His eyes sat, as eyes should sit. Square in in the center of his forehead. Low. With just enough space in between, but not too much. There was no strangeness to them. The color was not extraordinary. The shape, unremarkable. When he looked at you, they lay flat. Motionless. They saw but didn’t care.
The caring stopped there first. In the eyes.
I hated Faulkner in school. Found his stream of consciousness irritating. Ended up buying “As I Lay Dying” because it was 99p in a bargain bin a few years ago – read it again over the course of the week in St Anne’s Square because I couldn’t be bothered socialising with my coworkers over the lunch time pint.
I’m enthralled by the man. Completely. He’s my thing to go to when I really want to be inspired. I use to shy away from southern voices. I knew enough of them in my real life and to be honest, they just weren’t that interesting. I preferred Dickens (oh how I ADORED Dickens) and Tolstoy and epics from Greece and Ancient Mesopotamia. But try to write about Gilgamesh when you’re from Montcalm, West Virginia and see where it gets you.
Then I read ‘peart’ in that great American novel by Mark Twain, recognised it as a word my grandmother had tried to explain to me for years…and saw something I hadn’t before. These days I’m all about O’Connor, Welty, Lee, Williams.
I still read Chaucer and Solzhenitsyn. But unless Ivan Denisovich starts talking about going squirrel huntin’ up in Possumbranch, he just isn’t gonna hold the same attraction for me. No offense to Denisovich intended.
I’ve been tumbling. If you know who Julia Allison is, you may know what I’m talking about. I’ve also been reading from “An American Album: 150 Years of Harpers Magazine” and drinking wine. On Monday night I ate three deep fried sour kraut balls. I thought that deserved a mention because, well…it’s deep fried sour kraut, people!
My sister got her car stolen for Christmas. But the kids weren’t in it and she has two more. Calm and collected, she tells me all about it earlier today, right after she asks how to get Chinese Porn off her computer.
“The stuff just keeps popping up. Oh, and someone stole my car.”
Her two year son old called me Donald Duck on the phone. He met the bird at Disney World last week. Apparently Donald and I intonate in a similar fashion.
Not good.
Yesterday Mallorie and I spent 8 hours Christmas shopping. Because I always wait until the last minute and she needed to tie up a few loose ends. We also spent three hours reading theology books in Borders, trying out every lip gloss known to Nars in Sephora and lunching down on pecan encrusted trout and cilantro chicken at an Aspen-ish eatery.
I did it all over today. Sans trout, lip gloss and Borders.
Pa has joined his family for the holiday. After the initial meet & greet (you do this too, right?) he said, in no uncertain whisper, he’d give me a thousand dollar tip if I’d do his Christmas shopping this year. He hadn’t managed to yet and even though he didn’t say it, I know he’d just as soon do right near anything other than stand in the Christmas crush buying presents for over 60 children and grand children.
I didn’t take the cash, because I’m pretty sure I owe him a Masters degree or something….I did buy the gifts. It’s nice to do something for him for a change. Steph did the wrapping – a mean feat. And Pa, of course, picked up the bill.
Chris and I after a few rounds of “Skip to My Lou”. Complete with the singing and the snorting (which invariably accompanies any thing we sing) and the skipping past people who clearly think we’re just a little bit ‘SPECIAL’.
But never mind. The way I see it, if you can’t sing cow’s in the cornfield while bounding through a theme park with your sister on a cold December night…then the terrorists have already won.
p.s. One of these days we might actually get a blow out and wear makeup and, like, put on a dress or something when we have our holiday photo taken. But probably not.
This is the first time in ten years I’ve spent a week away from the internet. Frightening, really.
Just checking my email and realising I may have left the last post open to confusion. I often refer to my grandfather as “Pa” – And he’s fine. That’s what he’ll tell you, anyway. But he said the same thing during his fifth heart attack. And again a few weeks back when he told me… “Why, I’m ok. I just can’t see is all.”
It took him five days of not-seeing to admit he was “kindly getting worried”. I sent him a blood pressure cuff and a glucose kit. They told him he’s in better shape than me. I’m now making him an appointment with the ophthalmologist who put his implant in ten years ago because the docs at the local didn’t have time to look into something as trivial as blindness. The man’s insured by the UMWA. He shouldn’t really have to deal with State Hospitals. But what are ya gonna do?
In the meantime, I’m a bit more calm and collected than I was last week. Because, you know, sometimes….you’ve gotta be.
I never thought it would bother me so much. But that’s the thing. I didn’t think. You don’t. About this stuff. Until it happens. Then you know. After Pa told me I put away the phone. Pulled over on the side of the road. And threw up.
———
The other day I was listening to Richard Dawkins talk about “The God Delusion”. How he sees The Divine as a trick of the mind. Religious indoctrination, as a form of child abuse. And theism, as a kind of insanity.
I wont go on about quantum theory versus creationism. But I will say this: Even on a wholly intellectual level, there are some things in some people, that make me believe in a world I’ll never understand.
My grandfather’s stillness…while I’m retching on the side of the road…is one of those things.
I’m sitting here eating dry cereal and making my Christmas list. That’s really all there is to it.
1. Bobby Brown Sandy Gold Collection (Bobby is Beautiful.)
2. Diptyque Parfumée Encens Candle. (I love myrrh.)
3. J.Crew Tartan Toggle Coat (Saw it. Want it.)
4. Shavata Brows. (Best. Brows. Ever.)
5. Sephora Antibacterial Brush Set (Please take note.)
6. Vaishaly Cleansing Balm (Balm is better.)
7. Smythson Floppy Manuscript Book (For all those notes.)
8. Mark by Marc Jacob Soft French Purse (Pink and Pretty)
9. Nougat Mirrored Compact. (Audrey Hepburn. Enough said.)
10. Jo Malone Bath Oil Collection. (The more the merrier.)
