tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33651295411799369392024-03-13T05:58:39.256-07:00Obscure ObscuritiesSheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-75896583891932037532024-02-26T18:26:00.000-08:002024-02-26T18:26:29.168-08:00Unasked QOTD<p> I have been trying to work on a long term creative project lately, it is in large part an exploration of my own personal difficulties and struggles. </p><p> However, the situation in Gaza has made me freeze in my attempts to express any individualized grievances. Every time I try to move forward with this project, it results in feelings of guilt. How can I, owner of a safe home, with my safe pets, and my cold beer possibly express personal discontent in the face awareness of such events? </p><p> So, my crew, my comrades, my family; this is my QOTD to you: How do you continue to create in such circumstances?</p>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-84003206617237033172023-12-24T23:02:00.000-08:002023-12-24T23:02:15.052-08:00Christmas Eve Musings<p> The collective insanity of our species is, frankly, astonishing. This is thusly demonstrated by highway billboards, the ubiquity of flathead screws, and the very existence of the British royal family. How long can we, as sane and simple individuals, exist in the asylum of our collective madness before trickle-down psychology begins to take effect? How could our mental state not be vulnerable to the societal microphone feedback loop of the environment we have collectively created?</p><p>And how far does your individual innocence extend in a world of collective culpability? How big a slice of that pie--of war, of genocide, of child hunger should you serve yourself? Or does that whole pie belong to you? And to everyone else, as well?</p><p>If someone else--your mother, for example--expressed these thoughts, this guilt, would you not extend them grace? </p><p>But is it grace that you would be giving? Or is it simply a selfish desire to believe that those you love could not possibly be a part of a machine so monstrous? And could you ever apply that beautiful lie to yourself? Do you truly believe that guilt is equitable to absolution? And isn't there a certain arrogance to the guilt you feel? How much power to you think you actually have? Or, is that too an excuse? A search for an exit in this wild maze?</p>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-335939378685153362023-11-18T12:17:00.000-08:002023-11-21T19:01:06.312-08:00The Undiscovered Country<p> <span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: 700; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Prologue </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-1fda4985-7fff-e0f1-3ea5-5947efa56064"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The branches of the sycamore swayed in the light of late autumn, like a dappled school of fish caught in the undulating currents of twilight’s cool breeze. Or maybe a flock of sparrows moving with the shifting tides of a dead summer. The breath of the wind felt gentle on my cheek. Its strength was evident in the way it managed to manipulate the tree’s great limbs. Do the weather’s currents gain power with altitude, or do objects closer to nature simply respond with more alacrity to her whims?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Beneath the great canopy of the tree, the grass was sparse in its shade--a contrast to the golden-green of the fields extending beyond the borders of her shadow. It was on that patchy ground that I layed, when the sound of approaching footsteps stirred me from my reverie.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You know, I’ve probably listened to you go on and on about this place about a thousand times, but actually seeing it for myself…well, I guess I can understand why you find it so special.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I lifted my head, squinting into the waning light of the day to see Tom approaching--a note of hesitation in his step. Holding a can of beer in each hand, he lowered himself down next to me, crossing his legs in a manner which we would’ve described as children “indian-style”. Without looking at me, he proffered one of the cans, which I took. I paused briefly to enjoy the cool, crisp firmness of the thing before softening the sides with a crack of the tab. For a long moment, we shared one-another’s silence, wrapped in the ambient music of the sycamore’s rustling leaves.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I guess that must be the tree-house I’ve heard so much about.” Tom said, finally breaking the silence and gesturing into the distance with his beer. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I returned my gaze to the shifting colors of the canopy. As I took the first crisp sip of the cool drink, I watched as a lone leaf made its fluttering way down from the heights, landing at the feet of my outstretched legs. Lifting my eyes from the fallen comrade, I looked towards the south end of the property. There, nearly silhouetted in the sunset, was a structure that adorned a tree similar to the one we sat beneath. A rope ladder led up to a boxish construction with two windows and an open entryway. A classic tree-house by any kid’s standards. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I let out a sigh and, with my following inhalation, let in a sad, but welcome tenderness that only the pleasant nostalgia of childhood can make one feel.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah,” I finally replied. “Me and my brother built it when I was about ten, or so. He found the plans while rifling through some old boy’s magazines from, like, the fifties, or something.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was taking in the swiftly darkening structure in earnest now. Reaching across the channel of adulthood, attempting to touch the shore of my youth–the tethers to which were now irrevocably cut.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> “He, of course, ended up doing most of the work.” I continued. “But, he always made me feel a part of the team. Like I was important. He made it </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">our</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> treehouse.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I let the void space between us fill up with silence once again. I understood, right there in the shimmering vacuum of that afternoon, that I had reached a type of understanding. An understanding that, until that moment, had evaded me. The weight of the past poured down on me then like a mountain. The perception of my entire history hit me in one moment. An avalanche of the past.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Geez, man,” Tom eventually replied. “That sounds like some real Mark Twain shit, or something. I’m actually a bit jealous, to be honest. You must’ve had quite the childhood. Running around this place with a kick-ass older brother like that.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It really was something.” I said, leaving his statement mostly ignored. “Did I ever tell you that our original plan was to build it deep in those woods?” I made a gesture with my own beer. “Like, a real-deal secret hide-out. We had plans for booby traps, complex maps, all sorts of stuff. Mom wasn’t going to have any of it though. She told us that if we </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">really</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> wanted it, we would have to build the fort there next to the orchard, where she could keep her eye on us.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I gestured once more towards the distant tree. “You know, that tree is actually called a London Plane. A lot of people confuse them with sycamores like this one.” I said with a nod to the outstretched branches above us and picked up one of the fallen leaves. “If you look at the two though, you can spot the differences.” I took a deep breath, ready to go on with my rambling, arboreal diatribe. Tom placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. With that simple gesture he dammed the flow of words attempting to exit my mouth. I felt the tributaries of that flow redirect, and tears bloomed beneath my eyes.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hey, man,” he said softly. “It’s okay, if you’re not okay.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I looked at him, confused by the words. It was then that I truly felt the tears. I turned and embraced my friend.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I can’t remember how long he held me, but after my shuddering sobs had subsided he pushed me back, looking into my face. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“My dude,” Tom said, that infectious grin twitching the side of his face. “We had better get inside. The others might finish the rest of the brewskis without us.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">With a broken laugh, I nodded my agreement and we helped each other stand. Stumbling with the weight of the past and the weight of alcohol, we made our way towards the yellow light of the cabin’s windows.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">2</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The funeral had taken place earlier that day–around 9 am. We planted both my mother and brother in a cemetery plot nearby the property, upon which Tom and I now strolled. The three, or so, acres contained a small orchard, a fairly small cabin, and a small stream threading its wending way through the land I had called home for many years. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Both my mother and brother had been taken in the same accident. I had been there as well, though my memory of the event was almost non-existent. On that evening, we had shared dinner together at the local diner, only a few miles down from the property. It had been a celebratory occasion, on account of me landing a new job down in the city. It was a big step forward for me. The new gig finally allowed me to put years of sharing crumby apartments behind. A week prior, I had signed the lease for a modest, but charming townhome downtown, only a few blocks from my new employer. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Sherryl, one of two that made up the waitstaff at The Rusty Spoon Diner, set the third round of pints before me and my elder brother.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You still good on that Diet Coke, Hon?” she said to our mother, who gave her a placating nod–she had given up alcohol years ago, but was willing to indulge the habits of her offspring. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, Sher,” she replied, lifting the hard plastic glass embossed with a Coca-Cola logo and giving the ice a slushing swirl. “You know me, girl. I’m one and done,” she said with a coquettish wink in our server’s direction. “Try ta watch my figure, ya know.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The waitress–at least a decade our mother’s junior–giggled and a slight blush crept into her cheeks as she gathered our empty plates, then made her way towards the back. The sway of her hips was slightly more pronounced than when she had approached us, I remember thinking, or maybe it was just my imagination.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Geeez, mom!” my brother said under his breath. “I never picked you for a letcher. You sure you didn’t get something extra in that coke? Or is it just something that happens when you get old?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Now, Jacob,” My mom replied, turning an upraised brow in his direction. “I want you to think good and hard about whether you really want to hear your mother expound on her sexual interests.” She leaned forward and, through a sideways smile, whispered just loud enough for us to hear. “Because I absolutely will.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jake and I both instinctively reached for our pints and began to drink. Mom leaned back and let out a loud, rolling laugh. Mine and Jake’s eyes met over the rims of our upturned glasses and at the same moment we burst into laughter ourselves, spraying beer across the table.