Saturday, December 15, 2007

Dull Notes We Sing; "An excerpt"

A person is going to tell you a story. If they say it’s going to be very interesting, it’s going to suck. It might involve a quadriplegic midget prostitute, but she’ll get boring after a scene or two. Imagine a quadriplegic midget prostitute sweeping the floor. Really. Get back to me in an hour.

If you thought about her for more than 10 seconds, it’s because you cheated. You added in a family of cats, or had her talk to her pimp. Or you were trying to figure out how a quadriplegic could sweep a floor. Regardless, you’ve returned to me. She bored you. This is proof that novelty, like pain, produces numbness. You soon find a way to step back.

So these stories will not try to be interesting. They will in some way involve a homeless man with empty eye sockets, who could interest you for a moment. If you saw him in real life, you’d stare for a little, maybe clutch your purse, laugh, etc. You’d look at your friend or a street vendor, say, “wow, that guy is scary” and then go home, and forget about him by tomorrow morning. Not that you tried to forget…Still, you forget about best friends from 10th grade, forget about the faint scar on your right forearm, and forget about that documentary on theories on the ultimate fate of the universe, which scared you so bad when your were five that you hid yourself in the bathroom. Your family had to unlock the door with a hairpin. So, these stories tell about memory. They are here so forgetfulness doesn’t erase them.

The people in Greek mythology had it right. Despite their bashing babies against castle walls, pillaging foreign lands, mass murders in the backyard, raping, cooking sons, killing dad, impregnating mom. Despite all that, they believed in memory. The importance of it, how it created a sort of immortality for those gone. When Greeks introduced themselves, they said where they came from. Location, social status, family. You are tied into these, and it is your responsibility to give immortality and fame to your family as well as to yourself.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Merited, and I liked it. I like the way you write. But, personally, I could never forget a thing like empty eye sockets and could describe to you in detail the outfit of the man I saw passed out on the subway at 4:30 in the morning; and I could never forget the faint scars on my arms. As for the documentary on the universe, I haven't seen it yet...

You and me might be a lot alike, maybe.