From A Distance

...Such an imperceptible concept, distance. I never really understood how it worked, how someone could decide what was far, and what was close, how you can apply it given our strives into the unknown, discoveries which question our very concept of reality, but of course, I must digress...

I've been here for years now, this metropolis of urbanites, stuck wandering the streets. I always walk, map in hands; never trusted electronics, and I always like the feel of the ink, the paper, the sensation of looking down upon these little squares and lines like a god. I see others doing the same, with little headlines beaming into their retinas, instead of little buildings. I wonder what motivates people to read...perhaps you understand more than I do.

Authenticity, even if it came from the bowels of a machine. Each step, each metre, each mile, kilometre, adding up into the total of life, a summary of my worth in the great cosmos. Very poetic for an ex-deliveryman, I know, but hey, this whole writing thing isn't so bad, and it's nice to be the one putting the ink onto the paper, for once. So, I would wander the streets of Vancouver, searching for my calling, waiting for some moment of enlightenment, or some other hammed up, abused concept that so many writers seem to crap out. Perhaps I was waiting for a good cup of coffee. Perhaps that's all it takes, a cup of joe.

Well, it wasn't in the nicest place, nor was it the best coffee I had, but on a soggy morning, downtown, in some new dive I'd never been to before, I saw my salvation. I sauntered to the counter, decrying my dirtied state, when I saw her working behind the counter. I won't go into detail; sometimes mystery works better than any flamboyant prose could. So, starting off as a lost, unemployed guy, wandering the streets, I found my new goal. As I sat, transfixed by this woman's beauty, I saw her reading the paper. A woman of intellect, clearly. How could I match that?

So, now you see here, this is why I practice my pen for the first time in years, this is why I have entered the world of the literary; to carve myself out as an intelligent man, to forge a new life, so I can be worthy of this lady. I still go to that coffee place from time to time, sometimes reading a paper, sometimes a book. I've been reading into quantum physics lately, and the concept of space-time intrigued me; the way that distance can be tied to our perception of the passage of time is astounding, and I can only wonder if that was involved. Perhaps thoughts work at the speed of light, maybe that's the reason we have yet to understand how the human mind works, but once more, I must digress...

Time, combined with the properties of light, to create a tangible concept of distance. So, I look ahead into the future, the furthest frontier of all, that mystifying and complex human construct, to find my goal, to find my calling. Perhaps I'll be hired as a food critic, and one day, I could go back to that hidden dank cavern, give it a stunning appraisal, and perhaps, one day, I may be able to work up the courage to talk to her.

I realise this is a rather unorthodox application letter, and that you may have been approached by far more qualified persons seeking the journalist role; however, you now know my motivations, and I assure you that if you hire me, I will be the most diligent and faithful reporter you could ever hire, because I have nothing to lose, and a whole lot to gain by working for you. Looking ahead, I can only wish you a pleasant tomorrow, and look forward to hearing back from you...