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mom excused herself from the table to use the restroom, while Jake and I used the leftover brown paper napkins to mop up the results of our mirth.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So,” I said hesitantly, as I attempted to soak up booze with a fistfull of already saturated paper. “Mom is into, like, girls, now?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Women,” </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Tom corrected. “Don’t say girls, it makes it sound fucking creepy. But yeah, she’s been, uh, exploring.” He finished with a shudder. I returned this with a cocked eyebrow.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hey man! No, I’m not bothered because it’s women she’s into these days,” he said reproachfully. “I thought you knew me better than that. It’s just that it’s </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mom</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">, you know? I hate to admit it, but even now it’s hard to think of her as anyone but the lady who kept us in line. The one who slapped us down so hard that time when we tried roasting ‘mallows in the treehouse. Good christ! Do you remember that? I think it was your idea.” Tom’s face was red with mirth, and perhaps the copious amounts of lager he had consumed. “You soaked a bunch of the town newsletters with the hose and layered them on that pinewood flooring. You insisted that would be enough to keep the fire from spreading. I still can’t believe I went along with it. The look when mom’s face came up through the trapdoor with all that smoke swirling around still is a total nightmare image. Funny thing, I was </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">way</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> more afraid of that disapproval than it ever occurred to me to be afraid of burning alive in our fort.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I leaned back and nodded, the memories of our childhood exploits had begun to unfurl in my mind; lubricated by the effects of alcohol and the nearly painful sweetness that is childhood nostalgia. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, god. I haven’t thought about that in </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">so</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> long. I’ll never forget how she started spraying down the fire with the garden hose while you were trying to stamp it out. You getting more and more soaked, jumping up and down like a lunatic. I think she might have been aiming more at you than the flames, looking back.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jake laughed out loud in agreement, while my mind continued along the crooked path of memory. There had been my mother, halfway through the opening to the treehouse. Hose in one hand, the other bracing herself against the rough planks. Her cursing us at the top of her lungs as Jake did his dance on the literal ashes of our exploits, getting wetter by the second. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Me, crouched in the corner. At once aware of the inherent hilarity of the situation, and–at the same time–paralyzed by shame and guilt at being its perpetrator. This memory was the first time I could recall having felt contradictory emotions. Perhaps contradictory is the wrong way to put it. The feeling of fondness towards and humor at my family and the situation were juxtaposed with the awareness of a horrific potential outcome. An outcome that would have rested squarely on my shoulders. I remember in that moment an abyss opening up before me. Two realities of perception converging on a single event; both valid and capable of existing within the same space. Both emotional responses firing off in my little nine year old brain. I will never forget that seemingly paradoxical convergence of dualities giving birth to a third. Deep and terrible fear. In that moment words like </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">frantic, mania, madness, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">and </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">frenzied </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">gained a galaxy’s worth of meaning. That was the moment when I first recognized it. A fear greater than that of mere darkness, deeper than that of the unknown. A fear of the yawning maw of incomprehensible reality, stripped of hallways and hinged doors that could be shut and locked. A fear of what I would, in time, come only to think of only as The Abyss.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Man, do you remember how she wouldn’t let us out of the house for a week after that?” Tom said, startling me out of my reverie. “But then when we were finally allowed back out, she had completely repaired the treehouse, and even added a skylight where the ceiling had burned.” He gave out a sigh and I could tell that he was getting lost down his own path through the past. Then he shook himself from that particular miasma and grinned at me. “We must have been raised by the most insane, stern, and contradictory woman this side of the river.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A hand came down and–not ungently–swatted him upside the head. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Insane and stern? Please, you never got the chance to meet </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">my mother</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">. Now there was a woman who could starch shirts and chase the mice from the pantry with nothing but a glare.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mom stood there behind Jake and raised a thoughtful finger to her lips. “Now, contradictory, that one I will take.” She raised her arms outward with mock solemnity, “</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I am large, I contain multitudes!” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Uh…what?” said Jake.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, Jesus,” groaned my mother. “It’s Whitman, J. The poem has literally been hanging on our kitchen wall for a decade.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“More like Walt </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Wilt</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">man,” I chimed in, pulling a double-thumbs-down and blowing a raspberry. Then continued with my smarmiest professoral tone of voice. “Mom, don’t you know that poetry is out! These days it’s all about the </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">plotless novel</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“God! Give me a window high enough and all the literary professors and I will better this world,” She responded.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hey, nerds!” Called Jake through cupped hands. “While you two were soaking your jock-straps over Walt Disney, or whatever, guess who just won this round of tab-tag.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We both turned to see Jake with a shit-eating grin on his face, and our curvy waitress bustling away with the ubiquitous black plastic tray.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Fuck!” we both said in unison. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The three of us had this little game that we played. One that I suspect isn’t uncommon among close friends and family, where it’s a sort of contest to see who can pick up the check without the others noticing. We didn’t go out all that often, and when we did it was usually to the local spots where prices were generally non prohibitive. So the game had continued through the early years of Jake’s and mine’s young adulthood. Jake had always proved to be pretty adept. It was the sort of game where the losers come out ahead and love was the prize dealt out in equal measure between the three of us. It was a game that we never spoke of or decided we were playing, just an organic thing that can only sprout where the fertile soil of time and true understanding are so prevalent as to become ubiquitous. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As it turned out, those would be the last moments during which my recollection was able to gain purchase upon these two individuals who, upon hindsight, made up my entire world.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Tom and I entered the old family cabin, greeted by the warmth and scent that only a hearty flame within a hearth can provide. I hadn’t fully realized the autumnal chill of the outside air until I stepped into, what I guess I could call, my ancestral home. There next to the fireplace was Frankie, ensconced in a worn, but sturdy leather armchair. Tom’s girlfriend was not really a slight woman, but the mass of the old, cozy seat made her seem downright diminutive. She glanced up at us from what seemed a rather lengthy novel and smiled. I would say she gave Tom a smile, one that practically beamed, the type of smile that only comes from two people who have recently discovered not just the joy of being in one another’s presence, but the security of each other’s company. Her gaze then fell to me, and the landscape of her features shifted to a more contemplative look. I didn’t know if she was projecting sympathy and concern, or if that was just what I was receiving. A garbled signal next to the strong radio waves that connected my two friends.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Nice of y’all to join us. Are you two ready to try a taste of this fine vintage?” She reached beneath the overstuffed armchair and produced a long brown paper bag. She slipped the contents free with a flourish. “I present to you </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Chateau Lafite</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">. The finest red wine the local liquor store could provide.” Frankie said all this in a sort of affected french accent and with a wry smile.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well indeed, Mademoiselle!” Tom replied, matching her tones. “We two thirsty gentlemen have spent much time in the harsh and hostile conditions of this fair countryside estate. We must replenish and, indeed, reinforce our manly constitutions with these most excellent libation which my fair lady is offering!”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Despite the recent wounds of grief, I couldn’t help but grin at the couple’s antics. I recall in that moment having the distinct premonition that this may indeed prove to be the relationship that finally won over my old friend Tom and would capture him for the proverbial </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">long haul.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, fuck yeah! I didn’t know you had </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">fancy</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> booze, Fran!”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I turned to see the long, lanky figure of Mark grinning widely at me from his place on the threadbare couch. In his lap a curious jig, a few inches long. Inserted through a small hole in the top was a dowel measuring a little over two feet in length. Scattered on one side of Mark's seat was about a dozen more of these dowels, but when I looked closer, I realized I was wrong. They weren’t dowels. Stabbed into the cushion on the other side there were several neat rows of fully realized arrows. I then understood that curious little device must be for fletching them. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Jesus, man,” Tom said, echoing my own thoughts about the sight before me. “You planning a siege, or something?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mark laughed, “Nah, dude. I promised Fran here that I would show her how to shoot.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I saw Frankie roll her eyes at this and surmised that this offer wasn’t exactly a welcome one. Apparently Mark saw it too.