About? Part 1

Since I am troubled still by the notion of the About page, here then is something of a biography. Naturally, it takes an abstract form; a patchwork quilt of dissonant rhythms.

The First Act:

I am the son of an iceberg and a butterfly, a roughly-hewn statue and a beloved jester. Though I bear the stature of a king, I was the last pawn to take my place on our familial chessboard.

I was raised in a house built by the hands of convicts oh so long ago, each brick a sad testament to a life left behind. Some were carved with hearts, in memory of loved ones left behind; others, an arrow, the symbol of their caste. A ramshackle misery, crumbling under the weight of time, changing its façade so often … but never its true character. I could not rightly have been born anywhere else.

I see a little boy, playing in the rear courtyard with his toy trucks. The sky is rich and clear, the day mumbling quietly by around him. He is called to lunch, and then taken for a nap. Crisp, clean sheets; they smell nice.

I see a small boy, playing ‘dress-ups’. He wonders why none of his friends get the dreaded ‘belt’ (or spoon or any other reprimand) for playing this game. Doesn’t everyone want to look nice?

I see a lonely boy, standing in tears and confusion. His peers mock and jeer; the Teacher ignores him, intent on being ‘one of the cool kids’, even if 20 years too late.

I see a wild boy, enraged by the dictates of a rigid education system. He is writing furiously a story full of mythical creatures, magical happenings, and of course, an idealized central character. His fourth grade teacher will praise it unduly, and briefly resurrect his hope that he may be allowed to grow as he will.

I see a lonely boy, troublesome and troubled. The pseudo-mothers have decided he is too difficult, and retired to their usual distant sisterhoods. He wonders why he is not loved. Could this really be ‘family’?

I see sleepless nights and reckless days. I watch the boy as he travels with his father, couriering Important Things to Important People. He feels like a young man now, beginning to find his feet. If only he knew …

I see the old house being surrendered to a new owner, a man of false promises and high hopes. The boy will see it once more, during his early manhood, and then it shall be torn down.

I see a boy on the cusp of teen age, swaddled in quilts, reading by a dim lamp as his family’s caravan treks southwards to more verdant pastures. It is a dark and stormy night; this feels right for the transition.

I see a teenage boy and his dog; returning from a walk on the beach, they are captured crossing a bridge by a painter. The boy will never know what becomes of that painting, that frozen moment. He assumes the painting will remain similarly ignorant.

I watch the boy as he struggles with the new environment, the unfamiliar territory … and again, so much cruelty. He has learned his place as the outcast, this one. For now, he will treasure it with a bitter pride.

Now, at last, he is a young man. I watch as he finishes his schooling, and returns to the city he once thought he knew. It is a bitter homecoming, and will give rise to many strange tales before he leaves it again at the end of the year whence he came.



~ by thedyingmoments on November 19, 2012.

One Response to “About? Part 1”

  1. fucking amazing!!!
    raw, powerful, moving.
    i don’t know where you’re headed but damn… continue that journey. go with the flow… reading this – is priceless. thank you so much for sharing.

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