"His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead."
- James Joyce, The Dead
I asked the doorman if he knew that the apartment number was the first four digits of the Fibonacci Sequence. He nodded, and politely asked me who Fibonacci was. I told him I didn't know him personally, that he was an ancient mathematician, long dead now. He asked me why I cared about his sequence if I didn't know who he was. Then he left my boxes by the door.
It's funny to see all my possessions contained in four cardboard boxes. All my notes and equipment. There's my life, encased in mashed up trees. No furniture though. Maybe I can get some at a yard sale.
The apartment is cramped, but it's good enough. After all, this is only temporary. I'm not sure if the heater is working: I tried a few knobs and nothing happened, but they might have been the wrong ones. I was planning on keeping it pretty cold anyway.
I'm writing this blog post from the local library, since another missing amenity in the apartment is internet access. Marie and Emilie, I told your mother to give you my blog address. If she did, and you're reading this just leave a post to let me know you are there. I miss you both already. Also, you can let your mother know that I'm settling in just fine, and while it may not have all the comforts of home, the apartment does have one useful feature. There are no distractions.
He sold his original Turkish coffee for only 25¢ a cup and had been since the '70s.
ReplyDelete"Good afternoon, Ms. Evans! Care for kahve?"
"Greetings Mr. Alwyn! Care for kahve?"
Many people pushed past and ignored the wrinkly 60-year-old Turk.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
ReplyDeleteRomeo and Juliet, guest starring Jack Alwyn as Sampson
He inconspicuously entered the new shining building by barely opening the doors just enough to slide by. He quickly strode across the room to the stacks. He stopped a few feet in though when he saw that a young strong man stood in his path.
The man bit his thumb at Geoffrey.
"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?" asked Geoffrey, horrified that one would insult him in such a manner.
"No, sir, I do but bite my thumb." The man, Sampson, sarcastically drawled.
The bright sun beat down upon the beautiful Veronan streets.
"But do you bite your thumb at ME, sir?" Abraham said, starting to get flustered.
After a brief conference with his nearby friend, Sampson said, his own anger rising to match Abrahams "No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, SIR, I do but BITE MY THUMB, SIR!"
"Do you quarrel sir?" Sampsons friend, Gregory, said politely, but with a hidden venom.
"Quarrel sir? no sir!" Abraham said, fearful of the princes wrath lest he be caught in yet another fight.
"If you do then I am for you, I serve as good a man as you." goaded Sampson.
"No better?" Abraham said, nearly laughing as he knew his master was superior.
"Well sir," Sampson started. Gregory whispered something into his ear, "Aye, Better sir!"
"You lie," spat Abraham.
"Draw if you be men," threatened Sampson, as Abraham drew his rapier and he drew his own, "Gregory, remember thy swashing blow," he cautioned his friend as he moved to fight.
I looked around the library's lobby. Why did that man just run out of here? Why was everyone staring at me? Why did I come here? Oh yeah, I was looking for that book...
Everyone stared at Geoffrey. He bowed, then hurried off to the stacks, praying that his adoring fans wouldnt follow him.
_____
Geoffrey rushed down the sidewalk. He wore some shabby cloak that made him look like an extra from Oliver Twist or the like. He slipped into the library and walked halfway across the room before he ran into some poor fellow, one Jack Alwyn by name.
Due to his raised collar, Geoffrey didn't see Jack walking towards him. Jack, gnawing his thumb as he pondered some deep pressing concern, had just gotten up from a computer and, being deep within his own thoughts, did not see the scruffy old actor.
They collided. The man almost choked on his thumb from the impact. He yanked his digit from his mouth, and began to apologize.
"oh, I so-" he began before Geoffrey interrupted him.
"Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?" he said, projecting as only an actor can, with a look of deep insult upon his face.
"What? uhh, I guess, i was just thinking, i didnt mean to-"
"But do you bite you thumb at ME, sir?" He interrupted again, getting slightly impatient.
"No, no, I didn't mean to insult-"
"Quarrel sir? no sir" He said to the empty area right next to Jack.
Jack, now thoroughly freaked out, began to edge his way around the actor in a large radius in order to get out of the door.
"No better?" he sneered at Jack.
He froze, fearful that the lunatic had caught on to his scheme.
"You lie!" he shouted, reaching towards his hip.
Jack, imagining that the man was reaching for a gun, made a break for the door.
Geoffrey froze. his arms dropped to his sides. He looked around as though completely confused. His clothes no longer hung on him comfortably, but clung to him oddly as though he had forgotten how to wear them comfortably. Suddenly, his demeanor reverted back to when he had entered.
He bowed, then rushed off to the stacks.
t was a school day. Braxton, like most normal eleven-year-olds, was supposed to go to school. Though, he didn't like it there very much. The other children avoided him and called him names...they didn't seem to appreciate his lemonade like the Wilshire Tower dwellers. They simply didn't get him.