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Aw, don’t be like that, Fran. Once we all get a few drinks in, I’ll show you guys a thing or two. Trust me, we’re gonna have a good time.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After a bit more banter, Frankie opened up the wine and poured us each a glass. I took mine into the little galley kitchen at the rear of the cabin to start in on an early dinner. The others all made noise about how they should do the cooking, but I successfully begged them off, explaining earnestly that I really did enjoy preparing food. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It wasn’t just me being polite. I have always found making a meal to be a relaxing and focusing experience. In that moment, it was just what I needed in order to clear my head. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I opened the freezer and found three large chicken breasts. I pulled these out and set them on the counter. In the pantry there was a canister of somewhat stale oregano, a loaf of bread (also a bit stale, though free from mold), and the ever ubiquitous packages of store-brand spaghetti. That cinched it. I knew that there were still a few ripe tomatoes in the garden, so I set to work making a basic, but satisfactory meal of chicken parmesan.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As I worked, the scents of my labors began to fill the small space of the cabin. The aroma of suited garlic, tomatoes being blackened on the cast iron skillet, and frying chicken finally stirred within me an appetite that I hadn’t realized had been absent ever since the accident. I, apparently, was not the only one for whom hunger had raised her head to catch the scent of my culinary efforts. It wasn’t long before Mark entered the kitchen to catch a glimpse of the meal in progress. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Damn, man! I didn’t know you could cook. Smells fucking good bro,” he said as he raised his fist for the obligatory bump. I reluctantly completed the ritual. He unceremoniously dipped a pinky into the bubbling sauce and popped it into his mouth. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hey!” He exclaimed. “That’s not bad at all. When did you learn to make all this stuff?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I took a moment to mull over his inquiry. “Well, growing up here it was just me, my brother, and mom. There was alway a lot to do, so mom assigned us tasks throughout the week. One of mine was prepping meals. Looking back, her teaching me how to work my way around a kitchen must’ve been more of an effort than her simply throwing a meal together on her own, but eventually I was able to get the hang of it. At some point, I ended up making breakfast or dinner three or four days out of the week. I kinda started to enjoy it, after some time, and pretty much became the household cook. I think I mainly just enjoyed making the meal more than cleaning up after it.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well, my man, your mom must’ve been one hell of a teacher. Because this shit,” he said while helping himself to another finger full of sauce, “Is fucking fire. You should be on, like, Iron Chef, or something.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Despite my misgivings at his uninvited finger dunking, I did feel flattered and let out a sort of self-deprecatory kind of laugh. I have always been a sucker for compliments. My self esteem and the praise of others have a much stronger correlation than I have ever wanted to admit. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s really nothing that crazy. Just a basic basta. If you put enough salt and garlic in, anything will taste good. I’m just lucky to have this space. The garden and orchard that I can get fresh ingredients from makes a world of difference. Good ol’ mother earth has a lot more to do with this than I do,” I said, gesturing towards the simmering pot with my wooden ladle. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I looked up from the roiling pan to see a contemplative look on Mark’s face. After a pause he said. “So, like, is this property totally yours now?” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I shrugged. “I mean, yeah. I guess so. My mom paid it off a couple of years ago. She threw a big ol’ party when it happened, too. Jake and I made a big fire in the pit and she burned the mortgage and everything. The whole shabang, you could say.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You know, that’s pretty cool, my guy,” he said, still staring off into the middle distance. “It’s completely yours now and you can do </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">anything</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> you want here. You can really let loose, ya know? Go totally wild.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah, I mean, I guess so.” I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. The statement felt like a foreign tongue exploring the cavity of some sensitive dental fissure. His words entered a place not yet fixed, nor healed. I turned back towards the task at hand and began to dish out loose clumps of spaghetti onto the four plates I had laid out. My appetite had fled once more into that all consuming pit of introspection.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mark took one last dip into the still boiling sauce before heading out of the room. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I gotta get another glass of that stuff that Frankie brought, my man. That wine is </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">fire</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As he passed through the doorway, Tom squeezed in past him, with a stiff but cordial nod. I stared down, stirring the sauce that had almost reached that perfect consistency for spaghetti. While I approximated the time left for it to reach perfection–two minutes out, at most–Tom leaned against the counter and let out a deep sigh. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Man, not to get into your business, but where did you meet this guy?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I let out a sigh of my own, still gazing at the bubbling red mass, looking more and more like viscera, before me.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Mark was hired on about a month ago over at the plant. The boss teamed us together on this new project and, well, I guess he heard about the funeral and decided to come pay his respects.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah, I can get that. But he’s a bit of a tool, to be honest. Why invite him over here?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I looked up sharply from the sauce. “What do you mean? I thought you and Frankie invited him over.” Looking at my friend at that moment, I could see that he had no clue what I was talking about.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Nah, man,” he replied, his expression puzzled. “Why would we do that? I don’t even know the guy.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I cast my mind back through the miasma of the day’s events. My grief at the funeral, mixed with the pressure of the social situation made the immediate past a blur. Like two different lenses held up closely to a complex object.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I…didn’t I see you talking to him after the services? I mean, I just assumed…”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, I did,” he said now with more gravity. “But I didn’t invite him over. He was asking questions about </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">you.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> We both assumed you had given him the green light to follow us here.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We both looked over at the door that Mark had gone through only minutes before. A long and unsettled silence loomed over us, like black clouds before a storm.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well…you know, some people are just comfortable doing things like this, you know? He probably just </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">assumed</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> he was invited,” I said, attempting to break the tension. I wasn’t as confident as I sounded, but what would worrying about it accomplish? I was already emotionally taxed and the calm that cooking had given me was long gone. I simply had no more room to fret over a presumptuous coworker. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah, I guess,” said Tom, sounding unconvinced, but willing to drop the subject for now. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Together we carried the meal out to the others and set the fare out on the round oak dining table that my brother had made for Mother’s day nearly five years back. Fankie pulled out another bottle of wine and we drank, using mason jars for wine glasses, and dug into the meal. Tom and I imbibed copiously, regailing the others and each other with rehashed tales of our past exploits and the daring deeds of our youths. As we grew more inebriated, I began to share other stories. Ones about my family and the years that we had spent there on the property. I told them about how my brother and I had built the treehouse during that long-ago summer. About how my mom had finally gotten the hang of caring for the fruit trees in the orchard and how this led to us opening a small roadside stand where neighbors and strangers alike would stop and buy peaches, pears, cherries, apples, and–one year–raspberries. I told them about how Jake had built that stand out of pallet wood and fence posts, the first signs of his almost preternatural skill at woodworking and carpentry showing itself at the young age of 13. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The bottle was polished off–Tom and I being the main receptacles into which its contents had been poured. Mark produced a case of suds and we both happily accepted his offer to share. I continued recounting tales of the good days. As I wended my way further and further down that highway of the past, an ache began to grow in my heart. Not the intolerable pain of grief and guilt that I had been feeling for the last few days. Rather, it was a sweet and reflective thing, like when you are standing next to a blazing hearth and are </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">almost</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> too warm, but you don’t quite want to step away. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was completely lost in my reminiscence when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I glanced up to see Frankie giving me a warm smile. For the second time that day I realized that my face was damp. I quickly wiped my eyes dry with my sleeve. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s okay, Fran,” I said, totally forgetting the fact that she loathed being called </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Fran.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> “Sorry, for rambling on like that.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She laughed gently at me. “Don’t be sorry. It sounds like you had some really great times here. It’s important to hold onto that.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We finished up our drinks and, at a volume that only the very drunk themselves are unaware of, Tom announced that it was about time they hit the road. I showed him and Frankie to the door and Tom and I shared an embrace.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“My guy,” he said to me, a slight slur slipping into his words. “I know this is bad. And it’s going to keep being bad. But you still have people who love ya. I’m always here for you, brother.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Frankie helped guide him out the door after reassuring me that she had only one glass of wine, and would be fine on the road. I watched as they pulled away in Tom’s old Toyota Forerunner, its taillights shrinking away into the night, like twin lanterns on a departing train.