Stalking the Average Man
rectums or bodily functions. Maybe more importantly, now that you know it‘s possible to be
tricked for your own good, you can cut me some slack and our research will go more quickly. |
-I‘m all for that. |
Bonnie and I thereafter monitored and commented on passersby conversations to cement
my appreciation of how accurate, and efficient, communications could be when our assumptions
matched, and how much others misinterpreted from concern over how they sounded. By the time
we reached her home, I was exhilarated from hearing so much in-between-the-lines of other
people‘s lives, and so drained from editing my racism, sexism, and other grievous categories of
ignorance, that I said goodbye from within in a dull, floating awareness. Bonnie noted this about
my demeanor, said it would pass without harm, and that I was due for another infusion of
energy—whatever that meant.
Emphasizing the utter mediocrity of my mood traffic on the way home seemed bizarrely
slow, even though my gauges said this wasn't true. Also strange was that I did n't find it funny
when a middle-aged Caucasian male shouted at an erratic driving Oriental man that they should
all walk to math class. Not at the time, anyway.
Entering Ed‘s apartment, a colossal fatigue overcame me and I collapsed on the couch
feeling as if I was under the weight of a trillion…I felt so heavy that I literally couldn't move.
Unconcerned, I closed my eyes and listened to an internal buzzing through which I swear I could
feel my heart beating. Wishing this sensation would stop didn't seem wise, so I focused on the
rhythm until the buzz faded into the sounds of chirping birds; fifty minutes had passed. I got up
feeling invigorated, not unlike the last time I had dabbled with cocaine while covering a lazy
firefight that became a three-day debacle.
I called Ed to see if he was available for a beer. He wasn't so I went for an effortless jog
that took me a full kilometer beyond my usual range, before I turned around still feeling like I
could sprint home. Knowing the penalty I would pay for doing this, I meandered at a lesser pace
than normal. By bedtime, my level of youthful vigor had settled back into its battered thirty- five
year old container.
In spite of making steady progress, by the sixth day of Bonnie interjecting her practices of
clarity at every opportunity, she grimaced at my unusual number o f errors at such a torrid pace
that I began to feel as though my personality was fragmenting along character fault lines. My
mind finally shut down over a simple menu choice at a Greek restaurant on 4th Street, in
Grinning foolishly, when Andrea asked me what I would like, all I was missing for an
involuntary incarceration in a soft-walled room was the drool as Bonnie explained, -He's
exhausted from eliminating reason. We‘ll share the number three combo, a carafe of house red,
and ice water please. |
-Excellent, | Andrea said, as she always did.
-Now that you know intellectual prowess is your worst enemy, | Bonnie said, facing me,
-you should approach our meetings as if you need them to survive. That‘s what a student would
do at your stage, because they would understand they‘re straddling the old and the new as if they
were options. |
"Before I ask you why they‘re not options, how do I know what about intellectual