ReplyDeleteSo, Braxton decided not to go. School is unimportant, anyways. Besides, it wasn't like his father wasn't around to tell him otherwise.
Instead, he decided to people watch. Usually, he did this from his lemonade stand. He knew most of the people around the neighborhood, or at least knew of them. He wasn't scared of anyone...except for Aberdeen. She made Braxton feel extremely uncomfortable...with her "bulbous jubilies". Although, when his father was in town, he seemed to love that creepy antique store.
Anyhow, he didn't last long at his lemonade stand. Far too cold and rainy. Braxton hated the cold. Not nearly as many lemonade customers.
Instead, he packed up stole the Front Desk Man's chair. Front Desk Man must have been out to lunch, as the chair was hardly ever empty. Braxton spent the better part of his day in that chair. The Front Desk Man returned to the building, but didn't know where his chair was, as Braxton was busy rolling around the entire building in it. Braxton was having far too much fun spinning wildly on the spinny chair in the elevator when the new guy, Mr. Alwyn walked in. His pinched face didn't seem friendly, but nonetheless, Braxton insisted on pushing the buttons. Gosh how he hated it when the other people pushed the buttons.
Hmm. Mr. Alwyn was in an apartment on the 11th floor. Braxton didn't like the 11th floor. It smelled like old people. But he smiled up at Mr. Alwyn with his toothy grin and held his breath for as long as he could until the elevator doors once again closed and Braxton could breath in "fresh" air again.
As the elevator started to go move downwards towards the eighth floor, towards home, it suddenly went dark and stopped. Scared, Braxton looked at his glow in the dark Mickey Mouse watch, his only source of light. It was about 8 pm.
"Hey! Hey Jack!" I call out. He doesn't turn his head; I suppose he doesn't hear me over the storm. He seems in a hurry to get somewhere. I mean, everyone outside in this weather is in a hurry, but he seems especially frantic. He is probably headed to the library. That's where I always see him anyways. That would explain why he is in such a rush; if he is too wet, Ms. Evans, the librarian, probably wont let him come in. She would probably think he was purposefully trying to make her job harder.
ReplyDeleteBelow her lived her current interest. The information she had quietly gathered over the last year or so proved to be her only entertainment. She tended to hang a little closer to the broken doorknobs of tenants with domestic problems or loud phone voices. But she had never heard anything about him, nor from him. She broke into his apartment one day and broke his heat, hoping he would complain to her boss. She stole the "2" from his apartment number, one of his apparent fascinations (1123?), expecting him to request her. He never did. She pressed her ear up to his door tonight, but heard no noises from within.
ReplyDelete9:09 AM
ReplyDeleteThere's a man who's just come in. He's muttering to himself.
9:12 AM
He sounds ill.
9:15 AM
I think I'll get behind the counter and make sure the little gate to get there is nice and secure.
9:17 AM
I've locked the little deadbolt on the swinging gate and stacked a bunch of books on the counter so I can sit behind them. I also have the spray gun with the cockroach poison with me.
9:20 AM
Not that the man is doing anything wrong...
9:24 AM
No, never mind, he's just accosted a young man who was on the computers. I can't stand the people that come in here to just use the computers. This is a library. Books live here. Computers are like clockwork zombies compared to books. These young people, always checking their e-mail and blogging constantly about their pointless lives; I will never understand it.
9:25 AM
Oh, the young man's run out. The mumbling man just ran and hid in the stacks. How odd.
9:30 AM
Is he reciting Shakespeare?
9:32 AM
Definitely Shakespeare.
9:35 AM
I guess I'll have to deal with him; two people have already complained to me about him, and I can't be having these constant, selfish interruptions. I'd best take the cockroach spray with me.
"Excuse me, hello sir?" I'm not quite sure if he can hear me. Perhaps he is deaf. Or maybe he's only pretending to be deaf? How rude. Or maybe he's foreign. "HEL-LO?" When in doubt, speak real slow and loud. Well, he's looking at me now, at least.
"DO... YOU..." --I'm pointing at him, just to make sure he knows what 'you' means-- "NEED HEY-YULP?"
9:38 AM
Apparently he doesn't need help, he's run off and hidden behind a shelf.
9:40 AM
I've decided to ignore the man until he decides to say something sensible.
9:41 AM
But I still have the cockroach spray in easy reach.
9:42 AM
Frightened in my own library. Well, the public library that is practically mine. I'm here all the time.
9:45 AM
During work hours, at least.
9:47 AM
I shouldn't be forced to hide behind the counter in a library. Libraries should be peaceful and--
"QUIET!" Huh. Some kid tried to play music on the computer. Try again, you technological little twerp, and I'll practice my umbrella-savaging on you.
9:50 AM
I shall write to the mayor and tell him that there ought to be a background screening on people before they're allowed in my library.