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Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Razbliuto: Interlude
1994:
With everything that was going on it was good that I found a way to distract myself. My parents were in the middle of a divorce and make things easier for them by getting kicked out of St. Paschal's Baylon School. Comic books and video games provided some relief but I've found another way to "distract" myself with only my hands. This "distraction" gave me a whole new sensation, one I never felt in my pre-pubescent stage. The discovery of this type of "distraction" seems to be covered in so many of the memoirs young men write.
The only thing my parents agreed on was that I was "distracting" myself too much to their liking. Perhaps they had a problem with the fact that I was "distracting" myself at all. One Saturday morning I wasn't getting out of bed fast enough for the numerous wake-up alerts my Dad was administering. This day my only crime was being too sleepy but my Dad suspected otherwise. Eventual he came into my room and set on the chair next to the desk where I did my homework. He gave me some advice in a solemn voice I had never heard him use before and one I would rarely hear since.
"It's okay to have fantasies, thinking about fantasies. But...um...you don't want to think about them too much. You don't want to try and them replace the real thing. Something like that's not going to happen. Then you'll have trouble with the real thing."
I had no idea what he's talking about.
1995:
Thanksgiving at Maggie's house, she a friend of my Mom's, would become a tradition. This was the first time three matriarchal families gathered to cook up enough food to feed around 18 people. The main course was over. The endless picture taking that the Moms liked so well was over. Everyone was free to walk about on their own and eat whatever's left.
I had a plate of mash potatoes in my hand when the though of death hit me. My Catholic mother, much to the chagrin of my Jewish father, sent me to a Catholic school for three years before I was asked to leave. Why? We'll save that for later, if at all. Even out of its official grasp the indoctrination of The Church was still laced throughout my brain. Going to Mass every Friday morning must have worked because for absolutely no reason I was deeply concerned for my immortal soul. It's the immortality part that I was most concerned with. Standing in the kitchen, probably in everyone's way, I imagined eternity. To die is one thing but what about a world with no end? In Heaven we are meant to live in God's presence forever, which is promised to be a good enough feeling to last forever. It might be nice for a while but anything would start to get boring after a few hundred years, right?
I realized the stuff I really enjoy, X-Men comics, probably aren't allowed in Heaven. The comics with Angel in them might pass but anything where Wolverine has blood on his claws or where Rouge and Psylocke are dressed for summer weather have got to be seized as contraband on sight. I'd be in Heaven with all the people who liked going to Mass and doing everything they liked. They might have video games but the only ones they would have are those NES Bible stories where you play as Noah rounding up animals. You can beat those in an hour, how are they meant to last forever?
I could try running all the way to the end of the universe but I'd never escape God and His kingdom. There would be no way out. After a hundred years I'd still be there. After a thousand. After a million. After millions and millions of years I'd still be dead and still living in the same boring place. I'd be experiencing the same boredom day after day after day after day...
I'm paralyzed where I stand. With such fear of the afterlife coursing through me I can't move. My eleven-year-old brain is stretching itself to its limits trying to comprehend eternity and the afterlife. Save for the regular autonomous responses it can only deal with this theological quandary. I'm trying to see what an endless world would look like, one where you can run and run but never leave.
I don't know how long I'm standing there with potatoes probably now too cold to eat when my Mom tells me it's time to go. I put down the plate and started running to my Mom's Saturn. I was ready to get back home and read the fuck out of the issues of X-Men where Wolverine takes on Omega Red.
It's still 1995 when my Dad is driving my brother and I to school on one of the days he has us. I was only awake for an hour but already I was lost in thought. My eyes were fixated on the glove compartment but I wasn't thinking of my Dad's insurance information. I wasn't really thinking of any one thing in particular. My mind was just running in circles. I'd start thinking about my homework last night but I could extrapolate any thought into anything else. First I was thinking about my grades. Then I was thinking about what it would be like to watch your own corpse deteriorate after you die. This merry-go-round inside my mind was constantly twirling. Images of death, religion, what little I knew of sex, family, friends, tragedy happening to all of them, tragedy happening to me were constantly flashing on and off. A riptide opened up in my head and I started drowning in consciousness. My brain would start working on more or less the same pace ever since.
2007:
I may be walking in between classes. I may be waiting for a bus. I may have just woken up. Many times I would just open my wallet and look at the "Lola Cheat Sheet" Lucy made for me at the party. I still haven't seen Lola yet but we've exchanged e-mails. I keep thinking about her. With every new thought she amazes me. So I just keep thinking about her and thinking about her and thinking about her...Labels: razbliuto
Permanent Link: 8:40 PM |
1 comments
Comments:
I have nothing significant to say, other than these two things:
1) I'm enjoying the Razbliuto pieces, please keep them coming
2) My time at St. Paschal's is probably even worse than I remember. The negative influence that place had on me and on so many other kids cannot be understated.
# posted by Jeremiah : 5:12 PM
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