I've just finished reading the first book of those given to me by the kindly stranger in the coffee shop a month ago. It took me a bit longer than I'd have liked, because I became quite busy in the meantime. I chose to read first the one book that my coffee-drinking, Vonnegut-appreciating friend recommended most highly: Steppenwolf. He urged me to read the author's preface (added in a 1960 reprinting) and cautioned me thoroughly against romanticizing the Steppenwolf's persona or lifestyle. I'm preparing in my mind a letter to write in response to him in which I set out to make the point that it's perhaps admissible to sympathize with the character, for all his similarity.
At any rate, as I've taken to doing with all books I read starting in January of this year, I kept a collection of favorite excerpts as I came across them. I began to worry by the third, fourth, or fifth excerpt if I might be better off just writing the entire story down and calling that my excerpt. Every turn of the page found another bit of exquisitely written narrative that left me no choice but to read it multiple times until I'd had my fill of it. There is no unifying element among the excerpts; some are profound, while others simple yet wonderfully written. If you have hopes of someday reading the book and are weary of my unintentionally revealing to you crucial plot points, then be assured that these excerpts do not explicitly reference the plot, although if you are clever enough you could perhaps deduce one thing or another.
A word of praise should also be said for the translator, Basil Creighton. I suppose that a portion of my enjoyment of the story's tone and style could be attributed to his pen, but on the whole I have to admit that at many times I forgot entirely that I was reading a story originally written in German.
(34) And this too was odd: that somewhere in a green valley vines were tended by good, strong fellows and the wine pressed so that here and there in the world, far away, a few disappointed, quietly drinking townsfolk and dispirited Steppenwolves could sip a little heart and courage from their glasses.
(35) Could I be altogether lost when that heavenly little melody had been secretly rooted within me and now put forth its lovely bloom with all its tender hues?
(36) Oh, if I had had a friend at this moment, a friend in an attic room, dreaming by candlelight and with a violin lying ready at his hand! How I should have slipped up to him in his quiet hour, noiselessly climbing the winding stair to take him by surprise, and then with talk and music we should have held heavenly festival through the night!
(58-59) Man is not capable of thought in any high degree, and even the most spiritual and highly cultivated of men habitually sees the world and himself through the lenses of delusive formulas and artless simplifications—and most of all himself. For it appears to be an inborn and imperative need of all men to regard the self as a unit. However often and however grievously this illusion is shattered, it always mends again. The judge who sits over the murderer and looks into his face, and at one moment recognizes all the emotions and potentialities and possibilities of the murderer in his own soul and hears the murderer's voice as his own, is at the next moment one and indivisible as the judge, and scuttles back into the shell of his cultivated self and does his duty and condemns the murderer to death. And if ever the suspicion of their manifold being dawns upon men of unusual powers and of unusually delicate perceptions, so that, as all genius must, they break through the illusion of the unity of the personality and perceive that the self is made up of a bundle of selves, they have only to say so and at once the majority puts them under lock and key, calls science to aid, establishes schizomania and protects humanity from the necessity of hearing the cry of truth from the lips of these unfortunate persons. Why then waste words, why utter a thing that every thinking man accepts as self-evident, when the mere utterance of it is a breach of taste? A man, therefore, who gets so far as making the supposed unity of the self two-fold is already almost a genius, in any case a most exceptional and interesting person. In reality, however, every ego, so far from being a unity is in in the highest degree a manifold world, a constellated heaven, a chaos of forms, of states and stages, of inheritances and potentialities. It appears to be a necessity as imperative as eating and breathing for everyone to be forced to regard this chaos as a unity and to speak of his ego as though it were a one-fold and clearly detached and fixed phenomenon. Even the best of us shares the delusion.
(65) Man designs for himself a garden with a hundred kinds of trees, a thousands kinds of flowers, a hundred kinds of fruit and vegetables. Suppose, then, that the gardener of this garden knew no other distinction than between edible and inedible, nine-tenths of this garden would be useless to him. He would pull up the most enchanting flowers and hew down the noblest trees and even regard them with a loathing and envious eye. This is what the Steppenwolf does with the thousand flowers of his soul.
(97) Eternity is a mere moment, just long enough for a joke.
(111-112) But it's a poor fellow who can't take his pleasure without asking other people's permission.
(128) Every day new souls kept springing up beside the host of old ones, making clamorous demands and creating confusion; and now I saw as clearly as in a picture what an illusion my former personality had been.
(143-144) Before all else I learned that these playthings were not mere idle trifles invented by manufacturers and dealers for the purposes of gain. They were, on the contrary, a little or, rather, a big world, authoritative and beautiful, many sided, containing a multiplicity of things all of which had the one and only aim of serving love, refining the senses, giving life to the dead world around us, endowing it in a magical way with new instruments of love, from powder and scent to the dancing show, from ring to cigarette case, from waist-buckle to handbag. This bag was no bag, this purse no purse, flowers no flowers, the fan no fan. All were the plastic material of love, of magic and delight. Each was a messenger, a smuggler, a weapon, a battle cry.
(164-165) As a marionette whose thread the operator has let go for a moment wakes to new life after a brief paralysis of death and coma and once more plays its lively part, so did I at this jerk of the magic thread throw myself with the elasticity and eagerness of youth into the tumult from which I had just retreated in the listlessness and weariness of elderly years. Never did sinner show more haste to get to hell.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Can I Get a Witness?
This evening I was at Locals Only with a few friends. Upon arriving, one of them immediately noticed the collection of art displayed on the wall that was for sale. He commented that he really liked them and appreciated their cartoony quirks. I agreed that they were pretty cool. He mentioned the one that he liked the most, coincidentally the biggest one of the bunch.
He spent the evening debating with himself about whether he should buy a piece. He questioned aloud what we thought the prices would be for original art. I said I had no idea. He asked if they would take card or cash. I said I have no idea. He asked if he bought it, if we thought he could just take it home tonight. I said I have no idea. He did a brief survey of the area and reported back on some of the prices. He declared that the one he wanted was $100; he thought that was a bit too steep.
A bit later he informed me that a smaller piece that resembled it but was in no way as cool was only $50. He said he thought he'd just get that one. He disappeared and returned in a bit with a piece of paper declaring him the proud new owner, and he said that he was supposed to just take it with him when he left.
I asked him why he didn't buy the one he wanted. He said the price was just too much. I told him that he's buying a piece of original, hand-made art that he won't find anywhere else; and he's going to settle for one other than the one that he wanted? He repeated that $100 was just too much for him. I said that he is doing just fine money-wise (he is gainfully employed, more than I can say for myself), and that for him spending $50 or $100 on this art was not a drastic difference when it came to pleasing his aesthetic sense. I said that days, weeks, months, years from now, he won't regret spending the money. He'll be happy that he bought the art that he wanted. I urged him to do exactly what his heart was tellling him; he knew which piece he wanted, but he was going to deny himself of it entirely. I told him that a very powerful thing I had learned over the past year or so was to follow your god damn heart when you should, and to do what you know is right without questioning it. He wanted that art the moment he saw it, and it should not be otherwise.
