxiety, no matter how hard I tried. Driving to the secluded spot I had picked out, I was for some reason listening to the Nerdist podcast with Wil as a guest. He talked about his struggles, openly, honestly, and with great empathy. I thought “if one of my all-time favorite celebs can get a grip on this, why can’t I?” So I got an appointment with a mental health professional, and here I am today. I still battle, I still struggle; some days its a chore to get out of bed and put pants on. But Wil showed me how to do it. He unknowingly encouraged me to keep going. I’ve purposefully avoided Cons where he was going to be, because I fear I’ll be “that guy” and cry and thank him for what he did for me.

    Thank you, Wil.

  17. Is the reality buffering thing what happens when I forget where my car keys are, or the name of a movie or which thing I needed when I came into the room? Apt!

  18. So I love that, of all the kinds of grammar Nazis you can be, you’re a Latin one, because that’s really freaking cool! I had a friend who could read and write Latin, and it was always fun to make him do it at parties.

    The title is taken from a quote by Umberto Eco, and because I don’t speak Latin, or read it, or even understand it, I just copied it from him. 🙂

  19. This reminds me of some of the short pieces Mr. Ellis would (long ago) share on LiveJournal. Few words. Lots of meaning. Thanks, Wil.

  22. What I like most, and what I’ve always respected about you, is that you have the guts to post your stuff, knowing full well that whatever you do post may generate both positive and negative feedback. That’s real guts. I’ve shared my work before, and gotten all types of critiques, some less than gentle, so I know how hard it is. I’ve only published an article or two, but still, it feels amazing when things do work out. I honestly think your forte is in the blog – reading your posts this past December has been quite rewarding. My own blog sucks – but whatever, I write only for me.
    BTW, I thought your pretentious bullshit collection was awesome though (and hilarious)…I used to be an amateur photographer, enrolled at a major university in Canada, so I know a thing or two about being pretentious – and probably a thing or two about being facetious, but I digress. 😉
    I liked the content of “nebulat”, and the idea – I’m all for the big idea. With all due respect, I thought there was a tad too much telling, and not enough of the showing, but that’s just my amateur self talking like I should know something. I know you read SK On Writing, so that idea isn’t anywhere new. Another good one is Strunk’s Elements of Style – that book is a godsend – it helped me get my articles published, even if I “ain’t no writing genius, yo.” I did love your “reality buffering” image though – I thought that was ace, and totally unexpected to read. Stuff like that makes me want to write more.
    Anyways – have a great new year – all the best for you and your family.
    –Mikus in Montreal–

  23. Beautiful little text. In my head I involuntarily replaced the rain by snow as that’s what the weather is like over here right now.

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