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After the lights had disappeared completely, I inhaled a deep breath of night and closed the door gently. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As I turned away from the doorway, there was Mark standing before me with a wry grin playing across his face. Both his hands contained one of the beers from the case he had brought, one outstretched towards me.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hey, there buddy. Let’s toast to your bro and ma.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I accepted the lukewarm can and we brought them together, me rather more clumsily than I had intended. The liquid sloshing out and running down my wrist. I paid it no mind. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“To my family,” I whispered, the alcohol blending my words together like a smudged charcoal sketch. “I hope…that I was able to bring them some kind of happiness while they were here, and that…” Here I paused for a moment, tilting my head up to keep the tears from breaking their surface tension. “And that there is some place like here where I will be able to meet up with them again.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We both took a long pull from our drinks, Mark managing to finish his is a single go. I was so full of booze at this point that I could only get about halfway through mine. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Following the summary execution of his beverage, Mark, in one smooth and practiced motion, enthusiastically threw his can to the pine floor and stomped it flat.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hell yeah, bud! It’s time for you to let off some </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">steam!”</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I finished off the rest of my drink and was feeling the effects of the evening’s libations in earnest. But Mark’s energy had a certain efficacy that, in my state of mind, was not only intriguing, but infectious. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What do you have in mind?” I said, the slur in my voice growing more pronounced with every word.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mark walked back to the sofa and began gathering the armory he had produced. As he pulled each arrow from the cushion, little bits of white fibers littered the floor. In the moment, I needed to close one eye to focus on the objects he held, but the same inhibition that marred my sight also put me in a state of mind beyond caring. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Follow me.” He opened the front door and strode out into the virgin blackness of the new night. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I padded after him, doing my best in a zig-zagging way to keep pace. He made an arrow straight trail towards the orchard, stopping at about fifty feet from the nearest trees. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Tell me,” he said, while the light of the distant cabin played across his sharp features. “Have you ever shot a bow?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">In my muddled state, I needed to think about the question for some time before I was able to answer.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Nah, not really. I mean…I shot a bit when I was in the scouts, I guess.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well buddy, I am here to tell you that there is no better way to get those shitty feelings out of your system than to release a few of these here shafts.” While he spoke, he drew arrow after arrow and drove the shafts into the earth before him, forming a neat grid of vertical lines before himself. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Now give this a watch,” he said, after penetrating the soil with the final arrowhead. Striding over to the first row that he had laid out, he plucked it from the ground and knocked it in his bow. Drawing it back, he spoke to me, not turning, eyes focused.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Lowest branch, third tree on the left, second row.” With that, he released. My drunken vision took a moment to catch up. Once my squinted eye managed to process the image before me, I saw that his indicated target did indeed have an arrow embedded deep within the branch’s flesh. Genuinely impressed, I gave him an appreciative nod when he turned to me with a cocked brow. There was, however, a piece of me somewhere beneath the inebriation, that felt both displeased and disturbed by the violation of the growing life in the orchard. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mark’s smile was wide as he said to me, “See, man? Put a bow in my hand and a target to shoot, and I’ll give you one stuck motherfucker.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He proffered the weapon towards me with a manic glint in his eyes. “Go ahead, bud. Give it a go.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I looked at the bow–two of them, in fact–and waved him off. “I’m good, man. You go ahead. I’m impressed.” With that, I felt the ground meet my ass with a thud. I tried playing this off as intentional and put out an elbow to lean back with intentional nonchalance. My head was swimming in earnest now. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He shrugged and turned, raising the bow once more after knocking another arrow. I closed my eyes against the sharp whisper of arrow after arrow disappearing into the trees. After lowering myself down supine and firmly ensconcing myself into the cool of the grass, I looked up. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The myriad stars whirled above me in a kaleidoscopic array, that turned the spins of a night of excessive drink into a performance. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The very universe danced above me. I imagined the celestial figures were stepping in time to a sad and somber dirge, speaking of loss and pain. A song of the inescapable flow forward through the ages. A dance that spoke of those left behind in the glacial march of eternity. They danced for my family– snagged by stray roots in the stream of fate, me left to float upon its whim, unable to swim against the current. They danced for Tom and for Frankie, whose trajectory, blessedly, crossed my own from time to time. And they danced for all those things that are too large for us to contain, or to process, no matter the width or depth of the spring that carries us forth. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">With these muddled musings on my mind. I allowed my lids to lower and unconsciousness to claim me in her soft claws.</span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was drawn from the sea of sleep by the smell of fresh ash. My eyes opened on a sky, now obscured by roiling billows of white smoke. I watched, uncomprehending, as whorls and eddies drifted above me. Slowly and with confusion, I sat up and attempted to take in the scene before me. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">About twenty feet away from where I lay was a makeshift fire pit, crackling merrily. Around the flame there lay scattered many empty cans which glinted in the fire’s light. My sleep addled mind was trying to process how this small blaze was producing so much smoke. I rose unsteadily to my feet, then cast my gaze about. Only then did I see the full scope of the situation. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There, out in the orchard there were at least a dozen trees aflame. My eyes widened and my mouth fell agape at the sight. Those had been the peach and cherry trees, my childhood favorites. Memories of gathering fruit with my mother flashed through my mind, brighter and hotter than the flames that now seemed to consume them. I was paralyzed. A part of my mind was screaming at me to get the garden hose, to call 911, to do anything at all besides stand there agog at the scene of destruction playing out before me. I could not heed those screams. My body was frozen by the sheer idea that this was happening. A place that had seemed to be an immutable and fundamental constant in my life was being destroyed in mere minutes before my very eyes. My gaze turned like a lazy susan operated by some phantom hand and landed on Mark. Silhouetted in the dancing light, he stood like a demon wreathed in smoke and shadow, bow raised with a fiery arrow knocked. He let loose. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I saw the arch of the shaft fly far through the air. My eyes followed its trajectory against my will and saw it land squarely on the outer wall of the treehouse Jake and I had constructed all those years ago. Mark turned towards me at the sound of my voice. It was only then that I realized I was shouting.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What?? What is this?” Was all I could get out, gesturing helplessly at the carnage before me. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">His expression at my outburst was one of confusion. It was quickly replaced as a wide grin split his face. Even now I remember through the haze that his smile seemed too wide, his teeth too sharp. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“My guy! You’re finally up!” He responded jovially. “Check it out, man! This place is all yours now and we can go </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">wild.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">” He gestured towards the blazing orchard and did a strange little jig. I could only stare, unable to respond.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Check it out!” He said, quitting his dance and grasping the final arrow in the lineup. He cradled the shaft in his bow and lowered the tip into his makeshift firepit until it caught the infectious flame. He raised his weapon and let loose once more. Again, the arrow landed on the treehouse. It was beginning to burn in earnest. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Fuck yeah!” Mark hooted in triumph. “Totally get ‘er!”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I could feel the heat of the myriad fires dry my eyes before any tears could escape. Without a word, body seeming to function of its own accord, I turned and strode toward the cabin. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hey, bro! Where you going? Party’s just getting started!” I heard Mark shout at my back. I could no more turn to face him than I could stop my feet from carrying me forward. All executive functions had ceased and I let the momentum of my body carry me away. As I made my way along, I realized–through the haze–that it was not the cabin that my legs were aiming for, but my old Ford Ranger parked before it. In that moment, I tripped on a couple of singed logs along my path and fell face first into the dirt. I heard Mark’s laugh from across the field. Standing and brushing myself off, I looked down at the obstacles before me. My brain recognised two sections of trees, one peach, one cherry. Without knowing why, I scooped them up, one in each arm, and finished making my way to the truck. After depositing them in the bed, I climbed into the cab and drove away from the scene, mind still a blank, Mark’s laughter still echoing in my skull.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Part 1: The Way of Wood</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was laying on the floor of the sea, deeply ensconced in that twilight void between sleep and consciousness.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> A current of crimson extended tendrils of light from above my supine form and gently cradled me, lifting me slowly from the clean and sandy bed, deep beneath the crashing waves. For eons, an ocean’s worth of silence had been my sole companion. I weakly struggled against the force carrying me from its comforting and suppressive pressure. My wrestling against that force increased the light’s voracity and I was propelled to the surface with greater and greater speed. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I broke the surface and my eyes flew open then immediately squinted shut again in automatic response to the sun streaming through the window of my apartment. My hand shot from beneath the covers of its own accord and scrambled along the surface of the nightstand, finally finding purchase on my phone. Bringing the screen to my face, I slowly allowed my lids to rise and pressed the side button to see what fresh new terrors the device could bring to the virgin morning.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The first revelation was that it was not, in fact, morning at all. The numerals on my home screen indicated that it was 3:00 pm. The dark afternoon of the soul. Well past time for me to have been at work. Additionally, the various icons at the top of the display indicated numerous calls, texts, and–horror of horrors–</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">voicemails</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">. No doubt these were in regards to my severe tardiness. I clicked the side button again, banishing all worldly obligations into the realm of that black mirror.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I sat up, body still on autopilot, and stretched. Through those crackling groans that welcome us all when we roll out of whatever particular nest we call home to our slumber, I felt that strange weakness flush through my system–at once a complaint and a call to action. My face-down-phone let out another inane jingle. I immediately seized one of the dishes from my side table–in this case some long since used bowl from some late night ramen feast–and slammed it over the black rectangle. As if I could trap and suspend my responsibilities like a bug beneath a jar. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I sat up and gazed blearily at the state of my bedroom–clothing, clean and dirty alike, had collected around the edges and corners like leaves against a chain-link fence. Food wrappers and dishes from late night meals littered the various horizontal surfaces. And, there was a tidy collection of empty beer cans on the floor beside my bed, the beginnings of a pyramid in evidence. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s bad. Yes. But not yet hopeless. A few trash bags and a laundry hamper will go a long way to start,” I thought. Then, like an unexpected draft of air from a storm-drain, my body’s odor hit my nostrils. My nose crinkled and my eyes closed. “Shower first.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Gathering a few acceptably clean items from the floor, I strode out towards the bathroom with the confidence of someone who is ready to tackle every problem, but the one perched directly in front of them. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Thirty seconds later I strode back in and snatched my phone from beneath the bowl. How could I be expected to properly forget my problems without a little bit of Willie Nelson?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The following hours of that afternoon were spent in a blissful state of overhaul. I raked the clothing up and deposited basket after basket into the communal washing machine to the sounds of Arcade Fire. I swept microwave dinner boxes and half-empty packages of chips into large black garbage bags, as the voice of Lou Reed serenaded me. I deconstructed the pyramids as Niel Young spoke about the plight of Ordinary People, all the while carefully allowing my ears to slip around the sounds of notifications on my phone. They eventually subsided. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I used the final sheets from the roll of paper towels to wipe the mysterious glaze of some long-congealed spill from the far corner of my faux-wood linoleum. Tossing the used rag in the general direction of my garbage bag, I stood–hands on hips–and surveyed my progress. What was before me was a spartan, but now sparklingly clean, approximation of a bedroom. I felt generally satisfied with my efforts, but somehow specifically depressed with the results. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">So, seeking to outclimb my thoughts I set my sights on yet higher peaks of domestic duties. Scooping my remaining cleaning supplies up into my arms, I about-faced and marched toward my next target of assault, one that was sure to provide ample amounts of cleaning-based exploits.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Paper towels and spray bottle in hand, I rounded the corner and was not disappointed with the state of my kitchen. That is to say, a part of me was deeply disappointed with the state I had let it achieve, while another part of me delighted in the distraction afforded by the stacks of dirty dishes and the corners filled with unidentifiable detritus. I took in the sight and formed a battle plan.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There are, as most people who have worked in kitchens know, certain procedures when it comes to cleaning with efficiency. The first step in this order of operations is to start passive tasks first. If you have access to a dishwasher, load it and start the cycle, so that the machine is doing its job, leaving you free to proceed to step two; cleaning non-floor surfaces in descending order based on elevation. This would be your cupboards and countertops. Start with just a damp rag. Get all those dry crumbly bits out, and don’t bother trying to catch the debris in your hand and throwing it in the garbage. No, just let gravity pull that shit down to the next terrestrial plane. Once you’ve completed the dry run, give it a wipedown with paper towels and the cleaning agent of your choice–I am am usually in favor of three parts warm water to one of white vinegar, but you do you. At this point your surfaces my be sufficiently clean, however, if stubborn congelations persist, have at it with a sponge and dish soap, then repeat the paper towel step. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">So, now you have clean counters and storage surfaces. Your next step will be to do your hand wash dishes (this may be all your dishes, if you live sans dishwasher). Hopefully you didn’t need to be told to have organized your dirties in neat stacks in/around your sink, if you haven't done so already, do so now. Lay out a clean and absorbent material on the right hand side of your sink and start in on that stack. Do </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">not</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> dry your cleaned dishes with a kitchen towel. They will air dry quicker than you think, and the towel dry method is outdated and unsanitary. Now, you should be warned, this is the step that will be the most difficult to start. It is usually the most daunting, disgusting, and depressing (depending on how you have been eating, which, by the state of your kitchen, is in a matter most sad). However, this is when you employ the power of audio content–pick your poison, I will not judge. Find an audiobook, podcast, or album that will distract you enough from your recent life choices enough to erase them with dish soap, but not distract you enough to excuse you from the task at hand. Just be aware that this is where the most elbow-grease is required, providing that you don’t get any of those proverbial oils on your soiled pots and/or pans. Lipid removal is what we are going for here. You may have slopped some soapy water and burnt bits of foodstuffs around the work area during the hand-washing process. Do not let this distract you, simply reapply the paper towel method one last time after you finish. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Once you complete this step, take one back to survey your progress so far. The results, at this point, should be somewhat encouraging. You are more than halfway to the summit, but don’t lose your momentum–the greatest pitfalls lay closest to the peak.*</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">You are likely, at this point, tempted to move onto the floor. After all, your socks have probably picked up a fair amount of crumbs and other mysterious miniscule bits of texture that you are now beginning to feel through the thin fabric of whatever off-brand foot-beanies you bought six months ago. The dampness resulting from the previous step is, no doubt, exacerbating this discomfort, may have you squirming to call this kitchen clean and go peel off your grimy sole-sacks. Be strong my friend. There are still loads of laundry to do and the kitchen floor is not done with its abuse. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The next step should be obvious. But it’s not. “The sink!” You say, “It’s time to apply the Ajax, the Comet, the Bar-Keepers Friend!” You say, and while I applaud your taste in dry powdered bleach products, the babtismal font of kitchen implements has not yet fully fulfilled its function. There is one task, not physically, but perhaps even more emotionally arduous than your despicable drift-catch of dishes. I had arrived at just this stage in cleaning my kitchen when the last dying notes of Radiohead’s </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Fake Plastic Trees </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">sounded out the end of my cleaning playlist, leaving me standing and staring at a purple refrigerator.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span></p><div><br /></div></span>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-25490652109576675532013-11-19T16:51:00.002-08:002013-11-20T11:40:30.747-08:00Corridors and Question Marks<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Last
night I had a peculiarly vivid dream. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What
a way to begin a story, huh?</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
found myself in a long, dim corridor. Well, I suppose dim isn't quite
the right word. The lighting was cozy. There were plain, but elegant
lamps at regular intervals down the hallway. Between these fixtures
were dark, oak doors—pretty heavy ones by the looks of it. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
stuck my hands in the pockets of my grungy levis and meandered down
the length of the corridor looking at the doors as I passed. The
floor was made up of old looking wooden planks, well worn, but not a
creak sounded as I placed my weight on them. I thought this was odd,
but it didn't worry me too much. I felt uncharacteristically relaxed
walking down the musty hall. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">On
each of the doors was a cheap looking gold plaque, at about eye
level—like you would see in an old office building. I looked at the
first door I passed and read the sign. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>INVESTMENT
RETURN</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
looked at the ornate brass handle below the sign (strangely it was at
the center of the door) and thought about turning it. But the rising
tension in my shoulders made me feel differently—decisions always
seem to make me tense up. So I continued my walk.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
read the sign of each door I passed</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>TALENT,
INHERITANCE PROPERTY, OPTIMAL FITNESS, CAPITAL GAINS, ENLIGHTENMENT,
BEAUTY, REVOLUTION</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Those
are a few that I can remember. I recall reaching the end of the
corridor where the last, heavy door stood. This one merely displayed
a large question mark. Of all the doors I had seen, this was the most
tempting. But I didn't feel bored, so I turned away. Before
proceeding back down the hallway, I paused and looked at the door to
the left. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><i>CLEAN
SOCKS & UNDERWEAR</i></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Without
hesitation I entered. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Inside,
the room was much like the hall I had just left. Except it was large
and square. Two lamps upon each of the four walls lit the room rather
well and in the center was a well worn wooden table. Upon this was a
neatly folded set of Hanes tag-less boxer briefs and a pair of socks.