This went on for several minutes. He said he didn't know if he could since he had already bought the one. I told him there's no way he can't just walk up and say "here's more money, please and thank you". His will was cracking. He was beginning to listen to the voice inside him telling him what he wanted. He begrudgingly agreed to go try, saying "if it'll make you happy." I shouted "no, it will make you happy! That's the whole point!"
He disappeared and came back a few minutes later with a grin on his face and a piece of paper declaring him the proud new owner of the one he fell in love with at first sight. I could tell that he was secretly and very truly, somewhere deep down beyond the reaches of the rational and intellectual recesses of his brain, happy. And those of us who were with him were happy to see him happy! He thanked me for helping him to realize what he should do. I'm glad I did. And I'm glad he did. It was awesome getting him to the point at which he would allow himself to pursue that which would bring him such great happiness.
He spent the evening debating with himself about whether he should buy a piece. He questioned aloud what we thought the prices would be for original art. I said I had no idea. He asked if they would take card or cash. I said I have no idea. He asked if he bought it, if we thought he could just take it home tonight. I said I have no idea. He did a brief survey of the area and reported back on some of the prices. He declared that the one he wanted was $100; he thought that was a bit too steep.
A bit later he informed me that a smaller piece that resembled it but was in no way as cool was only $50. He said he thought he'd just get that one. He disappeared and returned in a bit with a piece of paper declaring him the proud new owner, and he said that he was supposed to just take it with him when he left.
I asked him why he didn't buy the one he wanted. He said the price was just too much. I told him that he's buying a piece of original, hand-made art that he won't find anywhere else; and he's going to settle for one other than the one that he wanted? He repeated that $100 was just too much for him. I said that he is doing just fine money-wise (he is gainfully employed, more than I can say for myself), and that for him spending $50 or $100 on this art was not a drastic difference when it came to pleasing his aesthetic sense. I said that days, weeks, months, years from now, he won't regret spending the money. He'll be happy that he bought the art that he wanted. I urged him to do exactly what his heart was tellling him; he knew which piece he wanted, but he was going to deny himself of it entirely. I told him that a very powerful thing I had learned over the past year or so was to follow your god damn heart when you should, and to do what you know is right without questioning it. He wanted that art the moment he saw it, and it should not be otherwise.
This went on for several minutes. He said he didn't know if he could since he had already bought the one. I told him there's no way he can't just walk up and say "here's more money, please and thank you". His will was cracking. He was beginning to listen to the voice inside him telling him what he wanted. He begrudgingly agreed to go try, saying "if it'll make you happy." I shouted "no, it will make you happy! That's the whole point!"
He disappeared and came back a few minutes later with a grin on his face and a piece of paper declaring him the proud new owner of the one he fell in love with at first sight. I could tell that he was secretly and very truly, somewhere deep down beyond the reaches of the rational and intellectual recesses of his brain, happy. And those of us who were with him were happy to see him happy! He thanked me for helping him to realize what he should do. I'm glad I did. And I'm glad he did. It was awesome getting him to the point at which he would allow himself to pursue that which would bring him such great happiness.
Bake Sale Bomber
I saw this yesterday on a bumper sticker:
Still, I think this is an incredibly narrow-minded and naïve thing to say. The person who proudly displays this on his or her bumper apparently doesn't realize that if the Air Force really did have to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber, our entire country would likely be invaded or destroyed. No more schools.
I understand that there is a very real problem with funding for education in America. And I also understand that many people don't always support the militaristic endeavors of the country. But opposing one idea by vehemently and irrationally supporting its logical opposite is not constructive. It's like saying on a blazing hot summer day that you can't stand the heat and wish it were below freezing instead. When it's actually that cold, you'll say you wish it were hot as hell again. Now you've gotten nowhere.
The real solution is somewhere in between. That's the difficult part. But people with bumper stickers like these don't help at all.
Okay, I have to admit that the bumper sticker could mean that this so-called great day comes when the entire notion that a country without a military defense would be invaded or destroyed no longer exists, that some kind of Utopian peace has prevailed. If that's the gist of it, then okay, yeah, that would be a great day. If the bumper sticker is knowingly referencing a completely farcical and highly unlikely situation, then I could almost live with it. It's like saying "hey, wouldn't solid gold toilets for everyone just be great?" Yes, that would be great.
The problem now is that we're touching on a deeper topic, and we start to address things like the necessity of evil. Consider that for all the multitude of kindness and altruism, there will likely always be an element of ill will present in human nature, and it manifests itself in a variety of ways, from someone telling you that you're ugly to armed forces invading countries and purging an entire people. That's evil. For every good soul in a coffee shop who bequeaths fifty of his most beloved books, there is another still who wants to steal them. This evil is prevalent. Without it, how will you know what is truly good?
You can't define or know anything without being cognizant of its logical opposite. What is warm water? It's water that is not cold. What is on? It's the opposite of off. It's the way you understand how delicious an apple tastes or how fun it is to drive a fast car or why sex feels great. You understand these values because you are also aware of their absence. If you were constantly eating apples or driving fast or having sex, you would likely tire of them all.
If there were ever to come a day in which the civilizations of this planet are not engaged in disagreement and war of some kind, it will be far enough in the future that we will have made contact with an alien species (or vice versa) and our entire planet will be united in war against them instead. The reason I can safely make this assumption is based solely on the necessity of evil. There will always be a bad guy, and it will only cease to be us when another option presents itself.
So the Air Force not arming itself makes about as much sense as not locking your doors at night, or leaving your valuables on the front lawn while you're away, or tattooing your Social Security and bank account numbers on your forehead, or leaving your children with complete strangers while you're out in public. Trust in humanity resolutely? Willing to take these risks? Do you think the person with the bumper sticker would?
The solution is somewhere in the middle, and that's the difficult part.
It will be a great day when our schools get all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber.Now, I am by no means a pro-war kind of person. I don't drive a Hummer around with American flags draped across the windows, drinking PBR, shouting at the top of my lungs about kicking ass and so forth. I'm a pretty peaceful guy, and I believe that the first resort should always be open dialog, not open war.
Still, I think this is an incredibly narrow-minded and naïve thing to say. The person who proudly displays this on his or her bumper apparently doesn't realize that if the Air Force really did have to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber, our entire country would likely be invaded or destroyed. No more schools.
I understand that there is a very real problem with funding for education in America. And I also understand that many people don't always support the militaristic endeavors of the country. But opposing one idea by vehemently and irrationally supporting its logical opposite is not constructive. It's like saying on a blazing hot summer day that you can't stand the heat and wish it were below freezing instead. When it's actually that cold, you'll say you wish it were hot as hell again. Now you've gotten nowhere.
The real solution is somewhere in between. That's the difficult part. But people with bumper stickers like these don't help at all.
