If he looks closer to his nose, the carpet fibers fall out of focus at a very specific point. He wonders: do other people lose focus at a different point? What if there were some people who could focus on their nose, even? Are there people who can focus on a point inside their head? Anyway, the fiber two inches away that juts up too high is right within range. He contemplates reaching up and squashing it but it would take too much effort. He's done. So he just blows at it instead. It doesn't move.
He lets his eyes wander farther and farther from his head until they sweep over the walls and the cabinets. He imagines his eyes as guns that shoot out sight. He pockmarks the wall for a while until the room looks like imaginary Stalingrad. He contemplates flopping over to pockmark the ceiling but he has no energy. He's done.
She walks in. "What are you doing lying there?" He contemplates answering but he's done. "Hello? I know you're tired but I'm tired too and I've been working this whole time you've been lying there. Get in here and help me!" He's done. "Fred, you are so lazy. Get up off your fat butt and come in here and help me!" Done, finished, kaputt.
"Fine!" She throws up her hands and storms out.
He's done, but he would have gotten up, stormed the gates of hell itself, and dismantled a jet with his teeth to hear a "please."
There's a reason I can relate to this.
ReplyDelete"He lets his eyes wander farther and farther from his head..."
"Dismantled a jet with his teeth"
Those aren't the reasons, exactly, but I like those lines especially.
Ugh. I am so depressed right now. I shouldn't be writing. AND I don't like writing when I'm happy because it's all tripe. You decide.
ReplyDeleteAnyone can write stuff that is depressing. Sure, some people's depressing stuff is better than others' but still. . . . It takes true genius to write something happy that is also good. I think so, anyway.
ReplyDeleteWhy are you depressed? Don't be depressed. I'm sorry.