For a wedding

Yves Saint Laurent said: "The most beautiful make-up of a woman is passion. But cosmetics [or aftershave] are easier to buy."

If you kill passion, you kill all joy and pain, suffering and delight, goodness and evil, beauty . . . and life.

Passion is the source of energy, persistence, creativity, thinking, and of love.

Passion is the power that helps you overcome obstacles and reach your goals.

It is the magic that keeps you together and strong.

It will also keep your feet warm when any chill wind threatens your door.

Never set aside or lose your passion, because you can’t buy, steal, or borrow it. And you also mustn't lend it, or take it for granted.

Treasure and delight in your passion now and always.

Disculpa plantilla?

[Over the past few years, long lost friends and flames have contacted me. We have reached that age and stage. The "existential angst" I have felt with not knowing how to respond to these messages from the deep blue past gave birth to this template. I confess I have not actually used it.]

I am not very good at this--connecting or re-connecting with people. Some character flaw, I guess. Plus, I have become more of a loner and recluse these past fifteen years. Life's buffet has not served up the right choices, or I have chosen poorly.

Suffice to say, I am indeed still kicking and intend to for as long as possible. I appreciate and have made a religion of truth, beauty, and goodness. I use my talents and energies to discern and understand "what is." I am in good company, but certainly not special--neither a leader-to-follow nor exemplary parishioner. But I do my best to enjoy the moments and the visual and other candy that I discover each time I open my eyes, or close them.

I am happy to know you are here, too. I have strong and weak memories, some surely repressed, of the times we were together. It would be nice to sit and go through these. Who knows what would surface? I am sure there would be discoveries to delight, or perhaps dismay us. Regardless, it would be worth the effort. And it would allow us to share again a relationship-love that brought us together in the first place, caused by fate or fashion. And that surely has joy, sometimes laughter, associated with it.

Unfortunately for now, I am one of those who is limited. Call it economically challenged. I will travel to Mexico in a few days and try not to disappear (France would have been preferable). I have had to swallow hard and work on digesting the latest necessary corrections in the course of a life. I am not sure where my one-way ticket will finally take me. At least I can work on languages and cultures still, perhaps find a caretaking or other low profile job.

As you can see, it is difficult for me to get close. I use language and other defenses. My intent is not to do this, but for now I still find it necessary to cover the sadness and pain that otherwise can overwhelm me. In person I am still presentable. I am fit and healthy, handsome in a grayish sort of way, positive, and whatever else. I am not embarrassing to be with in public or one-on-one. Normal in everyday life, if that is descriptive of anyone--I doubt it is. I evade groups.

I cannot account for what has happened over the years. That is a kind of writing I was never good at and have decided not to try anymore. Suffice to say I am here now and glad to be able to say hello. If this is not the strangest message you have received from a distant someone, I would be happy to hear from you again. I will do my best to respond, but it may take some time. As I said, communicating and connecting are challenges for me, and I am flying below the radar, not entirely by choice.

End of August, 2007

Un-i-sex

She stopped by the other day and told me the latest. I have become the listener now in our relationship. It was different before, but now it is this way. And I don't mind. In fact I like it. Listening is a way of relaxing in a conversation, isn't it? And even one's silence and patience have an effect. Or if it is just acknowledgement that you have understood, if you understand that way of listening, that can help too. I mean understand the other person. So I am fine with it. But this is not about me.

She said that Brad had stopped by her desk at the office and shuffled about. She didn't get--until he had to come right out with it that he wanted to buy her a coffee--that he was really doing that, trying to invite her. She said that she was so dense. I didn't agree. But maybe she is. Anyway, she met Brad, maybe it was Starbuck's. She was all out of sorts. It had been raining by then and she had forgotten her umbrella. She was all wet with her briefcase from the office and some packages she had picked up from Lacey's. They were holding them for her. And she wanted to take them home. New things she said she needed. Some even sexy, although I know she wasn't going to show them to anyone. There was no one in mind, no one current. In fact, there had never been to my knowledge. We have known each other for a long time, and I think I would know. No, there is no one. But this Brad. She said he was nice. They talked about work. And then she left. Just like that. I asked if there was anything else. Something he did or said. She said no, nothing. I asked about whether they would be meeting again, and she said that was a curious question. Of course they would see each other at the office. It was like that with her. She never seemed to wonder about things. I mean men and how they might be interested. She didn't even talk about being attractive for guys, although I know she takes care of herself. She really does. She always looks great. But who am I to talk like this? It's really none of my business. But in a sense I guess it is. I am listening. She tells me these things. Sort of makes it my business. But I don't think it is my place to ask questions. Not questions like that.