Okay, I have to admit that the bumper sticker could mean that this so-called great day comes when the entire notion that a country without a military defense would be invaded or destroyed no longer exists, that some kind of Utopian peace has prevailed. If that's the gist of it, then okay, yeah, that would be a great day. If the bumper sticker is knowingly referencing a completely farcical and highly unlikely situation, then I could almost live with it. It's like saying "hey, wouldn't solid gold toilets for everyone just be great?" Yes, that would be great.
The problem now is that we're touching on a deeper topic, and we start to address things like the necessity of evil. Consider that for all the multitude of kindness and altruism, there will likely always be an element of ill will present in human nature, and it manifests itself in a variety of ways, from someone telling you that you're ugly to armed forces invading countries and purging an entire people. That's evil. For every good soul in a coffee shop who bequeaths fifty of his most beloved books, there is another still who wants to steal them. This evil is prevalent. Without it, how will you know what is truly good?
You can't define or know anything without being cognizant of its logical opposite. What is warm water? It's water that is not cold. What is on? It's the opposite of off. It's the way you understand how delicious an apple tastes or how fun it is to drive a fast car or why sex feels great. You understand these values because you are also aware of their absence. If you were constantly eating apples or driving fast or having sex, you would likely tire of them all.
If there were ever to come a day in which the civilizations of this planet are not engaged in disagreement and war of some kind, it will be far enough in the future that we will have made contact with an alien species (or vice versa) and our entire planet will be united in war against them instead. The reason I can safely make this assumption is based solely on the necessity of evil. There will always be a bad guy, and it will only cease to be us when another option presents itself.
So the Air Force not arming itself makes about as much sense as not locking your doors at night, or leaving your valuables on the front lawn while you're away, or tattooing your Social Security and bank account numbers on your forehead, or leaving your children with complete strangers while you're out in public. Trust in humanity resolutely? Willing to take these risks? Do you think the person with the bumper sticker would?
The solution is somewhere in the middle, and that's the difficult part.
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
People Who
1. People who buy you a drink (or dinner, or whatever) and then remind you of the fact that you owe them shortly thereafter, probably just before you were about to return the favor.
Come on, at least give me the chance first. Getting reminded of it feels like you sent my secretary an invoice for tax purposes. It cheapens the entire gesture and makes you look like a selfish tool. If it has been like a month, then sure, by all means, remind me.
2. People in cars who intentionally splash walkers and bikers during rainy weather.
You know who you are. You're all going to hell. Seriously. It's about as funny as a punch in the face, which I'll give you the next time I see you.
3. People who say "I'm gonna let you go now" on the phone.
This is such a conveniently simple way to politely condescend; it conveys the perfect mixture of "my time has become too valuable for you" and "I'm trying to come off as humble but I'm actually quite conceited". Anytime I'm told this, I immediately say "I'm gonna let you go." Take that.
If you don't get the condescension that is inherent in this statement, you're probably one of the people who say it.
4. People who say "oh, you didn't want any, did you?"
This is the worst! It's practically synonymous with "this is really good, but I do not want you to have any, because I'm too greedy." It's bad enough to not even offer, but this is even more offensive. Maybe it's the Hobbit within me, but I believe in hospitality between friends. When you stop by to hang with me for a bit at my place, you can feel entitled to more or less anything in the pantry, what little there may be, and there may be very little, like right now; I hope you like oatmeal.
5. People who slow clap when an employee at a restaurant or bar drops and breaks a dish or glass.
As if the poor individual weren't already embarrassed enough! Who elected this person Almighty Destroyer of Souls? If you have a keen eye, you will notice that this douchebag never claps as such when the malady occurs within sight; it's only in the relative safety of anonymity from across the room that he (or she) feels completely free to express his (or her) inner bastard.
Come on, at least give me the chance first. Getting reminded of it feels like you sent my secretary an invoice for tax purposes. It cheapens the entire gesture and makes you look like a selfish tool. If it has been like a month, then sure, by all means, remind me.
2. People in cars who intentionally splash walkers and bikers during rainy weather.
You know who you are. You're all going to hell. Seriously. It's about as funny as a punch in the face, which I'll give you the next time I see you.
3. People who say "I'm gonna let you go now" on the phone.
This is such a conveniently simple way to politely condescend; it conveys the perfect mixture of "my time has become too valuable for you" and "I'm trying to come off as humble but I'm actually quite conceited". Anytime I'm told this, I immediately say "I'm gonna let you go." Take that.
If you don't get the condescension that is inherent in this statement, you're probably one of the people who say it.
4. People who say "oh, you didn't want any, did you?"
This is the worst! It's practically synonymous with "this is really good, but I do not want you to have any, because I'm too greedy." It's bad enough to not even offer, but this is even more offensive. Maybe it's the Hobbit within me, but I believe in hospitality between friends. When you stop by to hang with me for a bit at my place, you can feel entitled to more or less anything in the pantry, what little there may be, and there may be very little, like right now; I hope you like oatmeal.
5. People who slow clap when an employee at a restaurant or bar drops and breaks a dish or glass.
As if the poor individual weren't already embarrassed enough! Who elected this person Almighty Destroyer of Souls? If you have a keen eye, you will notice that this douchebag never claps as such when the malady occurs within sight; it's only in the relative safety of anonymity from across the room that he (or she) feels completely free to express his (or her) inner bastard.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Basic Principle of Travel/Stay Proportionality
Postulate
Let t be an amount of time spent traveling to a destination, be it a friend's house or a different city, by any means of transportation (e.g. walking, biking, driving, flying). For travel durations exceeding five minutes, the amount of time (S) spent at the ultimate destination shall be no less than three times the total time spent traveling one-way to said destination:
Derivation
For a traveling/visiting/vacationing experience to be deemed pleasurable, we must ask ourselves if the total time spent moving from one location to another and back to the original location exceeds the total time spent at the new location, and whether this time investment has yielded satisfying returns. Considering the round-trip travel duration (r), logically assumed to be 2t, barring any route or itenerary changes for the return trip, a stay duration also equal to 2t would indicate that exactly as much time was spent seated motionless in a car, for example, as was spent enjoying the sights and sounds of the destination.
Let t be an amount of time spent traveling to a destination, be it a friend's house or a different city, by any means of transportation (e.g. walking, biking, driving, flying). For travel durations exceeding five minutes, the amount of time (S) spent at the ultimate destination shall be no less than three times the total time spent traveling one-way to said destination:
S ≥ 3t
Derivation
For a traveling/visiting/vacationing experience to be deemed pleasurable, we must ask ourselves if the total time spent moving from one location to another and back to the original location exceeds the total time spent at the new location, and whether this time investment has yielded satisfying returns. Considering the round-trip travel duration (r), logically assumed to be 2t, barring any route or itenerary changes for the return trip, a stay duration also equal to 2t would indicate that exactly as much time was spent seated motionless in a car, for example, as was spent enjoying the sights and sounds of the destination.
r = 2t
For the traveler's satisfaction in the trip to be sufficiently high enough, half as much again must be spent at the destination, yielding 3/2. This number is known as the Farnhoff-Wickam-Gert Quotient, and it is commonly understood to be the threshold at which travel becomes pleasurable:
It is also understood that any additional time spent at the destination is beneficial; therefore any number that matches or exceeds the Farnhoff-Wickam-Gert Quotient is deemed acceptable.