I was disproportionately delighted. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I
immediately striped off my garments and replaced my stretched and
worn underwear with the fresh cotton boxers on the table. A perfect
fit. I quickly did the same with my socks—which were riddled with
holes and sweat and dirt. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">That's
when I woke up. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The
first thing I noticed was a neatly folded set of socks and underwear
sitting on my bedside dresser. At first I was astonished. <i>Who
could have put these here? </i>I wondered. Had a breach between the
dream world and reality been created? Was this one of those times
where you think you've woken up, but you are actually still dreaming?</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Then
I remembered that I had put them there the previous evening—like I
always do. I laughed it off and pulled on the clean, though somewhat
worn, undergarments.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Looking
out the window facing the foot of my bed, I saw the morning light
playing through the branches of a tree standing just outside. For a
moment I was startled, the shadows on the pane looked exactly like a
gigantic question mark. I closed my eyes and shook my head like an
old cartoon character. When I lifted my lids, the illusion was gone. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Just
my imagination.</span></span></div>
Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-61208418934514716132013-01-12T19:13:00.000-08:002013-01-12T19:13:15.163-08:00Esoteric MusingsIt's gets far too complex for interpretation at this point. To create you must simplify your reality to the level of your skill. Skill comes far more slowly than understanding.Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-32979371762719095162012-06-23T17:09:00.001-07:002012-06-23T17:09:12.788-07:00<span lang="EN">I am a traveler<br />
<br />
<br />
I am a shut in,<br />
<br />
I am the wise man,<br />
<br />
I am the village idiot,<br />
<br />
I sail upon this infinite,<br />
<br />
ever expanding,<br />
<br />
ever shrinking sphere,<br />
<br />
the turbulence of my soul tilts,<br />
<br />
and rocks my fragile vessel which,<br />
<br />
as my weathered old uncle<br />
<br />
with palms that could have been the bark<br />
<br />
of some ancient tree<br />
<br />
from some past life once told me,<br />
<br />
this hull and these sails are my constant savior,<br />
<br />
the only thing between my self,<br />
<br />
and between the eternal sea of all,<br />
<br />
and even as this thought touches my thoughts,<br />
<br />
the ship melts and is taken by the ocean,<br />
<br />
which swallows me and I swim in it,<br />
<br />
breathing in the water, filling my lungs with this strange liquid,<br />
<br />
this liquid of simultaneous life and death,<br />
<br />
and I am very far,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
the stars whirl past me as these words extend forth into the incomprehensible<br />
<br />
all of everything and nothing,<br />
<br />
It is too much<br />
<br />
I search for the void,<br />
<br />
a hole in space, time, and soul that I might slip through into beyond the black,<br />
<br />
I see it approach and pull me in,<br />
<br />
my pace quickens down this corridor,<br />
<br />
the door-less entrance into less than nothing is at hand and I am about to step through,<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
when I feel your eyes on my back,<br />
<br />
and before I can even turn,<br />
<br />
I am home. </span>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-50156862513872151322012-05-16T10:04:00.002-07:002012-05-16T10:31:17.274-07:00Ownership of the Experience<span style="font-family: inherit;">Ownership is (in my opinion) an illusion, save for in one respect and this respect is in the instance of experiences. Experiences as experienced by individuals are the one thing that in all practical senses belong to those individuals. This is not in spite of the fact that there's nothing physical to own, but rather because of this fact. To claim ownership over anything physical is ridiculous because of the impermanence of this "ownership" and of the impermanence of the physical itself. However, experiences--whether chosen by the individual or not--are the only thing that no one else can access, take away or share in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The irony of the system of society in which we live is that the majority of most peoples experiences consist of running around trying to grab more and more of the physical, all the while trying to hold on to everything they have previously picked up.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PLgAVcRKsNc/T7PjzAEGKMI/AAAAAAAAADw/SpV4EOHMJ7Y/s1600/junk+lady.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PLgAVcRKsNc/T7PjzAEGKMI/AAAAAAAAADw/SpV4EOHMJ7Y/s200/junk+lady.png" width="143" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Liberation from this vicious cycle consumerist ouroboros comes with this realization that physical ownership is <i>in fact</i> an illusion. At this point we can stop, as <i>Fight Club</i>'s Tyler Durden puts it, "<em style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; line-height: 17px;">working</em><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"> jobs </span><em style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; line-height: 17px;">we</em><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"> hate so </span><em style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; line-height: 17px;">we</em><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"> can buy shit </span><em style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; line-height: 17px;">we</em><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17px;"> don't need."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nbDP2OnUcoc/T7Pj1oDL4QI/AAAAAAAAAD4/ZAGZ0N95HlU/s1600/603px-Serpiente_alquimica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="198" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nbDP2OnUcoc/T7Pj1oDL4QI/AAAAAAAAAD4/ZAGZ0N95HlU/s200/603px-Serpiente_alquimica.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5GIfD5WJOYU/T7Pj4GRr5hI/AAAAAAAAAEA/xBe8ZZh5EUY/s1600/FC+Finale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="137" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5GIfD5WJOYU/T7Pj4GRr5hI/AAAAAAAAAEA/xBe8ZZh5EUY/s320/FC+Finale.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">In other words, we need to reclaim ownership of the experience and </span><span style="line-height: 17px;">transcend</span><span style="line-height: 17px;"> the system so that we can begin our purposeful and meaningful </span><span style="line-height: 17px;">existence.</span><span style="line-height: 17px;"> </span></span>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-25589178125747350922012-01-21T10:38:00.000-08:002012-01-21T10:44:35.386-08:00A Threefer and More CriticismThe following are my reviews of the three most recent movies I have watched. Enjoy.<br />
<br />
The Ladykillers- A Coen Brothers, not quite classic but still dark, fun filled, yarn.<br />
<br />
If you enjoy Tom Hanks as a southern gentleman criminal reading the poetry of Edgar Allen Poe, then you will enjoy this movie. Meaning? You'd be hard pressed to find any by the end of this film, but the simple story fills the movie's time surprisingly well and I was never caught wondering how much longer I had to go. I must say though, that the only thing that allows it to carry itself so well is the characters and their quarks.<br />
***<br />
<br />
Cassandra's Dream- A Woody Allen thriller/brothers film, weird.<br />
<br />
Alright, let's try and look at this movie objectively. It's a hard thing, for me at least, to do with any Woody Allen film. The plot is basically a character study of two brothers who get themselves into a dark and messy situation and how they separately react to the events that follow.<br />
<br />
The best thing to be said of the film is that it builds tension throughout the first half better than almost any movie I've seen, but about two-thirds the way into the film I was beginning to wonder when it was all going to end--at this point the film had reached an odd sort of "dragging tension." Also, it lacked much insight into the relationship between brothers, which was disappointing because his insights into different relationships is Woody Allen's foremost quality (in my opinion).<br />
<br />
in all, worth watching if you love seeing Woody Allen movies for the sake of seeing Woody Allen movies.<br />
***<br />
<br />
The Fountain- A humorless quasi-meta triptych of a movie.<br />
This film is notorious for lacking any sort of middle ground for critics. They either love it or hate it. Oddly, I find myself able to see the movie from <a href="http://groveland.spps.org/uploads/ch930606.gif" target="_blank">both points of view</a>, which is a bit crippling.<br />
Anyways, the general idea of the film consists of a mish-mash of Christian/Mayan/Taoist myth and ideology that interweaves itself throughout three separate story-lines going on, which all (it could be argued) consist of the same two characters, but never quite "touch."<br />
<br />
It is--like it sounds--a pretty precariously balanced story, fraught with all sorts of potential pitfalls. However, is this not always the case when a movie enters new territory? And, for all that could have gone so horribly wrong, they maneuver the film with excellence through the dark clouds.<br />
<br />
One thing you may notice in the movie is that it is completely humorless. Not a single funny moment story-wise, not even one joke that breaks the seriousness of the mood for even a moment. Now, usually I would hate this in a film, but here it works well. In fact, had they tried some comic relief it would have just been awful. All this isn't to say there isn't happy moments in the movie, certainly much of it is touching and here in it lies the films secret strength: it moves you emotionally, in many directions.<br />
