Know-How
12-06-2008, 01:10 PM
This story is sort of a metaphor for how people go through life, never thoroughly portraying their feelings, never being understood or really known, and the man in this story is finally able to be understood somewhat:
The cool morning breeze bristled the hair on my arms, carrying with it the pungent smell of burning meat. I didn’t try to locate the source, because I knew it was Sunday, and it was tradition. As I set down my lawn chair, this being my first time to rest outside on a Sunday, I debated whether or not it was too distracting an odor to be out here.
I decided I’d get used to it. My knees cracked in various places as I bent to unfold the chair, then I began positioning myself slowly, savoring the strain of my body being taken from me. It was almost unbearably bright, and the sun penetrated my thick glasses, forming a powerful glare on them that made me squint to the extend that I couldn‘t see anyway.
Immediately I shut my eyes, the rays pouring through and between the clouds overhead, moving move slowly than usual, creating those pillars of light that make you wonder if there really is a god after all. I felt myself falling into a state of unawareness, and I didn’t think about anything except for how beautiful today was. The fumes continually drifted over me, making me feel slightly light-headed, and more so as time went on.
After such a long exposure to them, I felt detached from myself.
Some effect of it, the charcoal and the grill itself and everything else. Now the clouds and sun had somewhat dissipated, and I looked up into the rigid layers of the sunset. I must’ve been here longer than I thought. I could hear the consistent barking of a dog somewhere in the distance, of cars rolling across the rough asphalt roads, and even though it wasn’t particularly windy, it howled savagely, scattering leaves and debris in circular motions. I arched my head again, sorting my way through the clouds and gases and the atmosphere, and now I could see it all: Mars, Jupiter, all the nebulas and asteroid belts and satellites, everything. The stars shone impressively, though not as bright as I would’ve expected.
I began to feel myself transcend, rising up, up, and now high enough to see everyone down below. I soared, weaving in and out of trees and buildings, landing on roof tops and yelling down chimneys then flying by the windows just to see the expressions made by the people who lived there for a split second before I accelerated. Throwing my head back, a steady current blowing under my arms and through my hair, I laughed uproariously for all to hear. I rose higher then, into the unknown, taking in everything and staring into the blackest black you’ve ever seen. I looked far off into nothingness, and light years away found vast planets and magnificent displays of energy.
There was so much to see here, so much to learn, and yet I was the only person to see it. I half-heartedly flew now, a feeling of discontentment tugging at me. I touched down on the moon, doing flips and spins and all the other things I wish I could still do back home. Suddenly the word home rung in my ears, and I felt an almost violent urgency to go somewhere, an unavoidable calling.
I descended back into the atmosphere, then my feet touched ground, an unfamiliar feeling to me now. I turned around to face the people waiting there. They looked at me with mild surprise and interest, some with anticipation. One of them spoke up. You here for the barbeque? He signaled the grill, and I looked at it too. Yeah, I said, and they welcomed me. We sat there on the small plastic chairs strewn about, the air dense because the porch was rather small, and I told them about my journey, about what I’d seen and heard and felt, then we laughed and wept mournfully together.
Other stories were told, but everyone knew theirs didn‘t compare to mine, but it was okay because it didn’t matter. When it was all over, the sun went down like a firework after the explosion in the distance, like it had been waiting for us to finish, and it was night. Now the air was hot with charcoal remains and flies swarmed around us, waiting for some sign of retreat or surrender. The streetlights activated, illuminating everything around us just barely with a faded bronze light. Then I stumbled home, ignoring the chair I had been using, I’d get it in the morning. As I slept, I stared into the bleak walls of my eyelids, its darkness almost welcoming now.
The cool morning breeze bristled the hair on my arms, carrying with it the pungent smell of burning meat. I didn’t try to locate the source, because I knew it was Sunday, and it was tradition. As I set down my lawn chair, this being my first time to rest outside on a Sunday, I debated whether or not it was too distracting an odor to be out here.
I decided I’d get used to it. My knees cracked in various places as I bent to unfold the chair, then I began positioning myself slowly, savoring the strain of my body being taken from me. It was almost unbearably bright, and the sun penetrated my thick glasses, forming a powerful glare on them that made me squint to the extend that I couldn‘t see anyway.
Immediately I shut my eyes, the rays pouring through and between the clouds overhead, moving move slowly than usual, creating those pillars of light that make you wonder if there really is a god after all. I felt myself falling into a state of unawareness, and I didn’t think about anything except for how beautiful today was. The fumes continually drifted over me, making me feel slightly light-headed, and more so as time went on.
After such a long exposure to them, I felt detached from myself.
Some effect of it, the charcoal and the grill itself and everything else. Now the clouds and sun had somewhat dissipated, and I looked up into the rigid layers of the sunset. I must’ve been here longer than I thought. I could hear the consistent barking of a dog somewhere in the distance, of cars rolling across the rough asphalt roads, and even though it wasn’t particularly windy, it howled savagely, scattering leaves and debris in circular motions. I arched my head again, sorting my way through the clouds and gases and the atmosphere, and now I could see it all: Mars, Jupiter, all the nebulas and asteroid belts and satellites, everything. The stars shone impressively, though not as bright as I would’ve expected.
I began to feel myself transcend, rising up, up, and now high enough to see everyone down below. I soared, weaving in and out of trees and buildings, landing on roof tops and yelling down chimneys then flying by the windows just to see the expressions made by the people who lived there for a split second before I accelerated. Throwing my head back, a steady current blowing under my arms and through my hair, I laughed uproariously for all to hear. I rose higher then, into the unknown, taking in everything and staring into the blackest black you’ve ever seen. I looked far off into nothingness, and light years away found vast planets and magnificent displays of energy.
There was so much to see here, so much to learn, and yet I was the only person to see it. I half-heartedly flew now, a feeling of discontentment tugging at me. I touched down on the moon, doing flips and spins and all the other things I wish I could still do back home. Suddenly the word home rung in my ears, and I felt an almost violent urgency to go somewhere, an unavoidable calling.
I descended back into the atmosphere, then my feet touched ground, an unfamiliar feeling to me now. I turned around to face the people waiting there. They looked at me with mild surprise and interest, some with anticipation. One of them spoke up. You here for the barbeque? He signaled the grill, and I looked at it too. Yeah, I said, and they welcomed me. We sat there on the small plastic chairs strewn about, the air dense because the porch was rather small, and I told them about my journey, about what I’d seen and heard and felt, then we laughed and wept mournfully together.
Other stories were told, but everyone knew theirs didn‘t compare to mine, but it was okay because it didn’t matter. When it was all over, the sun went down like a firework after the explosion in the distance, like it had been waiting for us to finish, and it was night. Now the air was hot with charcoal remains and flies swarmed around us, waiting for some sign of retreat or surrender. The streetlights activated, illuminating everything around us just barely with a faded bronze light. Then I stumbled home, ignoring the chair I had been using, I’d get it in the morning. As I slept, I stared into the bleak walls of my eyelids, its darkness almost welcoming now.