Practical Applications
1. Walking to your neighbor's house to return a borrowed tool.
If it takes less than five minutes, there is no requirement for the duration of the visit. You may return the borrowed tool and depart at your leisure. But feel free to stay and chat about the weather or compliment your neighbor's lawn.
2. Driving across town to hang out with friends.
If you are driving 10-20 minutes across town, and everyone decides within five minutes of your arrival that the group will be moving to a different location, the trip has not been worth your time. A travel duration of 10 minutes requires at least half an hour of hanging out; 20 minutes of travel requires a minimum of one hour.
3. Driving across the country to visit family or vacation in a new city.
If you drive 12 hours in a car to your destination, you should not spend less than three days there. If you spend three days driving from one coast to the other, you should not spend less than nine days there.
Conclusion
The Basic Principle of Travel/Stay Proportionality is a powerful tool when planning a trip of any kind. Use it wisely, and you can begin to reap the benefits of a pleasurable lifestyle.
3/2r
3/2(2t)
3t
We resubstitute 2t for r and reduce:
3/2(2t)
3t
It is also understood that any additional time spent at the destination is beneficial; therefore any number that matches or exceeds the Farnhoff-Wickam-Gert Quotient is deemed acceptable.
S ≥ 3t
Practical Applications
1. Walking to your neighbor's house to return a borrowed tool.
If it takes less than five minutes, there is no requirement for the duration of the visit. You may return the borrowed tool and depart at your leisure. But feel free to stay and chat about the weather or compliment your neighbor's lawn.
2. Driving across town to hang out with friends.
If you are driving 10-20 minutes across town, and everyone decides within five minutes of your arrival that the group will be moving to a different location, the trip has not been worth your time. A travel duration of 10 minutes requires at least half an hour of hanging out; 20 minutes of travel requires a minimum of one hour.
3. Driving across the country to visit family or vacation in a new city.
If you drive 12 hours in a car to your destination, you should not spend less than three days there. If you spend three days driving from one coast to the other, you should not spend less than nine days there.
Conclusion
The Basic Principle of Travel/Stay Proportionality is a powerful tool when planning a trip of any kind. Use it wisely, and you can begin to reap the benefits of a pleasurable lifestyle.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Place to Be (Nick Drake)
I learned this song earlier today and I've been playing it almost nonstop; I just can't get enough of it. Pink Moon has quickly soared to the top of my list for all-time favorite albums, and I hope to learn more of it, if not the whole thing (the actual goal). This was the best of five takes; I probably played it twenty times before noon alone and I should have just recorded one of those. Oh well.
When I was young, younger than before
I never saw the truth hanging from the door
And now I'm older, see it face to face
And now I'm older, gotta get up, clean the place
And I was green, greener than the hill
Where flowers grow and the sun shone still
Now I'm darker than the deepest sea
Just hand me down, give me place to be
And I was strong, strong in the sun
I thought I'd see when day was done
Now I'm weaker than the palest blue
Oh so weak in this need for you
When I was young, younger than before
I never saw the truth hanging from the door
And now I'm older, see it face to face
And now I'm older, gotta get up, clean the place
And I was green, greener than the hill
Where flowers grow and the sun shone still
Now I'm darker than the deepest sea
Just hand me down, give me place to be
And I was strong, strong in the sun
I thought I'd see when day was done
Now I'm weaker than the palest blue
Oh so weak in this need for you
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Externalization of an Inner Monologue
Here is the most recent song I've finished writing. It's in a very different style for me, but I'm not censoring myself. If something stylistically different comes out, I'll let it. I'm calling this one "Externalization of an Inner Monologue". There are a few minor flubs, but it was the best of five takes, and that's all I'm good for right now.
God damn her for finding me
I thought that I was finally free
I thought that there would be no second chance
But no amount of miles could ever be
Enough to try and put between
A lover and the love he never even had
It's bad enough to look for love
With no hope of ever being a part
Of the kind you write songs about
With the hope of breaking somebody's heart
I should have known not to trust
Myself or anyone that I know
I've already gone too far
No amount of careful advice
Can lead to love or save someone's life
If he's not looking and doesn't want to be found
There's no such thing as honesty
Or not the kind that I was hoping to find
It takes a while to get it through
To know they're finally listening to you
I wrote this song behind the wheel
Of a grave made of two tons of steel
But I'm sleeping now in a concrete bed
And I can't tell if this is even real
It's bad enough to look for love
With no hope of ever playing the part
In the kind you wrote songs about
But there's still hope of breaking some poor girl's heart
So god damn you for finding me
God damn her for finding me
I thought that I was finally free
I thought that there would be no second chance
But no amount of miles could ever be
Enough to try and put between
A lover and the love he never even had
It's bad enough to look for love
With no hope of ever being a part
Of the kind you write songs about
With the hope of breaking somebody's heart
I should have known not to trust
Myself or anyone that I know
I've already gone too far
No amount of careful advice
Can lead to love or save someone's life
If he's not looking and doesn't want to be found
There's no such thing as honesty
Or not the kind that I was hoping to find
It takes a while to get it through
To know they're finally listening to you
I wrote this song behind the wheel
Of a grave made of two tons of steel
But I'm sleeping now in a concrete bed
And I can't tell if this is even real
It's bad enough to look for love
With no hope of ever playing the part
In the kind you wrote songs about
But there's still hope of breaking some poor girl's heart
So god damn you for finding me
This is an April Fools' Day joke
This entire post is a joke; it is being written in observation of April Fools' Day. Do not believe anything contained within.
Today is April 1, the day of merry pranks and jokes. To that end, I am posting this in the hopes of catching some of you unawares. A portion of you will read this and know that it is all a prank; you will have likely also read pranks and jokes on other websites. But chances are high that a majority of you will read through this entire post and not realize the irony or humor contained within, and you may even tell a few friends about it before you realize the error of your ways. At that point, you may feel slightly embarrassed. Don't worry, it's all in the nature of the joke.
I can't take all the credit for catching you unawares. I had ample help preparing for this deception. Several of my closest friends were indispensable in the labyrinthine planning stages of this elaborate spoof. We spent hours going over the details, and now that you have been sufficiently taken for a ride, I can safely admit their involvement. If some of you feel cheated or deceived, please take your frustrations out on me and not them, as they were kept mostly in the dark about the eventual purpose of their machinations.
To those who may suppose that posting such a farcical tale of whimsy as this would perhaps discredit future writings of a more serious nature, you need not worry. I assure you that this preposterous and comedic anecdote is the only one of its kind.
Today is April 1, the day of merry pranks and jokes. To that end, I am posting this in the hopes of catching some of you unawares. A portion of you will read this and know that it is all a prank; you will have likely also read pranks and jokes on other websites. But chances are high that a majority of you will read through this entire post and not realize the irony or humor contained within, and you may even tell a few friends about it before you realize the error of your ways. At that point, you may feel slightly embarrassed. Don't worry, it's all in the nature of the joke.
