A short note before we get to the meatier parts of today's blog:
Life is weird. Life is unexpected. Never assume that it will be otherwise. To quote a band, everything that shimmers in this world is sure to fade. All that shines today will likely be tarnished tomorrow. If you find something, someone, that maintains its shine, cherish it, treasure it, but while putting in on a pedestal, remember that the higher you place such things, the more corrosive the air in which it is.
But enough of that. Today's a reprint of a story I posted on Jerm's site. Sorry, if you've read it already. Enjoy.
He stared at the rain as it came down, wondering if it would ever end. As he looked down at the overhang below him, he could see the smoke drifting heavenward. "I didn't even realize smoke would rise during rain," he thought to himself. So many people throwing their lives away to drugs and the vices of the world. Sad. What time was it? He looked down at his watch and responded in disgust to the digital readout. Thirty more minutes before art class. Art class was the highlight of his day, the only class which really challenged him. All his other classes were challenging because of his pupils, never because of his teachers. It was all a bore really. Sadly enough, he would be quitting art next year, all because of the misunderstanding between him and his teacher.
The noise from the lunchroom drifted down the hall, making him vaguely wish he could go into that lunchroom and have people laugh and talk with him. He laughed to himself as he imagined the other children viewing him as a friend, or even as just an equal. Looking upwards, he noticed the ceiling. Something about it enraptured him, he didn't quite know what captured his attention up there, just that something did. He stood up and stretched his hand out to touch it. Too far away. He jumped. The tile he touched jumped up and away from his hand, leaving an empty space in its place.
A thought crossed his mind. The space looked like the beginning of something. The beginning of. . .a letter. The letter J maybe, and then even an A and then V. Why, he could put his entire name. . .no wait. His smile fell as he realized his name wouldn't fit. He'd have to go all down the hall. But. . .his initials. . .since a name would be indemnifying anyway. . .and initials. He began to work.
Twenty minutes later, he had a sizable J. And a problem. Robert, the fat, overbearing, super macho security guard, came around the corner, yelling at him to 'return everything back to the way its supposed to before he made sure that he spent time with a wooden paddle.' "Big man," he thought, "threatening a fifteen year old." He begin undoing that which he had done.
Suddenly he slipped. He didn't know what happened really, but as he fell towards the plate glass window he had been looking outside of earlier, he realized this collision wasn't going to work out so well for him. How did they do it on TV? Oh yeah, they tensed their arms up and pushed through. Oh well.
The crash alerted everyone to his predicament, and as he felt the pain in his leg, realized that he had bitten off more than perhaps he could chew. Robert came back around the corner, and stared at him in horror as he pulled his body back into the window his left arm. His right arm didn't seem to work right, and it felt funny. As he looked down, he was shocked to see blood flowing from his arm. The smell of vomit floated towards him, as Robert proved his manliness by emptying the contents of his oversized gut. People rushed to him. He looked into his arm and saw his bone, and touched it. The pain was enough to make his heart stop, make his vision blacken. Someone asked if he wanted to ride in an ambulance. "Never been in an ambulance before," he thought, "might be fun."
After the boring ride to the emergency room, thirty five stitches and an intriguing conversation with the doctor on in the emergency room, he sat in his room, examining his wound.
"This, this is going to make one really cool scar."
And for the mp3:
Electric Car - Joy Electric
My mood?
Bubbles. Ain't nothing wrong with that. . .
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