Tuesday, December 27, 2005

A Brief Interlude of Instants

It was my day off yesterday. No roommate today. That means early to bed yesterday, early to rise today. You sketch out the picture with a pencil first, when you’ve got the composition and perspective right, you take your pen and ink it with sure, purposeful strokes. No matter how unsure you are.

What’s that mean? It isn’t really a metaphor, just a picture. How long now? 4 months? Something to look forward to. If I thought about it, something to fear. No thinking in those colors. Doesn’t do you any good. Be here now. And here is alive. When the time comes to die, we might go to hell, no matter how we've lived our life or what God we've worshiped. I’ve found the worst thought. It puts life into a better light. Enjoy your life; no one knows what death may bring. At least here, there’s a good chance that it will get better for a little while.

The rest and the waking. Rio Bravo was good. A lot better than I expected. A lot different from what I imagined it would be. It moved so slow to such a brief climax, it was almost an Art film. Except that it had manly men with a sense of humor. That’s the one thing about St. Ayn’s characters. Not one of them had a really good sense of humor. Probably because St. Ayn didn’t. Roark’s book was the last one that the wise teacher had for the narrator of “Perks of Being a Wallflower.” Mind you, with the admonition to be “a filter, not a sponge.” Keep voting Democrat was probably what that meant. Pirates had better politics. They were not good people. But they were free. There it is. Say, “lah.” Pick it up and move from where you dropped it. Pick it up and go. Four months. Four months and then this again. Art. No community, but I’ll have art. They asked me, “what are the first three memories that come into your head from when you were a kid.” The railroad tracks on a foggy day, carrying my BB gun. The perfect snow day when we skated on the pond in the dump. The ducks in the swamp behind my uncle’s house as I ran away from the school bus. Love songs are the best songs.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

1. Going down to the field near my house into the hay and pollen, even though it was allergy season, and having my eyes swell-up like a heavy weight boxer.

2. Going swimming at the Horsheads pool on friday or saturday nights for open swimming.

3. Racing my friends down the road and then flying over my handlebars and landing on my chin, giving myself a cut requiring 3 stiches.

These are not very exciting, but these are what I first thought of. Its wierd the memories that float into you head from day to day. Some are memories that you thought you never had, and some are the ones that will forever haunt you. I guess our minds is funny like that.

December 27, 2005 at 9:54:00 AM PST  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

1.Age 3, my biological father buying me a matchbox car Porsche 911 as a parting gift when he left my mother and I.

2.Getting my head shaved with a rat tail the day after 4th grade classes ended. My planning was terrible though because the school awards ceremony was 2 weeks after school ended, and I was a bit of an overachiever.

3.Playing on the block and being the fastest, most elusive Barry Sanders wannabe to ever play a game of hide and seek. No better feeling than running down the sidewalk you know so well in your neighborhood with just enough sun left before your mom called your name from the steps.

Soon you will guess my identity.

January 4, 2006 at 12:39:00 PM PST  

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