I can't take all the credit for catching you unawares. I had ample help preparing for this deception. Several of my closest friends were indispensable in the labyrinthine planning stages of this elaborate spoof. We spent hours going over the details, and now that you have been sufficiently taken for a ride, I can safely admit their involvement. If some of you feel cheated or deceived, please take your frustrations out on me and not them, as they were kept mostly in the dark about the eventual purpose of their machinations.
To those who may suppose that posting such a farcical tale of whimsy as this would perhaps discredit future writings of a more serious nature, you need not worry. I assure you that this preposterous and comedic anecdote is the only one of its kind.
Monday, March 29, 2010
The Tale of the Bat
It has recently come to my attention that a great multitude of people, friends inclusive, have never heard this timeless tale told in full. I now present the entire story of the bat, as it was recorded in the days of old, with a few minor edits for clarity.
How the Entire World Was Saved In The Span of 15 Minutes
1. Of the Coming of The Beast
This is the tale of how a peaceful, rocking household was once disrupted by the most malicious and evil of all creatures. It begins as a summer day is drawing to a close, when the air is yet warm and thick. The heroes of our story are those of the band Jonas, though you will come to know them by name.
In the beginning, there was Greg, who dwelt in his private bedchambers in the Realm of Jonas. Ere he slept, he was troubled by an unseen spectre in the cloudiness of that which rocking guitar players dream of. Startled, he awoke in a sweat, and made his way clumsily in the dark, for he purposed to relieve himself in his gilded washroom.
But he did not wholly come to his destination, for along his path he descried from afar the flutterings of a winged creature of foul design. Quickly it darted to and fro, hither and thither, this way and that. Then it seemed to Greg that this creature was not like to anything he had thus seen in his realm:
Black as night it was, and colder still; its eyes were diminutive lamps, far off in the murky dusk. Swiftly it moved across the kitchen, for that is where it had been making its hiding, and perched confidently upon the water tap, and the gleaming silver was cast in a deepening twilight.
Cautiously, Greg moved closer to investigate the unwanted visitor. At this the beast reared its ugly shape and called out in a manner of song most unpleasant to those within earshot. Thus with great speed Greg passed out of that domain and sought the help of friend and ally.
In the beginning, there was Greg, who dwelt in his private bedchambers in the Realm of Jonas. Ere he slept, he was troubled by an unseen spectre in the cloudiness of that which rocking guitar players dream of. Startled, he awoke in a sweat, and made his way clumsily in the dark, for he purposed to relieve himself in his gilded washroom.
But he did not wholly come to his destination, for along his path he descried from afar the flutterings of a winged creature of foul design. Quickly it darted to and fro, hither and thither, this way and that. Then it seemed to Greg that this creature was not like to anything he had thus seen in his realm:
Black as night it was, and colder still; its eyes were diminutive lamps, far off in the murky dusk. Swiftly it moved across the kitchen, for that is where it had been making its hiding, and perched confidently upon the water tap, and the gleaming silver was cast in a deepening twilight.
Cautiously, Greg moved closer to investigate the unwanted visitor. At this the beast reared its ugly shape and called out in a manner of song most unpleasant to those within earshot. Thus with great speed Greg passed out of that domain and sought the help of friend and ally.
2. Of the Mustering of Men
Far off in another land, the lore of which this tale does not concern, Drew rested upon his mighty throne and there sat, as one in thought, and did not move for many an hour. An open book lay upon his lap and, but for the gleam in his eye, he could have been mistaken for one who had fallen unwittingly to slumber. But he was not asleep, and he heard far off cries as of one in dire need of service, for hearty was the voice of Greg, and far did it travel in time of need.
Now with great haste he went to meet his ally of old at the entry of his realm. It seemed to Drew that Greg was clothed in a shadow of himself, stricken with madness at the sight of some horror unknown. Thus spoke Greg:
"Holy shit," said he, "there is a bat in the kitchen."
And Drew was troubled. Long he thought and spoke not a word, and ere the sun retired beyond the western horizon he broke his silence. "Let's get Dan!" he cried, and swiftly they rode beyond the wooded hills to the very ends of the earth, whereupon they rested for a time.
When the day was again fresh, Greg and Drew made entry into the halls of Sir Dan of Yore, wisest of loremasters. His lands are forever chill to the skin of men, and upon his throne they spied him wrapped about in many layers of cloth and raiment.
"Old friends, what brings you to far away lands in such dark times as these?" The voice of Dan seemed not his own, but as of one who has lost countless years to the unavailing cold of night.
"We come seeking your favour," answered Greg. "We seek counsel and aide." He bowed low and offered words of respect.
"Yes, I know. A great deal I have already seen in this matter, and yet more still there is that remains unknown to even those who know very much. I will aide you in your quest." Greg and Drew were comforted at receiving this news and their hearts were glad. Dan continued:
"But we three alone do not possess such mortal power and strength as shall be required to accomplish the task. Indeed, no man alone can slay this creature by swift blade or keen wit. We must seek good fortune in a man whose name is remembered by no one save the eldest, but who is called Brian in our speech."
"You speak wisdom and truth," declared Drew. "But few have seen or received word of Brian since this dark age began. His land is far and unreachable by foot or by sail."
"Then we must carry on with what strength we do have," said Greg. "What we lack in numbers we must make up for in skill and cunning."
They spoke no more of the matter but stayed in Dan's realm for a brief while, and when they were again of hearty mind and body they departed.
Far off in another land, the lore of which this tale does not concern, Drew rested upon his mighty throne and there sat, as one in thought, and did not move for many an hour. An open book lay upon his lap and, but for the gleam in his eye, he could have been mistaken for one who had fallen unwittingly to slumber. But he was not asleep, and he heard far off cries as of one in dire need of service, for hearty was the voice of Greg, and far did it travel in time of need.
Now with great haste he went to meet his ally of old at the entry of his realm. It seemed to Drew that Greg was clothed in a shadow of himself, stricken with madness at the sight of some horror unknown. Thus spoke Greg:
"Holy shit," said he, "there is a bat in the kitchen."
And Drew was troubled. Long he thought and spoke not a word, and ere the sun retired beyond the western horizon he broke his silence. "Let's get Dan!" he cried, and swiftly they rode beyond the wooded hills to the very ends of the earth, whereupon they rested for a time.
When the day was again fresh, Greg and Drew made entry into the halls of Sir Dan of Yore, wisest of loremasters. His lands are forever chill to the skin of men, and upon his throne they spied him wrapped about in many layers of cloth and raiment.
"Old friends, what brings you to far away lands in such dark times as these?" The voice of Dan seemed not his own, but as of one who has lost countless years to the unavailing cold of night.
"We come seeking your favour," answered Greg. "We seek counsel and aide." He bowed low and offered words of respect.
