Blurred Line

Take two. This is what I'm thinking as I sit down on the bench. The park is busy now. All dogs and baby strollers.

I have rested the length of my arm along the top of the bench. This ensures that no one will sit down beside me, because it would be too intimate a situation. They would feel as if my arm was about to fall down around them, my hand clasping their shoulder, a smile on my face. I have noticed this. People are afraid of unwarranted friendliness. It's how you point out a person who's not quite right.

I have done this because I don't feel like talking. I feel like communing with some great, all-knowing spirit. I feel like peeling away the layers of my self to reach some kind of true understanding. Mostly, I am thinking about Helena's body. This is unavoidable, I know. Part of being this mammal that I am. Still, I'm aggravated. I would like to be spiritual, to think about something for the betterment of my mind.

It does not come. Instead, my mind is filled with nipples and the bump of the pubic bone at the hip.

Eventually, I make some kind of vague pact with the golden leaves, pinecones and blades of grass. This pact has no real words, but I am thinking, I am willing into effect a sort of mutual understanding. If it is broken, I will spray pesticides all over the park (not part of the pact - this thought comes unbidden from the back of my mind). Still, it's out there now. In my head, I'm apologizing. Sorry, leaves. Sorry, pinecones. Sorry, grass. I won't hurt you if you'll just make things alright.

The leaves are unresponsive, content to continue on with their fluttering. This dance of the leaves in the wind, it seems as if it must have been choreographed. Set down, at one point or another, by the Greek gods when they were tired of sex and familial squabbles.

I cross my arms and think to the leaves, Take it or leave it. I am not aware of the pun until after I've thought it. Stupid. No one would take that seriously. The leaves: Oh, I think we'll leave it.

I decide that nature is a lost cause. So much for communing. I throw my burger carton/day-planner onto the ground. Take that, bitch. I don't say this out loud. Actually, I don't even really think it. I'm just thinking that this is what I'd say if I were a character in a movie.


Profile Writer. Student. Lord of the Dance. Blurredline.com Movie Reviews cterrill(at)blurredline.com Buy Blurred Line Amazon.com Amazon.ca Barnes&Noble.com Booksamillion.com Read it free in PDF Format Blog Exchange Experiment Results Quality Blogs Making Light The Presurfer Scalzi's Whatever Scalzi's By The Way POD-dy Mouth William Gibson Ali's QuixotiQ Writings Dave's Blogography White Screen of Despair Quantum Miss Snark Jack Slyde All Kinds of Writing Aggressive Fiction Architect by Day, Writer by Night Stalkers Not Allowed The Y Logs Totally Unauthorized Bookslut Benjamin Solah Ramblings from the Desert SF Signal Writer Unboxed the0phrastus Archives March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 Et Cetera Feeds Atom Feed	Thursday, March 30, 2006 - Glimpse: Communing With Nature Take two. This is what I'm thinking as I sit down on the bench. The park is busy now. All dogs and baby strollers. I have rested the length of my arm along the top of the bench. This ensures that no one will sit down beside me, because it would be too intimate a situation. They would feel as if my arm was about to fall down around them, my hand clasping their shoulder, a smile on my face. I have noticed this. People are afraid of unwarranted friendliness. It's how you point out a person who's not quite right. I have done this because I don't feel like talking. I feel like communing with some great, all-knowing spirit. I feel like peeling away the layers of my self to reach some kind of true understanding. Mostly, I am thinking about Helena's body. This is unavoidable, I know. Part of being this mammal that I am. Still, I'm aggravated. I would like to be spiritual, to think about something for the betterment of my mind. It does not come. Instead, my mind is filled with nipples and the bump of the pubic bone at the hip. Eventually, I make some kind of vague pact with the golden leaves, pinecones and blades of grass. This pact has no real words, but I am thinking, I am willing into effect a sort of mutual understanding. If it is broken, I will spray pesticides all over the park (not part of the pact - this thought comes unbidden from the back of my mind). Still, it's out there now. In my head, I'm apologizing. Sorry, leaves. Sorry, pinecones. Sorry, grass. I won't hurt you if you'll just make things alright. The leaves are unresponsive, content to continue on with their fluttering. This dance of the leaves in the wind, it seems as if it must have been choreographed. Set down, at one point or another, by the Greek gods when they were tired of sex and familial squabbles. I cross my arms and think to the leaves, Take it or leave it. I am not aware of the pun until after I've thought it. Stupid. No one would take that seriously. The leaves: Oh, I think we'll leave it. I decide that nature is a lost cause. So much for communing. I throw my burger carton/day-planner onto the ground. Take that, bitch. I don't say this out loud. Actually, I don't even really think it. I'm just thinking that this is what I'd say if I were a character in a movie. Cavan blogged at 11:34 AM \| 1 comments	Progress Mass Romantic Currently: 13k Estimated Total: 30k Cavan Radio Playlist Reading Roxana - Daniel Defoe Contemporary Canadian Poetry - Margaret Atwood and Leonard Cohen Restoration Poetry by James Thomson, William Collins, Oliver Goldsmith and Thomas Gray Listening The Darkness - Permission To Land Sam Roberts - We Were Born In A Flame The Vines - Highly Evolved Watching Spider: C+ V for Vendetta: A- Read My Reviews Wishlist Empire of the Senseless - Kathy Acker Brendan Benson - The Alternative To Love Internal Links Under Construction Link Link