the harm i'd wrought
"i carelessly accelerated the spinning world, so the purveyor / could sell her spirits of levity and gravity, so the woman dancing / could sway and smile, enticingly undoing the harm i'd wrought." (vasodilator)
It might as well have been yesterday when we drove Sunset
to the beach on the anniversary (as odd as it sounds) of the suicide of her ex's ex. She had a facility
for remembering these things, and for attaching herself, insinuating herself, into tragic situations
of which she'd only heard second- or third-hand. By extension, insinuating me into such situations
at another degree removed. She was my first Miranda, I guess the only one. Her
touch was affectionate, and desperate. In the weeks after the concert, I brooded on it often, an affection
to which I'd become accustomed to, to which I felt entitled. Neither she nor I called the other.
Some months later, we met on campus, shared a heavy look and told each other we wouldn't forget.
I believe her.
never was so pure
Around this time, 1990. It had to be, as it was after the ACS exam. In the make-up lab practical
for the class I made a fool of myself. Some time later, I learned the generosity and glad
truth that people's memory is sporadic. Myself, repeating "I don't even know why I'm here,"
loudly, "this is more trouble than it's worth." Humiliated myself before the person who would
be first to earn the title friend. By 1997, we hadn't spoken in years. Rusted out.
A hell of a way to end a friendship, isn't it?
I once felt the same way. Just stop asking questions, just stop trying to right the wrongs.
Of aesthetics. Of personality. Of beauty. Of intelligence. You just have to get used to it.
You just have to get over it. The beautiful, the eloquent, the charismatic will go further in
this life than either you or I. I refuse to begrudge Perry is charisma. I refuse to begrudge
Clinton his mind. I refuse to begrudge my sister her beauty. I may notice that they receive
more attention, I may notice that people hang on their words more, but I stopped being bothered
by it a decade ago. If I could not be gracious, If I could not cheer their successes rather
than envy them, I would not deserve merely less attention, I would clearly deserve none.
One of the books I read this week is
Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder. Essentially, it is a plot built around an historical
survey of western philosophy. Though the philosophy rarely gets particularly deep, it is nevertheless
interesting enough to work through, if you have the time. It has a couple problems, namely taking
too long to resolve questions it plants into the reader's mind, but it has one quite interesting plot
twist about halfway through. Honestly, with that plot twist so early on in the book, my interest
was piqued for a big climax at the end... which did not materialize.