"Yes, I know. A great deal I have already seen in this matter, and yet more still there is that remains unknown to even those who know very much. I will aide you in your quest." Greg and Drew were comforted at receiving this news and their hearts were glad. Dan continued:
"But we three alone do not possess such mortal power and strength as shall be required to accomplish the task. Indeed, no man alone can slay this creature by swift blade or keen wit. We must seek good fortune in a man whose name is remembered by no one save the eldest, but who is called Brian in our speech."
"You speak wisdom and truth," declared Drew. "But few have seen or received word of Brian since this dark age began. His land is far and unreachable by foot or by sail."
"Then we must carry on with what strength we do have," said Greg. "What we lack in numbers we must make up for in skill and cunning."
They spoke no more of the matter but stayed in Dan's realm for a brief while, and when they were again of hearty mind and body they departed.
3. Of the Quest of Jonas
The journey across many lands unknown was long and difficult. The supply of food they had rationed for the trip diminished with each passing day. Little life there was, and less water. Occasionally a meal was made of root or blossom and the sap of a young tree not yet stained by the muddy, ageless skies.
"The lands are crying out," uttered Dan. "We are near to the creature." Indeed then, as if by fate, the woods about them grew silent. The air grew dense in anticipation. Nearby a bush rustled, disturbing the tense calm about the land.
"Show yourself, thing of evil, for you make enough sound that I should slay you swiftly with naught the sight of you!" cried Drew into the unavailing silence. There came a laughter, hearty and merry.
"You should be so lucky to have a swing at me at all." Out from behind a tree stepped Brian. The others surrounded him joyfully, and they embraced, and were comforted.
"What good fortune brings you hither into our travels, friend?" asked Dan.
"I have come by news of ill tidings in these parts," answered Brian. "They speak of a lingering darkness, one which circles round in the night, first high and then lower, until even the haughty man is stricken with fear, and he of lesser stature flees in shame."
"Your words ring true, for I have seen this thing with my own eyes." Greg seemed to diminish and his voice was but a whisper in the vastness of the desolate land.
"What hope have we in such dark times?" Drew wondered aloud. "Such devilry as this cannot be matched by mortal means. Perhaps we have come to the end of our days."
"You speak as one who is already defeated," declared Brian. "It is perhaps then because fear has clouded your judgement. Who indeed can withstand the might of this terrible bane? No man can contest its wicked strength, yet look not past strength in bonds of friendship forged long ago. You may find some courage unknown, some hope renewed. We go now not on any simple errand, but on a journey of pain and struggle. The despair of one shall be the doom of all; let he who doubts the power of Jonas go no further!"
At this, the Company set out into the deepening night with heavy hearts.
The journey across many lands unknown was long and difficult. The supply of food they had rationed for the trip diminished with each passing day. Little life there was, and less water. Occasionally a meal was made of root or blossom and the sap of a young tree not yet stained by the muddy, ageless skies.
"The lands are crying out," uttered Dan. "We are near to the creature." Indeed then, as if by fate, the woods about them grew silent. The air grew dense in anticipation. Nearby a bush rustled, disturbing the tense calm about the land.
"Show yourself, thing of evil, for you make enough sound that I should slay you swiftly with naught the sight of you!" cried Drew into the unavailing silence. There came a laughter, hearty and merry.
"You should be so lucky to have a swing at me at all." Out from behind a tree stepped Brian. The others surrounded him joyfully, and they embraced, and were comforted.
"What good fortune brings you hither into our travels, friend?" asked Dan.
"I have come by news of ill tidings in these parts," answered Brian. "They speak of a lingering darkness, one which circles round in the night, first high and then lower, until even the haughty man is stricken with fear, and he of lesser stature flees in shame."
"Your words ring true, for I have seen this thing with my own eyes." Greg seemed to diminish and his voice was but a whisper in the vastness of the desolate land.
"What hope have we in such dark times?" Drew wondered aloud. "Such devilry as this cannot be matched by mortal means. Perhaps we have come to the end of our days."
"You speak as one who is already defeated," declared Brian. "It is perhaps then because fear has clouded your judgement. Who indeed can withstand the might of this terrible bane? No man can contest its wicked strength, yet look not past strength in bonds of friendship forged long ago. You may find some courage unknown, some hope renewed. We go now not on any simple errand, but on a journey of pain and struggle. The despair of one shall be the doom of all; let he who doubts the power of Jonas go no further!"
At this, the Company set out into the deepening night with heavy hearts.
4. Of the Capture of the Beast
It was not long before all store of rations had been consumed. Exhaustion and fatigue caused much delay. "We must have a bit of a break," said Drew, "or I should not live to see the light of another day."
"To call this 'day' would seem a jest," replied Dan. Indeed the skies had grown ever darker as the days passed. The Company had taken to resting at any time, day or night, for day had become a shadow of doubt and night was illuminated in a glow of fear, so that the hours passed in an unrelenting cycle.
In a small clearing of grass surrounded by a field of twig and thatch, and near to a small pool of still water, they rested upon what blankets and cloth they had brought. There was little talk as each weary traveler drifted into uneasy slumber. The dark air creeped closer about them on all sides. They did not sleep long ere all were awoken in a startled fit. The wind was sighing in high whispers, rhythmically pulsing like the gentle droll of the sea. All were silent as the sound grew more intense, until it seemed to each that it came from within their very minds.
There came then a call, which reached out across the skies like deathly cold fingers. The festering beast took wing, and it appeared as though a veil had been drawn about the heavens. A great shadow rolled over the Party, and despair came upon them like a plague. They were quickly scattered as the bat darted among their camp. It reared its hideous muzzle and pierced their minds with merciless eyes.
Now separated by a shout's distance, each drew his weapon and swung blindly in fear at the enemy. Guided by some force unknown, Drew's worthy blade found its way deep into the flesh of the winged creature. The bat cried out in rage but did not halt in its course, borne upon the wind. The hilt of Drew's blade grew very hot then, and he cursed its name:
"O, cruel device! Such heat as I never have known! Such doom be the bane of the Moonpie!"
Dan spied Drew from nearby in his agony. "Drew, release your weapon!" he cried, but his words were of no use. Drew was crouched upon the ground, holding the blade to his chest. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air.
"No," he said slowly. "This blade is mine, and I will do with it as I please. I will wield it until the end of time, until all the earth is grown old and dead! I can never let it go!" His head lolled and his eyes clouded over; his voice continued wearily: "I can never understand...just why...just why we tried..."
On a sudden Greg appeared behind Drew and struck a blow to his forearm. The sword fell from Drew's burning hand and scorched the ground below. Brian kicked the fiery weapon into the shallow pool of water; a light smoke hung in the air. Drew looked about confused. "I am sorry," he said. "I was altogether not myself for a moment."
"Indeed you were not," replied Dan. "But now is not the time for explanations. The winged enemy returns!" Together they spun and faced the looming evil.
"Clearly we cannot hope to defeat this thing with even the sharpest blade, such as we have," spoke Brian. He stooped over his pack and removed from it a broad cloak. "Let each man take firm hold of one corner."