So Brad came and went, I guess. Just like so many others. And no word from her about anything more, anything juicy. Anything romantic. Maybe she just doesn't have it in her. No, that is not it. I think she just doesn't pay attention.

I remember John. He was a looker. I saw him once. They shook hands when they parted, although to me he looked a bit awkward about it. She extended her hand first, and he hesitated a moment then took her hand. They shook as business people do. I guessed that that was how she wanted it. I didn't think all these things at the time, just an impression. But now that I am telling you, that is how it seems. When we talked about him, and I said he seemed nice, she said he was, and that was that. Off she went on some other subject. I think it was about a weekend she was planning, a spa weekend, to get away from work "and everything." I never knew what "everything" was. Her life seemed to be work, a bit of shopping, exercising at an aerobics center. Her social life was a kind of mystery. I only heard about stuff when she wanted to talk. And her need to talk--can I call it that?--came and went. So I don't know about everything.

I tried to put together when she needed an ear and when she didn't. My life, after all, was not all that exciting. But hers, well, hers could be, or could have been. Sometimes she was stunningly beautiful in a natural sort of way. She dressed very well. You'd expect that of a businesswoman today. Well, she is not so much a businesswoman as a career girl. Administrative assistant, I think they call it. But she dressed the part and more. Perhaps it was the firm she was with. I mean a dress code, maybe unspoken. I don't know. Anyway she didn't even have to dress that way to look fabulous. So she got lots of attention just because, because she looked the way she does. Her beauty is physical, yes. But there is something else. I guess it is what people mean when they say it comes from the inside. She is definitely beautiful from the inside, and out.

She smiles a lot. She is friendly. She is talkative, but also a listener. And the way she listens, she draws you right in. You become special. But when you act, I mean men, they act on that special feeling they get when they are around her, off she goes, literally. Or changes the subject, about the weather or sports or, you know, she avoids getting personal. It is conscious. But I think sometimes it is not. More like something she's learned, from her childhood or something. She just isn't interested in getting personal, except with me, I guess, and I am sure with members of her family, especially her brother. Her brother seems to be important in this way. Anyway, she is beautiful. And if she feels she has flaws or is in any way less than what she is, she doesn't talk about it, not with me.

Thom was someone she talked a lot about for a while. Then one day she stopped. We were having lunch, and I asked about him. I joked that a Thom could sound like a T or a Th. I preferred the latter, and I asked her which she preferred. We laughed a bit, said the Th sounded better. She said he was interesting but that she would not be seeing him again soon. I asked if he was married. She said no, but that he would be out of town a lot, and "he said he was very busy." This way of saying it caught my attention, but I let it go, for at that point she looked out the window and commented on the approaching clouds. She said she thought it would rain, although the weather-cast had not said so. There was a brief silence. I tried to prolong it by not saying anything. Like making a space for her to say something more, something she really wanted to say. And then she began talking about her brother.

He seems to be in the picture, but I know he lives quite far away. I guess they talk on the phone. No, they do talk now that I remember. I haven't paid much attention, but come to think of it, she mentions him a lot. He is younger and apparently has had some terrible experiences with women. They seem to have dumped him, always dumping him. She never went into details, but it seemed that frequently she was counseling him by phone on how to cope, how to understand what happened, what women were like, all that sort of stuff. I guess he pretty much relies on her and she, from her distance, takes care of him.

One time I asked her what she said to him. What was the advice and stuff. She began by saying you know how women are. And I said I didn't. No one is allowed to generalize in my world, and I think whether man or woman, neither can say how it is with the general other. So I won't venture a comment or opinion even where my own sex is concerned. She said that was interesting, "very intriguing," she put it. And then she gave a couple of examples of what she said to her brother. She said that women were people too and that because one did not choose to continue in a relationship with him did not mean that he caused it, a break that is. Each person has her own issues, like expectations. I liked that. Each person has her own issues. And then she said something like maybe you were doing something that somehow turned the girl off. I thought this interesting also, because it is this awareness of what she does that I don't think she has, I mean in relation particularly with men. But I could be wrong. Obviously I must be, if she is giving that advice to others. Especially to a man, if a brother counts as a man, which I think he must, right?

Well, all this is for nothing. She is a wonderful person with a lot going for her. She is kind of old not to have had a serious relationship, particularly for a person as attractive as she is. Twenty-nine and never been kissed. I don't actually know that, but about the virginity I'm pretty sure.