<br />
So, overall I give this film the thumbs-up. Not because it was flawless, but because it ventured into new territory which is something that so few films do today. Along with that, Hugh Jackman doesn't hurt anything either.<br />
****<br />
<br />
Well, kids! That was fun, so until next time, I bid you farewell,<br />
<br />
Film Critic #1313Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-70558354719469985172012-01-18T10:57:00.000-08:002012-01-18T11:01:02.097-08:00To You, Mr. Man With a Spray-Paint CanNear the vicinity of my home there have been a few works of "graffiti" recently added to the shopping carts and cigarette butts which decorate the streets. Now, I have no qualms with those who consider the world their art gallery, but--as it is with any artist who displays his or her work--they open themselves up to criticism, which is now being passed, by me.<br />
This graffiti artist has left two of his or her musings along the sidewalk. One reads, "All is one..." and with this one I have no quarrel. The other reads, "When all is said and done, have you said and done enough?" and it is with this one that I have the proverbial "bone to pick."<br />
Number one: Did you get this phrase from someone's Facebook status? Because that's the impression that I'm getting.<br />
Number two: The only time when <i>all </i>is said and done is when your dead, and then it doesn't really matter how much you said or did, does it?<br />
Number three: I remain a firm believer in quality over quantity (except where American currency is concerned).<br />
In summation, I suggest to <i>you</i> Graffiti Artist, that you spend a little more time at WikiQuote before again venturing forth to desecrate public property.<br />
<br />
Sincerely yours,<br />
<br />
Public Art Critic #1313Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-40010490550156143102012-01-18T10:36:00.000-08:002012-01-18T10:37:15.098-08:00Fargo and the Need to Categorize Everything, Even Art<div style="text-align: left;">A word to the wise about the debate--one of the favorites among film dilettante --as to who the protagonist is in the film <i>Fargo</i>: if you're having a hard time fitting something into your structure it might be because your structure isn't as universal as it is conveniently believed to be.</div>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-37835157736518147902012-01-04T11:32:00.000-08:002012-01-04T11:41:53.754-08:00Shameless PromotionHey, peoples. My wife has an awesome online store for to sell her projects and artwork. Everyone who hasn't should <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/Stacie013?ref=si_shop" target="_blank">check it out!</a> It's mostly geared toward the lady-types and I'm almost positive that most everyone who reads this blog is a dude, so a reminder that nothing wooes the ladies like buying them stuff.Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-42112112283524335482011-12-05T09:18:00.000-08:002011-12-05T09:18:53.530-08:00What I'd Like to KnowWhat the hell is wrong with a nice white picket fence?Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-15950825407937907022011-11-18T09:25:00.000-08:002011-11-18T09:25:12.816-08:00A Conclusion<div class="MsoNormal"> The world’s a fucking shit-hole. The really sick part is that we’re born with the capacity to conceive something better; I guess you could say that makes this place hell. The only thing to do is to try and be kind.</div>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-9080883917185414242011-11-14T13:07:00.001-08:002011-11-14T13:07:29.374-08:00In Summation<div class="MsoNormal">There is no doubt in my mind that the gargantuan audience is still watching from their perch From which they also spy the leaves</div><div class="MsoNormal">That caress the faces of the inevitable sirens of solace and silence and solitude </div><div class="MsoNormal">Without which the poets and the writers would be reduced to mere flickers </div><div class="MsoNormal">On the screen that is the walls of my small studio apartment </div><div class="MsoNormal">In the avenues of this city of light and darkness </div><div class="MsoNormal">Which every city in this great and monstrous country will claim to be at intervening intercourses in the interstellar maze of haze and pottery glaze </div><div class="MsoNormal">The wonderment of the stars without me peers down through the glory holes of the mall stall</div><div class="MsoNormal">The beanies and the braids mingle together under the umbrella of primetime television </div><div class="MsoNormal">And utter despair at the confusing cosmos and burning effigies of the soul </div><div class="MsoNormal">With this last dark night I will let this lone man stand un-judged and alone </div><div class="MsoNormal">In as true a peace as anyone might ever know </div><div class="MsoNormal">At least through the frames of my thin nearly unnecessary spectacles </div><div class="MsoNormal">Through which I also perceive eternity from my own small pinhole </div><div class="MsoNormal">In a black piece of cardstock </div><div class="MsoNormal">In my tiny third grade chair</div>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-69034651250217655822011-03-30T18:41:00.000-07:002011-03-30T18:41:17.167-07:00Stuffy Stuff StuffYou never realize how much stuff is made until you try looking for something slightly obscure. Just try looking for a certain type of side table online, it will send you reeling into a transcendental angst faster than you can say "Google Shopping."Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-35154252551140145502011-02-24T17:08:00.000-08:002011-03-01T22:23:38.486-08:00An American's anxiety In the movie <i>Citizen Kane </i>Charles Foster Kane speaks a line that I find very appealing, "I'm an American, I've always been an American."<br />
<div> This quote always made me feel a terrific sense of profound <i>belonging. </i>I'm not talking about having the American dream or a flag waving, star spangled sense of tear-jerking, fourth-of-July national pride. I'm referring to the national identity one gets from them and their family having been born in a certain place with a certain culture and attitude. There is something I find not wholly undesirable about this part of my person.</div><div> However, I have an overwhelming feeling, that if I am to ever discover the true essence of myself and thereby create something with at least a little beauty, I must first get rid of any notion that I am anything but myself and that any word-able identifiers apply to my soul in any way. </div><div> I think that I ought to listen to the intuition which formed the latter paragraph on the grounds that any sense of nationality inevitably leads one to estrange themselves from the part of humanity which does not reside in the plot of land which marks their country, but I do not believe I will ever be able to fully shake from my psyche the American label, at least not in this life.</div>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-3386862685330487842011-02-07T20:42:00.000-08:002011-02-07T20:42:24.356-08:00Here We Go<div style="text-align: left;"> The first order of business here, before I officially return from what might be called a hiatus of sorts, is to dedicate this post to Patrik--you may blame or give credit to him for this blogs shaky return to its somewhat oafish feet.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Now! With a fresh paragraph I mark it official and with this marker comes the second order of business, which happens to be to get to the point of this post. Sadly, this is easier said than done, for there are many incoherent apparitions of thoughts that are manifesting themselves in my mind, but which when I attempt to take hold of and put down in plain English, fail to translate into anything except pure, literary fluff. These reflections have led me to the conclusion that I have no choice except to write on the nature of my reflections themselves, the format of which is this blog itself. I am aware that I have once already written a post on blogs and that one should only be alloted one of his medium in that medium, for if one reflects on his or herself too much I am a firm believer that they will eventually turn themselves inside out and the world will see them for what they really are, which happens to be nothing at all, and they will promptly disappear forever.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> It turns out that all I really have to say is that those of you who know the flesh and blood me are aware that my speech is nothing like my writing here. This concerns me slightly, because I consider myself one who always stands for real content from a person and when I detect a facade of any sort I usually denounce the work of the poor individual as utterly worthless. However, this writing, however obnoxious (and however many self deprecating comments I make) is from my soul which I offer to you. I close with an appropriate quote which also happens to be the quote for which this blog is named.</span></div><br />
"One's identity ought not to be comprised of things which they don't partake in. It also ought not to be <br />
reflecting those things of which we seem to emphatically take part in. The whole idea of a personality is almost entirely for the benefit of others. The truth is we are all incoherent enigmas who do not know ourselves--anyone who did is more than likely no longer continuing to cycle through this life."<br />
-Author UnknownSheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-89206721230083603772010-10-12T15:36:00.000-07:002010-10-13T08:33:53.537-07:00Equal ConsiderationSome would like to dismiss consideration for any sentient being that isn't human because it's lower cognitive abilities, or it's allegedly more limited emotional spectrum. But I would argue that equal <i>consideration</i> for all sentient beings should not be dependent on the mental or physical capabilities of the being.<br />