And so the bat raced towards them, cackling and screeching in a wretched tongue. Its fiery eyes pierced each of their minds, one by one, and cast into them visions of agony and death, but the men of Jonas held fast. When the bat was near, they raised up the cloak and, billowing in the wind, it cast a great shadow upon the bat. Swiftly they brought the corners round and drew them tight about the bat.
"Alas!" shouted Greg. "The deed is done." He held the cloak aloft and each man of Jonas tied about it a length of rope. "The earth shall have grown old indeed ere these bonds are broken."
They gathered what was left of their belongings scattered throughout the clearing and departed that dark realm.
It was not long before all store of rations had been consumed. Exhaustion and fatigue caused much delay. "We must have a bit of a break," said Drew, "or I should not live to see the light of another day."
"To call this 'day' would seem a jest," replied Dan. Indeed the skies had grown ever darker as the days passed. The Company had taken to resting at any time, day or night, for day had become a shadow of doubt and night was illuminated in a glow of fear, so that the hours passed in an unrelenting cycle.
In a small clearing of grass surrounded by a field of twig and thatch, and near to a small pool of still water, they rested upon what blankets and cloth they had brought. There was little talk as each weary traveler drifted into uneasy slumber. The dark air creeped closer about them on all sides. They did not sleep long ere all were awoken in a startled fit. The wind was sighing in high whispers, rhythmically pulsing like the gentle droll of the sea. All were silent as the sound grew more intense, until it seemed to each that it came from within their very minds.
There came then a call, which reached out across the skies like deathly cold fingers. The festering beast took wing, and it appeared as though a veil had been drawn about the heavens. A great shadow rolled over the Party, and despair came upon them like a plague. They were quickly scattered as the bat darted among their camp. It reared its hideous muzzle and pierced their minds with merciless eyes.
Now separated by a shout's distance, each drew his weapon and swung blindly in fear at the enemy. Guided by some force unknown, Drew's worthy blade found its way deep into the flesh of the winged creature. The bat cried out in rage but did not halt in its course, borne upon the wind. The hilt of Drew's blade grew very hot then, and he cursed its name:
"O, cruel device! Such heat as I never have known! Such doom be the bane of the Moonpie!"
Dan spied Drew from nearby in his agony. "Drew, release your weapon!" he cried, but his words were of no use. Drew was crouched upon the ground, holding the blade to his chest. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air.
"No," he said slowly. "This blade is mine, and I will do with it as I please. I will wield it until the end of time, until all the earth is grown old and dead! I can never let it go!" His head lolled and his eyes clouded over; his voice continued wearily: "I can never understand...just why...just why we tried..."
On a sudden Greg appeared behind Drew and struck a blow to his forearm. The sword fell from Drew's burning hand and scorched the ground below. Brian kicked the fiery weapon into the shallow pool of water; a light smoke hung in the air. Drew looked about confused. "I am sorry," he said. "I was altogether not myself for a moment."
"Indeed you were not," replied Dan. "But now is not the time for explanations. The winged enemy returns!" Together they spun and faced the looming evil.
"Clearly we cannot hope to defeat this thing with even the sharpest blade, such as we have," spoke Brian. He stooped over his pack and removed from it a broad cloak. "Let each man take firm hold of one corner."
And so the bat raced towards them, cackling and screeching in a wretched tongue. Its fiery eyes pierced each of their minds, one by one, and cast into them visions of agony and death, but the men of Jonas held fast. When the bat was near, they raised up the cloak and, billowing in the wind, it cast a great shadow upon the bat. Swiftly they brought the corners round and drew them tight about the bat.
"Alas!" shouted Greg. "The deed is done." He held the cloak aloft and each man of Jonas tied about it a length of rope. "The earth shall have grown old indeed ere these bonds are broken."
They gathered what was left of their belongings scattered throughout the clearing and departed that dark realm.
5. Of the Journey Home
The next day dawned fair and sweet. The pallid greys of winter were rolled back to reveal a joyous song of colour and light. High above the sun smiled upon all the lands, and a new season was begun. The men of Jonas walked at ease through fields and woods and pastures and hills. They came at last to the Realm of Jonas.
"O, fair Paddington!" cried Drew and he fell to his knees and wept. The House of Jonas stood tall and mighty, unsoiled by the chill of winter. They entered into the great halls and there came the sound of laughter and merrymaking; it was a feast, a celebration.
"Hark to the sounds of fair voices and singing, such as I have not heard for an age," said Brian as they walked. They were greeted by a large host of friends and neighbours, and such a multitude had never been gathered before nor was seen thereafter.
After many old friendships were revisited, all were seated round the table and enjoyed a great feast while the men of Jonas recounted their tale. Some of the youngest grew frightened yet listened on in curiosity. The day grew long and many bottles of the finest draught were emptied ere the story was told, and not the smallest detail was omitted.
"Alas that such dark times as these should befall us all," said one. "Ah, but for the strength of Jonas we should have been nothing but shadows in our fear," spoke another. A silence fell over the room.
"Then we shall drink to good health!" said Greg after a moment. A shout went up and many glasses were drained. The singing and laughter resumed again.
"It is quite a miracle that we are all of good health indeed!" shouted Dan, and there was another cheer. But Drew did not share in the excitement, though none was the wiser in all the commotion. He looked down at the palm of his hand and for a moment he felt again the pain of fire stretching across his skin. He looked up and saw that Dan had noticed. "Or at least, mostly good health," he said to Drew beneath the roar of the party.
"No, I do not suppose I shall ever be quite the same again," replied Drew. "I can still feel the terrible gaze of the bat from within when I close my eyes. But as much as things have changed, I believe there are some things that shall never change."
And in time the many visitors made their departure, and the House of Jonas carried on much the same as ever before. It was not long ere that realm was once again filled with the joyous sounds of a rocking band comprised of four alpha male specimens, the likes of which no woman has not swooned upon.
Here ends the Tale of the Bat.
The next day dawned fair and sweet. The pallid greys of winter were rolled back to reveal a joyous song of colour and light. High above the sun smiled upon all the lands, and a new season was begun. The men of Jonas walked at ease through fields and woods and pastures and hills. They came at last to the Realm of Jonas.
"O, fair Paddington!" cried Drew and he fell to his knees and wept. The House of Jonas stood tall and mighty, unsoiled by the chill of winter. They entered into the great halls and there came the sound of laughter and merrymaking; it was a feast, a celebration.
"Hark to the sounds of fair voices and singing, such as I have not heard for an age," said Brian as they walked. They were greeted by a large host of friends and neighbours, and such a multitude had never been gathered before nor was seen thereafter.
After many old friendships were revisited, all were seated round the table and enjoyed a great feast while the men of Jonas recounted their tale. Some of the youngest grew frightened yet listened on in curiosity. The day grew long and many bottles of the finest draught were emptied ere the story was told, and not the smallest detail was omitted.