One time the subject came up. Our conversations are not as freewheeling as I would like, otherwise we would have been clear on this subject long ago. She certainly knows my story on that score, for sure. I guess she holds herself back with me, too. Anyway, she said she just didn't feel like other women she knew. She felt kind of a-sexual, or that she didn't really didn't know what sexy was. She said she had felt something funny, and scary, once with someone she liked a lot. I asked it this person was male or female. She gave me a strange look and didn't answer but continued talking about how she thought she did not fit in that world. When it came to parties, she said she found herself by herself or talking to different people. Sometimes a man would come up and say something cute, but she always brushed it off. She said these lines, she called them "lines," were curious but basically not credible. That was it, she focused on the line as if from another planet and not in any way related to what the other person really was trying to say. I said that was very interesting, what did she think they wanted to say. She said they were probably not going to say, whatever it was. And because of that, she didn't need to respond, except politely and briefly. She said they were hiding themselves, and if that is what they wanted to do, she would respect that. I said that was also interesting, but maybe a man and a woman did not have to spell it all out to each other. At that she said that if the whole business of flirting and sex and anything more was based on this deception, she would prefer not to play. At that I asked her whether or not she had ever kissed a man. She said she hadn't and fell silent. So I put it another way. Had a man ever kissed her? She said yes, and fell silent again. I said "Well?" She said, "That's it. That's all there is to say. I have never had sex with a man."

I take her at her word. And I feel I got pretty close to the truth then. I am no threat to her, and so disclosing to me is pretty safe. She has said as much. And so I don't go off and speculate about what really happened. I think if she wants me to know, she will tell me. And I don't need to know. It is she not me who is, like, leading this relationship, our friendship.

My next question was about other women, because she sometimes talked of people she knew who were, she said, pretty or attractive. I think she used the word pretty. So often did she use this word to describe someone that I had a small voice inside me that said that there was something there. Why would she say someone was pretty and then go on to describe what she looked like, what she was wearing, and so forth. It was like that with Melanie. She talked about Melanie several times over the course of several months. I think it was last year. By Christmas, however, the name disappeared. I asked about her once or twice, like with Thom, but she said something like Melanie no longer had the time of day for her. Same story, I guess. I wondered what that meant, especially when she said that Melanie had a different life and friends and was always busy when she called. Well, I just thought that explained enough. But there was one thing. I think Melanie held a special if temporary place in her life. There was a kind of sadness or bittersweet quality to how she said she no longer had time for her. It was the faintest suggestion, but I thought I saw it in her eyes before they averted mine. Sometimes I stare while listening. I think I must appear pretty intense, or interested. Maybe I unnerved her.

From time to time she would comment ever so briefly about some woman passing by or sitting over there in the coffee shop. We often met there, the one near my work, not hers. She seemed to notice. Not so much clothes as the face, the lips, or her figure. I don't know. It is just a feeling. Don't women talk more about what other women are wearing, not so much about how fit they are or how sensuous their lips are? You tell me.

Anyway, I have nothing much to go on in this department. But my point is that there is a singular lack of any relationship she talks about. It is all about surfaces and he is nice, or pleasant. It never seems to go deeper. She does not seem to be hiding but then again it seems she is. And why would she from me?

From time to time, especially lately, I have thought I should just stop being the listener. Maybe I should talk about me and my sexual fantasies and such. Maybe my problems. But I have yet to change the way we meet and enjoy each other's company. I guess it is more about her, but I enjoy being with her and hearing about how things are going.

Often it is about some thing. Something she is currently interested in. And she has a wide range of interests that have nothing to do with relationships, men and all of that. For example, lions. She went through a lion stage. She researched them, downloaded documentaries, borrowed books from the library about African predators and such. She went on and on sometimes about those lions. The mating also. Sometimes when she talked about that and the role of the lioness, it was like she got some kind of energy. Pent up sexual frustration, my shrink would say. I don't know. But what she had to say was interesting. Then she went off on how big our galaxy is. She sounded like some kind of star-struck kid, one that just could not get enough of how damn big the universe is. She measured stuff in millions and millions of light years and all of that. It was like she was in a constant state of wonder. Sometimes she would catch herself and stop and ask if she was being too adolescent or something. I would say she was, and she would stop. It was like these worlds of things, or animals, were a kind of strong attractor drawing her in by some force greater than herself, maybe outside herself. I don't know. It just seems like a big thing for her sometimes. And I guess she goes off on these subjects with men who strike up conversations with her. I wonder what effect that has. Maybe they would rather have the conversation center around the nothingness of getting eventually into each other's pants or something.

Is she frustrated? Not at all, I guess. Me? That's another story. I hope I haven't said something here I shouldn't have.

Cozumel

[Before I arrived, I was obsessed with a kind of human geography. What was it like? Thus the first released some of this energy. Then the music and colors of the everyday caught me. The second part. I realized I could not finish either to the extent I wanted to, and that they deserved. Thus each part is unfinished. An exercise in the end, I guess.]

