Ephemereality I




Heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit, as Joyce would have it. Maybe not quite enough stars here, but still pinpoints the feel. Clear night for this city, anyway. Once of the dippers there, maybe. Second grade would have been sure. Memorized a couple of star charts, fancied self an astronomer. Binoculars in the yard, mid July. Explaining nebulas, or nebulae, to older boy next door, proving to be a genius. Bookworm, he said. Some people insecure even that young. Defense mechanisms evidenced early. Too bad it was star charts and not Freud. Better yet, Jung. Start off on right foot, already know what was bullshit by high school. Teachers longing to be yuppies, nothing worse. Couldn't get the doctorate, they wanted critical thought for that, guess I'll just have to settle for high school. Shape a new generation of drones in my image. Bastards.

(heaventree of stars hung with humid nightblue fruit Joyce has it in hundreds of thousands of words sevenandahalf shinethrough like lasers through a fog like pinprick stars through smog and cityglare one infinitesimal portion of the whole outweighing the rest one part greater than the sum a beautiful forest missed for one blinding tree)

"Penny for your thoughts." Kali's obstreperous talent for breaking reverie working its magic again.

"Which ones?"

"The ones in your head."

"I wasn't aware that I had thoughts anywhere else."

"Okay, the ones in your head right now."

"I'm afraid you're too late. They've already left me."

"Excuse me? What?"

"You asked for 'right now.' That 'right now' is already gone."

"Nice. Beautifully evasive. I commend thee. You win, I'll try again.
What were you thinking about in the last few minutes before I offered, figuratively, a penny for your thoughts?"

(motherfucker taking my last beer pretending he didn't know nothing I'll fucking show him I'll fuck I don't know what living with a cocksucking thief thinks he'll get away with it does it again I'll fuck him up so him now flat softflesh asphalt silence me existence same if please from watch your calmly as an opportunity of escape then down quartered fuck it talk well blinding motherfucker need a blunt or something)

Well put. Handles her semantics with proficiency, when put to the test. "Child psychology. Keep the change."

"Are you serious?"

"Of course not." Leg shaking up and down, hadn't even noticed. Read somewhere it means feeling trapped. Don't think feeling trapped, though. Probably just caffeine. Only body wanting to run, feeling trapped by mind. "I'm not entirely bullshitting you, though. At any rate, I don't believe there was anything of any particular relevance or interest. Just one continuous rambling, internal monologue, really. Certainly nothing worth writing down for posterity." Kali laughs. Strange. "Excuse me?"

"What?" Amused smile still on her lips.

"You laughed. I'm curious as to why."

"Oh, Christ, I couldn't possibly even begin to explain."

(He was just standing there. The doors of the train were still open; the train for the opposite direction pulled in across the station. He was holding one of the handrails, listening to his Walkman and reading the script to a play. Tapping his fingers on the rail to the rhythm in his ears, he turned to glance at a woman sitting near him whom he thought particularly attractive. She looked up at him, and his eyes quickly darted away from hers. From the other train, across the platform, he heard a group of kids, teenagers, goofing around and yelling back and forth.

He returned to his book. The other train began to pull out of the station as his own remained standing there with its doors still open. The sound of screams punched through his music. He looked up quickly, his hand snapping down to silence the Walkman, to see one of those kids - tall, black, late teens - being dragged down the platform with his arm caught in the train doors just above the elbow.

His jaw slowly fell halfway open, his eyes widened a bit. The other train left his line of sight and the station was choked with silence. A handful of the other passengers stepped out onto the platform to see what, exactly, had happened. They returned, but their faces remained enigmatic. He heard one of them say something about emergency brakes, and from another he caught the words "poster child" out of an otherwise obscured sentence. His gaze wandered across the inside of the train, finally returning to the woman seated near him. This time neither of them rushed to look away. Instead, they looked at each other the way strangers often do when there's a mutual attraction between them, with disguised lust and curiosity, but this time tinged with fear and panic. His lips shifted, ended up caught halfway to a smile, caught halfway to a frown -

He returned to his book, turned his music back on.)

Curiosity truly piqued now, but not up for this sort of game. Sigh, out through the nose. "I suppose you're entitled to your secrets, even if you do intend to torment me with them."

"Oh, it's not that at all." Give her a cock-eyed, show disbelief. "All right, maybe a little. Honestly, though, I really don't see any way to get this across and have you take it the least bit seriously."

"I don't know that I'd be certain about that, were I in your shoes. I doubt you'll come across a more open-minded individual anywhere on this bench." Slight humor there, none but the two in this corner of the park, let alone bench.

Bit of a smile from her, anyway, while looking downwards for a moment. "However, I'm also dead sure that I won't find a more rational individual anywhere on this bench, and anyone with any hint of reason would be guaranteed to dismiss the entire concept as absurd, as silly. Stupid, even."

"Is that so? Why is it, then, that you haven't dismissed the notion in such a manner? I've known you long enough to be able to assert, with a great deal of certainty, that you weren't born yesterday."

"That doesn't mean I'm not a fool."

"I'll have you know that empty self-deprecation is my area of expertise, and you're not about to get that one by me."

"Okay, fine. That's beside the point, anyway." Another sigh from her, no longer relaxed and playful. Strong sense of gravity. The truth is, I really haven't been given any choice in the matter."

Hold on, then, very odd statement coming from her. "You presume to tell me what the truth is?"

"Just this once, yeah, I do."

"I see. Perhaps I won't pursue this matter, then."

"I told you, I could never - "

"All right, then. Really, that's enough."

(only structural walls need be vertical)

Leg shaking again, seems more appropriate this time. Certainly on the defensive now, tense. Only took one word, too. Hit the right button, reaction was triggered. Almost without consent. Pavlovian. Why, yes, that name does ring a bell. "I apologize, I didn't mean to snap at you. I just tend to get a bit touchy when people use that word."

"What, truth?"

"yes, that's the one." Force a smile, hide some of the tension. Smile must be an obvious fake. Drop it, then. No need for pretense now, we've both gone too deep. This sort of pretense, at any rate.

"Okay, I'll do my best not to use it, then."

"No, you needn't - "

"Hey, it's no problem."

"But that's beside the point. The root of the issue is that I'm being an asshole."

(looking down on oneself from above creating observerevent duality of the self observer being thatwhich could be event as presentense throughaglassdarkly allows one to pick out the subtle faults as the good escapes to become partof the observer)

"I guess you really are the empty self-deprecation expert here."

"Perhaps, but, all right, I think we really can drop this whole subject now."

"Okay." Bites her lip, stares at the ground. As if something to talk about lies just beyond, just has to be able to see through it to find something to talk about. Suppose she's less comfortable with the silence. Nothing really wrong with it, though. Find it really quite comfortable, personally. Less bullshit. No chance of having to put up with small talk. Nothing worth communicating, verbally, don't talk. Simple. Silence, really, not so much of a burden as most seem to think. Four other physical senses left over, plenty to be said to them.

Touch.

(hand goesout shaking trembling from self to other still part of thefirst but joining thefirst to theother simplegentleeasy but powerfulintense even dangerous first attack through nonverticalwall of politessesprentense feigned unawareness ending the games by having the gall to admit they exist)

Touching her cheek. Actually. Have something in the way of balls tonight, after all. Soft. Gently, almost calmly, though the hand still shakes.

Her mouth opens a little. Taken by surprise. Looks up slowly, right at the eyes. In the eyes. Into. Smiles, very small, just at the corners. Almost speaks, looks for a moment like she can't find any words, mouth closes again. Takes the hand, pulls away from her face down to the bench. Just holds. Finally, her mouth opens again.

"Thanks."

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