Chapter 58
58
I keep returning to this chapter to continually revise, edit, rephrase, and reorganize. I certainly expect something paramount to rise up out of these paragraphian ashes like some sort of poorly worded phoenix whose feathers have yet to fully form.
Or not.
Perhaps I’ll never figure this certain section of the novel out, and, upon it’s publication, I’ll regretfully mourn the misuse of literary property, noting to myself the horrible void in your experience since I have most assuredly deprived you of some sort of essential narrative information.
Or not.
But then again, you, the ever patient reader, will never really know the difference if facts such as these listed below are omitted from the final product.
Omission number one:
On a fairly sunny midmorning in July of 1978, I took a walk to my local grocery market because I was deliriously low on coffee. Half asleep and dreaming of cream I stumbled into the frozen food s section by mistake. I had no use for the thousands of bags of peas, corn, strawberries or asparagus, but for some reason or another I came out of that maze of pre-packaged nonsense holding a half-pound worth of freeze dried potato strings. I know that this recollection, this impulsive potato string purchase, makes absolutely no sense, but believe me when I say that when my good friend Robert stopped by my house the next afternoon with fresh ground hamburger meat he bought at the farmers’ market, I was certainly pleased to have forgotten to buy coffee the pervious day.
Omission number two:
Last Saturday I was wading knee deep into a small lake precisely 3.2 miles Northwest of my house, when suddenly I felt a sharp nipping at my big toe. That nipping, as it so happened to be, was an audacious prick of a fresh water fish who refused to give up his lakeside property to my size twelve feet. As the fish and I met eye to eye through the murky shallow waters I knew immediately who would wind up winning this battle of will, so I calmly and compliantly waded a bit further downstream.
And finally, omission number three:
I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, which is understandable, considering my current descent into madness, so this lack of sleep is neither alarming nor unwarranted. I just thought I’d point out the darkening circles under my eyes to my extremely patient reader.
See? Three obvious omissions that, however, fit perfectly well between the margins of these pages although neither you nor I are better for them being written.
We constantly try to fill the voids in our lives with monotony, just as I felt the necessity to fill these pages with things better left unsaid. Perhaps, just every once in a while, these voids don’t need accompaniment. Perhaps these voids, just like this chapter, would be better by the addition of a simple blank page.
Or not.
As for now, it’s time to move on, get some sleep, and await the morning after.
Or not.
Perhaps I’ll never figure this certain section of the novel out, and, upon it’s publication, I’ll regretfully mourn the misuse of literary property, noting to myself the horrible void in your experience since I have most assuredly deprived you of some sort of essential narrative information.
Or not.
But then again, you, the ever patient reader, will never really know the difference if facts such as these listed below are omitted from the final product.
Omission number one:
On a fairly sunny midmorning in July of 1978, I took a walk to my local grocery market because I was deliriously low on coffee. Half asleep and dreaming of cream I stumbled into the frozen food s section by mistake. I had no use for the thousands of bags of peas, corn, strawberries or asparagus, but for some reason or another I came out of that maze of pre-packaged nonsense holding a half-pound worth of freeze dried potato strings. I know that this recollection, this impulsive potato string purchase, makes absolutely no sense, but believe me when I say that when my good friend Robert stopped by my house the next afternoon with fresh ground hamburger meat he bought at the farmers’ market, I was certainly pleased to have forgotten to buy coffee the pervious day.
Omission number two:
Last Saturday I was wading knee deep into a small lake precisely 3.2 miles Northwest of my house, when suddenly I felt a sharp nipping at my big toe. That nipping, as it so happened to be, was an audacious prick of a fresh water fish who refused to give up his lakeside property to my size twelve feet. As the fish and I met eye to eye through the murky shallow waters I knew immediately who would wind up winning this battle of will, so I calmly and compliantly waded a bit further downstream.
And finally, omission number three:
I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, which is understandable, considering my current descent into madness, so this lack of sleep is neither alarming nor unwarranted. I just thought I’d point out the darkening circles under my eyes to my extremely patient reader.
See? Three obvious omissions that, however, fit perfectly well between the margins of these pages although neither you nor I are better for them being written.
We constantly try to fill the voids in our lives with monotony, just as I felt the necessity to fill these pages with things better left unsaid. Perhaps, just every once in a while, these voids don’t need accompaniment. Perhaps these voids, just like this chapter, would be better by the addition of a simple blank page.
Or not.
As for now, it’s time to move on, get some sleep, and await the morning after.
posted by B at 1:22 PM
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