Logical Fish

From this, I concluded that Jim’s assumption was wrong.

“Wrong in what way?” Jim responded angrily.

It was a logical question. Life meant so much to him that things had to be one way or the other.

We were by the river. Nobody was around. It was cold.

The river ran the wrong way. South to North, it should be, not the other way around, like the way it was.

“Is it a full moon tonight?” I asked.

Jim was all puzzled, not paying attention to what I was saying. The answer came back five minutes later.

“No, it can’t be.” The question was: Is it only on the surface that it appears wrong, or is it actually wrong?

“This fucks up everything we’ve been working for!” Jim said furiously.

The man finally came. He was dressed up in black. We were nervous.

“Ask him! Go ahead!” I told Jim. He reluctantly opened his mouth.

“What color is the fish?” The man replied, “It’s red. He is embarrassed.” I figured that it was.

“Well, dump him,” I ordered. The man took out a Swedish fish, and threw it in the river.

“Is that all there’s to it?” the man asked. “That’s all for you,” I told him.

As he turned around and began walking away, Jim vomited.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. The fish did not agree with his stomach.

The man started running. We were framed. I somehow knew that the fish had nothing to do with it. I tried. I couldn’t cry over the spilt milk.

Jim was as good as dead. I left him alone. In the last few minutes of his life, he needed much solitude.

I couldn’t think well. My head was confused. About what I should think about.

I felt Jim’s pain in my stomach. It didn’t matter at this point. The fact that the river was flowing in the wrong direction apparently did not bother the fish.

What’s more: the fact that it only appeared so had nothing to do with the direction.

The man’s appearance and Jim’s vomiting had no connection.

They were fragmented. No causal connection.

The symbolism led nowhere. So, now, reconstruct something! Prove that it was not empty.

Propositions must have some connections to the way things are. 

Jim’s assumption, I can tell you now, was that reality walked alone on its own accord.

So, we were at the river, reconstructing symbolism, and probing reality.

Jim died from the fish. A symbolic kill. He exchanged his life for knowledge. Alas, he never learned. You know why?

Because his assumption was indeed correct. He was a victim of his own disbelief.

I’ve proven the point. All I had to do now was convince myself. 

I jumped in the river. The river got hold of my heart.

In a sense, I am not writing this. What did I ever learn?

This is how it works, or worked. Stick to the truth; I told myself.