"Alas that such dark times as these should befall us all," said one. "Ah, but for the strength of Jonas we should have been nothing but shadows in our fear," spoke another. A silence fell over the room.
"Then we shall drink to good health!" said Greg after a moment. A shout went up and many glasses were drained. The singing and laughter resumed again.
"It is quite a miracle that we are all of good health indeed!" shouted Dan, and there was another cheer. But Drew did not share in the excitement, though none was the wiser in all the commotion. He looked down at the palm of his hand and for a moment he felt again the pain of fire stretching across his skin. He looked up and saw that Dan had noticed. "Or at least, mostly good health," he said to Drew beneath the roar of the party.
"No, I do not suppose I shall ever be quite the same again," replied Drew. "I can still feel the terrible gaze of the bat from within when I close my eyes. But as much as things have changed, I believe there are some things that shall never change."
And in time the many visitors made their departure, and the House of Jonas carried on much the same as ever before. It was not long ere that realm was once again filled with the joyous sounds of a rocking band comprised of four alpha male specimens, the likes of which no woman has not swooned upon.
Here ends the Tale of the Bat.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Anti-Climactic Ending
This evening was interesting. After unexpectedly bumping (quite literally) into an old friend at Yats, I went with a couple other friends to a screening of the new movie How to Train Your Dragon. I thought it was a documentary about how to train dragons; I was partially right. After that we went to Broad Ripple to patronize The Egyptian, but upon arriving we decided we didn't want to wait in a line, so we opted instead to go back to the apartment. We drove across town and wound up hanging out a bit, catching up and discussing life over a sampling of beer and hookah, which make for a splendid partnership. It was enjoyable. Then we watched Up, which I hadn't seen. I thought it was quite good, much better than the evening's earlier animated affair.
Many hours later, at about 3:30 in the a.m. I began the lugubrious task of driving home. I got to the intersection of Kessler & Meridian to find a billowing cloud of smoke, and in the middle of the haze was a stationary car. I paused behind it, while through an entire light cycle a handful of other vehicles passed and went on their merry, early morning ways. I sat and thought about it and decided that I wouldn't just pass without inquiring. I considered the relative safety (or lack thereof) of the situation, and decided that I would approach on his driver's side and let down my passenger window. I did so. My caution meter was at guarded.
The guy in the car—who seemed a bit flustered and perhaps surprised to see someone beckoning him roll down his window—rolled down his window. I asked if he needed to make a phone call; he said he did. I'm not stupid, I'm not putting my phone in this guy's hands, nor am I putting my body within arm's reach of him. Still seated in my car, I pulled out my phone and told him I could inform someone of his location. I asked the number, which he gave me. I paused mid-dial: "Northwest Indiana?" "Yeah!" It was a 219 area code. No answer. "No answer! You want me to leave a message?" I tried another number, also 219; also no answer, and again I left no message. Two calls, no answers, and he didn't have me leave a message. My caution meter rose to ominous. I asked where he was headed. He asked which way was south on Meridian, to get downtown. I pointed and told him. He wondered if he could get a ride to some hotel near downtown. My caution meter spiked to portentous. I told him matter-of-factly that these phone calls were all I could offer to him. He seemed to understand my hesitation and thanked me nonetheless. He asked how long I thought it would take to walk; I said it's about five miles, so if he kept up a decent pace, probably a couple of hours. I told him I could call 911 for him. He seemed to hesitate.
Just as it was about to get awkward—I mean, what do you really do at this point in the situation?—a fire truck arrived behind us with lights flashing. This is either some serious good timing, or another passer-by had the good will to make a phone call to the authorities. As three or four of them approached his vehicle and began asking him questions, my light turned green, and I shouted out my wish for good fortunes to him then drove through the intersection.
A lot of thoughts raced through my head before I approached his car. I envisioned a gun being drawn (this would not be the first time I'd had a gun pointed at me); all of my money being taken (which was admittedly only $1 at the time); my car being stolen (the joke is on you if you steal my car); a bullet sliding effortlessly through my thorax (seems uncomfortable). I also remembered the man in the coffee shop, and the prevalence of the good will of humanity, and I decided that I would make a meager attempt at propagating that. It turns out there was little to nothing for me to do to help, and my story tonight ends not with a bang but with a whimper; but I am somewhat comforted by the simple fact that I pulled up next to this gentlemen while so many others were content to ignore his plight. Would I not have appreciated the same if our positions were reversed?
Many hours later, at about 3:30 in the a.m. I began the lugubrious task of driving home. I got to the intersection of Kessler & Meridian to find a billowing cloud of smoke, and in the middle of the haze was a stationary car. I paused behind it, while through an entire light cycle a handful of other vehicles passed and went on their merry, early morning ways. I sat and thought about it and decided that I wouldn't just pass without inquiring. I considered the relative safety (or lack thereof) of the situation, and decided that I would approach on his driver's side and let down my passenger window. I did so. My caution meter was at guarded.
The guy in the car—who seemed a bit flustered and perhaps surprised to see someone beckoning him roll down his window—rolled down his window. I asked if he needed to make a phone call; he said he did. I'm not stupid, I'm not putting my phone in this guy's hands, nor am I putting my body within arm's reach of him. Still seated in my car, I pulled out my phone and told him I could inform someone of his location. I asked the number, which he gave me. I paused mid-dial: "Northwest Indiana?" "Yeah!" It was a 219 area code. No answer. "No answer! You want me to leave a message?" I tried another number, also 219; also no answer, and again I left no message. Two calls, no answers, and he didn't have me leave a message. My caution meter rose to ominous. I asked where he was headed. He asked which way was south on Meridian, to get downtown. I pointed and told him. He wondered if he could get a ride to some hotel near downtown. My caution meter spiked to portentous. I told him matter-of-factly that these phone calls were all I could offer to him. He seemed to understand my hesitation and thanked me nonetheless. He asked how long I thought it would take to walk; I said it's about five miles, so if he kept up a decent pace, probably a couple of hours. I told him I could call 911 for him. He seemed to hesitate.
Just as it was about to get awkward—I mean, what do you really do at this point in the situation?—a fire truck arrived behind us with lights flashing. This is either some serious good timing, or another passer-by had the good will to make a phone call to the authorities. As three or four of them approached his vehicle and began asking him questions, my light turned green, and I shouted out my wish for good fortunes to him then drove through the intersection.
A lot of thoughts raced through my head before I approached his car. I envisioned a gun being drawn (this would not be the first time I'd had a gun pointed at me); all of my money being taken (which was admittedly only $1 at the time); my car being stolen (the joke is on you if you steal my car); a bullet sliding effortlessly through my thorax (seems uncomfortable). I also remembered the man in the coffee shop, and the prevalence of the good will of humanity, and I decided that I would make a meager attempt at propagating that. It turns out there was little to nothing for me to do to help, and my story tonight ends not with a bang but with a whimper; but I am somewhat comforted by the simple fact that I pulled up next to this gentlemen while so many others were content to ignore his plight. Would I not have appreciated the same if our positions were reversed?
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