11,711. RUDIMENTS, pt. 665

RUDIMENTS, pt. 665

(those eternal silences alarm me)

If I had somehow been 

dropped and landed in 

the Andes Mountains,

slogging my solo way 

through the Peruvian 

highlands somewhere,

or like that Fitzcarraldo 

guy in the Herzog film, 

I'd have been mo more

impetuous than I already 

was. Or intent anyway on 

getting to my own destinations : 

Dragging all that maddening 

equipment, supplies, and 

constructions over mountains

and valleys to build my opera

house no matter the cost. That 

was all part of my make-up, 

and the streets and times of 

my life right then were really 

all I was intent upon. One 

day, not that long after I'd

gotten there, I was walking 

along 8th Street, headed east, 

from the Studio School, headed

towards St. Mark's Place; a group

of 4 or 5 kids caught up to me.

They were all over me with the

most friendly of talk, all that

good-guy forever stuff, as if 

they were actually glad to see 

me. As it turned out, they were 

from  Woodbridge High School 

and had been part of that miserable 

last term I had to spend there. No

better bunch of rabid do-gooders

had I ever experienced  -  they'd

been the energy pack of that year's 

class  -  all that extra-curricular

jive, yearbook committees, Spring

play, everything to make the fine

totality of the school year. And now,

at the beginning of August, a scant

maybe three months most, they catch

up to me, quite by accident, and act

as if I was and had ever been their

best buddy. The school year be 

damned, and all their sneering and 

uppity behavior towards me. I looked

around quickly thinking perhaps there

was a bus approaching that I could

re-direct into running them over, but,

no such luck and thus no bus. All 

of a moment, I was their finest 

chance meeting  -  they asked what 

I'd been up to, where I was staying, 

what school (of course) I'd be

going to (why is that the only

damned thing people thing about?),

and the rest. I felt about 2 feet tall,

and wasn't into any reciprocating at

all. I, also, could have lied my ass 

off and said I was going to both

Columbia and NYU together, and

on a Presidential Merit Scholarship

with a Junior year at the Sorbonne,

and those fizzle-heads would have

bought it. But I didn't; I played

everything down, acted sodden

and morose in their presence, and

said the most basic 'Hi, how are

you' crap I could. It seemed that,

once again, I'd been bested and I

immediately began to wonder

why it is that the human animal,

at its most annoying, is always

running in a pack.

-

Blaise Pascal, I think it was, 

said something like 'all human 

unhappiness comes from not 

knowing how to sit silent in 

a room.' Close to that, anyway.

I didn't know that at the time of

these kids, but I sure would have

liked using it on them  -  a dumb

bunch of noisy jabberwocks.

(Just made that up; seems to 

work). It was immediately seen

as incredible by me that these 

jerks, first off, for all their good

deeds, didn't just throw me

twenty bucks for old times 

sake, if it was all so glad and

happy to them, and to help out a

fallen compatriot (I figured the

church stuff and all would have

already been in their heads), and

secondly, act at least a little bit

concerned and 'listen' to whatever

I said back and not just talk over

it. They had tons of money, the

train fares and food budget and

movie thing, for each of them was

a sure ten or fifteen bucks. And

I knew they had more. It was

just after crossing Fifth Ave.,

here, and there was a movie

place of some sort then at or

near that corner. That's where

they were going  -  I'd passed 

it a hundred times, just figuring

it was a plush, just-off Fifth,

fancier than usual movie place.

They could have it. I left.

-

Funny thing about that Pascal

quote  -  about silence. He claims

all the problems of the human

stem from not remaining quiet,

as it were  -  I figure he means

to say we should be in quiet 

contemplation instead, and yet

he has another famous quote

about the mystification and

sort-of mystic paralysis such

silent contemplation can bring.

Pretty weird; both sides. Here's

the second quote, exact : 'I

feel engulfed in the infinite

immensity of spaces whereof I

know nothing, and which know 

nothing of me; I am terrified

The eternal silence of these

infinite spaces alarm me.'

Looking back now, boy I sure

would have liked to have used 

that as my answer to those

kids when they asked me how

I was doing. That would have 

been some real schmuck

excitement to bring back to

Woodbridge! (I can hear what

they would have said now  -  'Hey!

Remember that guy from last 

year, that crazy guy we used

to call Mad Dog? Listen to 

what he told us!!!'). Hell yeah,

that would have been fun.

-

I may have told this story before,

but it's one of the best and has 

always stayed with me. I'll

speed it up some and paraphrase 

a little. The girl's name was, as

it turned out, 'Cass,'  -  full name

Cassandra Lightling, or maybe it
was Lighteling, I forget. Uptown,

along the park, in the west 60's

and right up through the 70's and

80's, etc., it's called Central Park

West. One side of the street is

large, monied, apartment and 

condo living, big time stuff, 

the usual, and across the street 

is Central Park. Along the

residential side of the street,

as well, is the Ethical Culture 

Society; hall, lectures and soft

religion stuff, and then the

Museum of Natural History,

etc. For the park side, there's

a wonderful, old stone wall,

benches, entries, and gates 

named after cool things, like 

'Poet's Gate' and other high

honor things.  One day, as a

sort of hip'd out bum type, I

was lounging away on one of

those bench-seat things probably

about 65th street. Some girl 

came out from one of the

buildings and crossed over. 

(Cass). The story is long and

odd, but : She'd seen me, from 

whatever floor she was on. 

Lived alone there with her 

Father. He was a financial 

guy, working, big money,

but they didn't get along.

This day, as the result of 

some argument or quarrel,

he'd told her to remain indoors,

and had instructed the doorman,

as well, that she should NOT

leave the premises. A punishment

of sorts. She was maybe 15. She'd

seen me moping about, had gotten

fascinated, and actually had snuck

out to see me. She told me all sorts

of stuff -  lots of that teen angst,

want of a better life, filled with all

possibilities, etc. She said, to her 

I represented Freedom, and what 

sort of life she wished for (?).
I figure that there's a three or
four year period in every kid's life
when, amidst all that change and
confusion, certain things seen
just jump out at you as embodying
a quality or a trait to emulate.

She asked a hundred questions.

It was pretty sweet; I answered

what I could, honestly, and told

her to hang in, etc. I guess I'd 

have taken her with me, in fact,

except for the law. Anyway, as she

left, she told me not to go anywhere,

and wait for her to return. I did,

not knowing what else to do,

and not, already, wanting to break

her heart  -  as just another dumb

human, betraying need and true

emotion. I felt equally silly, her

having already put way too 

much a claim on me, ideals,

expectations, outlooks and all

that. Five, maybe ten, minutes,

she came back out. (I actually

noted the doorman peering out

by this time). She handed me a

small cardboard box  -  filled with

food. Some fruit, some cold cuts,

a sandwich, etc. Then, she gave

me a small note, said read it later,

and bent over a gave me a 'peck' 

on the cheek. And that was that!

The doorman saw her back in.

-

Boy, Blaise; I too felt 'engulfed.'