Those who would argue the former point would mostly likely be inconsistent by the fact that they would likely consider the happiness and/or wellbeing of a mentally retarded human, but not that of an animal.Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-24182128089984051902010-09-30T21:12:00.000-07:002010-09-30T21:12:51.934-07:00fashion as a fetter<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">There was a time for me (and I suspect for all of us) when I was unaware of "fashion," in reality it was more that I didn't care about it; I knew what I thought looked good, but I was okay with going to school or what-have-you wearing clothing that was regular, generic or plain so long as it was reasonably clean. It wasn't a choice not to care, it simply was natural for me not to be overly interested in it; if it had been a choice, then I would have cared, just in a different way.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Anyways, now days things are different. I do care about the styles, what is new, what is edgy, what is redundant and what is over with. But I'd be okay with all that, if only it didn't permeate every activity I did. Too often I gauge the coolness of an activity by how cool it looks not only that, but I also often judge the legitimacy of a thing by the how aesthetically pleasing it's setting and people are. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">This is developing slowly into something which Buddhism might call a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fetter_(Buddhism)">fetter</a>, (something which stops you from reaching enlightenment and ties you to suffering) it might sometime prevent me from seeing the truth in a thing because of that things hipness or lack of hipness. I think I know the answer to reversing this process though. I need to immerse myself in something that I care greatly about. Consciously spend more thoughts on a passion.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I want to state that despite all this I am not anti-fashion, I simply think that something used mainly to impress others could ever worth <i>that </i>much time.</span></span><div><br />
</div></div>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-72693260768791500582010-07-27T00:15:00.000-07:002010-07-27T00:15:54.561-07:00To Quote a Friend: "A Blog, About Blogs"Okay, okay. I know I <i>just </i>now posted, but whilst doing so a thought came into my head that I don't feel like saving to share later. It's small, coarse and perhaps endearing enough to be suspicious, but that's everything a blog post should be, right? Which brings me right into the matter at hand.<br />
Blogs are such an interesting format for people to be channeling their thoughts into. Blogs are seemingly uncommon and-of-the-way enough that when we write in them we are confident that readers and friends won't venture from the downtown of facebook and texting far enough to reach the suburbs where our blogs reside and so we take on a certain amount of intimacy and sincerity with our reader (which we are sure will never come), that we lack in our status updates and photo comments.<br />
Yet we have not wholly forgotten that we are on the <i>internet</i> for heavens sake, we do not go so far as to cross the threshold into diary land (at least not most of us) and it is this which makes blogs so wonderfully different from so many other writing outlets. The idea that someone <i>might</i>, that someone conceivably <i>could </i>search out or stumble across our stash of harvested thoughts, it is this which gives us the feeling of obligation to keep our posts coherent, somewhat relevant and organized. It is also this possibility that keeps us posting and attempting to keep our posts fresh, interesting, and intelligent. It's exciting to wonder who our ghost audience might be and to try and prompt them into giving comments and starting discussion.<br />
Yep, blogs sure are crazy. I think what it comes down to is that we humans like to be peeked in on. We actually kind of <i>want</i> people to see us somewhat exposed, and for many people, their blog is a window, through which they bring to light, perhaps not their deepest and darkest,but certainly many of their more abstruse thoughts,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px;"> hoping a few people might be spying in on them.</span>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-62349015558688132272010-07-26T23:38:00.000-07:002010-07-26T23:38:05.795-07:00Perhaps a Little Too Snobbish a Thing to SayMany people are in the habit of having notions that they want to believe so much that they just build their philosophy around--or subscribe to a philosophy that fits well with--these notions. I am going to tentatively point this out as a typical habit in "western" thinking.<br />
Another way of pointing this out would be to say, we typically feel a great amount of guilt for a great amount of the things that we do, but rather than change these things we would seek to justify them, in such marvelously ingenious ways, that we come out fooling even our own selves.Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-65015755581812824772010-07-20T23:07:00.000-07:002010-07-21T00:50:38.880-07:00An Apology or: How I learned to stop being frustrated by Wikipedia's cursory articles (on art and literature) and recognize them as manifestations of my high probability of enjoying the art, on which those certain articles had been writtenAt times I find myself exceedingly frustrated when I hear or read about a film, book, or any piece of art that I find worth looking into, but upon turning to Wikipedia, I find that the article cannot adequately explain whatever it is that I am looking up! My mentality at these times usually goes something like this,<br />
<div>"I'm a busy man! I need to know what art is worth spending my time on! And G-D-it, Wikipedia, it's your job to help sort it out for me!"</div><div>It's ironic (and worth noting) that I simultaneously can think this and also understand that any piece of art that I am personally likely to classify as "great" will capture a concept in a way that will not be able to be explained adequately and will only be fully understood upon viewing and comprehending the piece itself.</div><div>In other words, the things that I find "inadequately" explained on Wikipedia (I say "things" meaning art) are likely to be the things that I will most enjoy. So I apologize, Wikipedia, for thinking that you were slacking off. Keep up the good work.</div>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-39324675997391239022010-06-28T23:25:00.000-07:002010-06-28T23:25:46.908-07:00Objectivism and Torch Bats<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">To make a long story short, a little over two years ago I read Ayn Rand's <i>Anthem</i> in Elventh Grade English. This was my first introduction into any "real" philosophy and the extreme individualist ideas portrayed in the book fit well with all my afore made conclusions--in which, I think it is appropriate to mention, my conservative background played no small part. Needless to say, I quickly latched on to Objectivism (the philosophy founded and taught by Ayn Rand)--and being, at the time, an even more avid reader than I am now (if it is possible)--I rapidly devoured all of Ayn Rand's fiction in no time, washing them down with many an objectivist essay.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">As I'm sure any one of my friends will tell you, at this time I was an insufferable zealot who tried, at every opportunity, to shove in some sermon on "rationality" or "the importance of selfishness" into the casual conversation or heated forum debate. However, after a matter of months my zeal subsided and I stopped searching out youtube philosophy wars and objectivist celebrities. Since this time I have researched and have become acquainted with many philosophies and my readings have strayed far and wide from the straight and narrow that John Galt would like to have seen me walk, however, like the old, faded and long outgrown aquabats tee shirt hanging in my closet, I cannot bring my self to simply discard it and walk away.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Maybe it's fond sentimentality towards my first philosophic harbor, maybe it's the time and energy that was invested in it that makes it hard for me to drop it for good, or maybe I think that it's still good for something: that there's still some life left in it. I think that I had a thought just now that sums it up perfectly, this connection that I still feel with my objectivist roots comes from the fact that I don't really want to lead a John Galt or Howard Roark life, but I would like to live in a world where someone could, if they liked.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I think it is also worth mentioning here that I saw the afore mentioned tee shirt being worn by my little brother this morning, maybe someday he'll pick up The Fountainhead too.</span></span>Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-50400452575889332592010-06-22T08:47:00.000-07:002010-06-22T08:47:16.487-07:00Haiku #1The boy on the bike<br />
as I mowed the new grass<br />
looked back at meSheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3365129541179936939.post-45217757076126948602010-06-18T08:34:00.000-07:002010-06-18T08:34:30.998-07:00Cover that coverThis is a plea to book publishers everywhere; a plea for you to stop ruining perfectly good books with awful book covers. Look, I know that it's superficial and ridiculous of me, but I have and will continue to judge books by their covers and when, the other day, I traveled to the local book store and saw one of my favorite books with a horrendous cover, I thought of all the poor people who may never read that book just because of some photoshopped fire behind a silhouette. So once more I am imploring that if you are in doubt about what to wrap a book with, just stick a blank white cover on it, with the title and author printed neatly in black on the center.<br />
Thank you.Sheahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12550306918502157800noreply@blogger.com2