1

San Miguel, a town of about 80,000 residents, sits on the leeward side of Cozumel Island, and swells to 100 or more thousand when tourists come to stay, or multiple cruise ships disgorge shoppers. Known as Cozumel, the town is laid out in a grid with streets running north and south and east and west, many one way.

From the sea in the west moving eastwards, there is first the main tourist shopping street, Rafael Melgar. It runs north and south of the center where ferries from the mainland arrive and depart. The east-west street dividing the town roughly in half is Benito Juarez. Melgar is lined with shops for about ten long blocks, and beyond this, luxury hotels and condominium projects are scattered north and south. They mostly avoid the foot and taxi traffic that make Cozumel's, if you can call it this, downtown bustle. The shopping and tourist area continues from the center eastwards two blocks till 10th Avenue, a main thoroughfare running south to north. Thus forms a rectangle about ten blocks by two blocks for English and Spanish speakers, pedestrian friendly and colorful, where the tourists police in khaki shorts safeguard the economy.

Continuing east, another section of town begins on 10th. This is mostly a locals shopping area, dotted with small hotels and houses with room-for-rent signs. This area includes a locals market for daily food, necessities and sundries. This section runs to 30th Avenue, making another rectangle about ten by four blocks.

North and south of the center from the sea eastwards, bordering both the tourist and locals shopping areas are posher neighborhoods where the wealthy absentee, expatriate, or sunbird hides behind high walls and imposing facades. These neighborhoods mostly shed their foreigners around 30th Avenue.

Extending six blocks from 30th eastwards and bordered by the outskirts of town north and south, there is a mixture single family and small apartment houses, small businesses, and all manner of eateries and miscellaneous services, many situated in the front or as a part of private homes. There are several large stores for building materials and such along 65th, another main thoroughfare.

From 65th north and south and east to 100th or more, there are neighborhoods and parks and mom-and-pops and bars with cement floors and plastic chairs and tables, a landscape of unfinished dwellings, and some that look as if they have been constructed using the last hurricane's debris.

A short canopied jungle borders or surrounds all developed areas and encroaches onto vacant lots and wherever it can. To the north of town, there is a military base and the international airport. Further, opposite luxury condominium and high rise hotels, there is a golf course with several resident reptiles on about the tenth T.

The town will grow into the jungle areas as the population grows. A public-minded housing project of 1,000 very small and modest homes begins to rise beyond the current southeast outskirts near a state university branch campus.

Running through town in roughly a north-south line is high ground, from one or two meters above sea level to about eight, less than a town block wide. Although logically a desired location to avoid overflowing streets when it rains, this raised spine of limestone hosts structures as diverse as the non-tourist areas of town itself.

Local sources and incident records show Cozumel to be a safe place, but there are neighborhoods where caution is wise. The tourist areas are carefully monitored by different police forces. However, as safe as these areas are, everyone local is being paid by someone or some business to hook any foreign looking person into a place of business to spend money. Dollars exchange hands more often than pesos, and competition reigns. Prospective customers hear the offers of another adman as the pitch from the previous has hardly settled into the distance of a few steps away. It is a feeding frenzy when the streets are crowded.

The central Plaza, Benito Juarez, draws tourists and locals alike each week for concerts, extravaganzas, fiestas. One block from the Plaza the, Church of San Miguel rings its bells daily and nightly for services for locals and shy or curious others who listen from the sidewalk and pedestrian areas.

2

Pastel skies greet the early riser while a tree iguana big as a tomcat watches and waits in a tree.

Shacks and shanties outnumbered by other dwellings not much better, unfurnished, concrete and block, graying in the sun, washed by warm rains, dark holes with dirt or wood floors, hammock limited in sway for the moped that serves also as necessary furniture just inside the doorway.

Adult-sized tricycles, two wheels front, carrying silent Mayan women, slowly peddled through neighborhoods, morning and evening by older men. Or carrying wares announced by a monosyllabic clap or bell or horn or whistle. As if to say, "I have this today. Don't hurry into the sun. I am not going anywhere very fast. I can wait for you."

The rains down pour as if from the bottom of a bucket with peso-sized holes. Streets flood and deep waters carry waste flushed up from shallow sewers incapable of taking it all away for hours or a day and a night. Or the waters drain into underground caverns which take it somewhere, some say out to sea.

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep. A truck broadcasts bottled water or cooking gas for sale, up, down and around the corner and into the distance, now and then interrupted by the silence of an unseen purchase.

Boom boxes and street speakers stationery or mounted on beater cars or the semblance of trucks. They tell the world of promotions, a salsa band, candidates, or they just infiltrate the days with rap and base. The many heartbeats evidencing life in a something other clime.

Front porches and entries of private homes morph into eateries. Up to five ride on scooters meant for one or at most two. Penniless and barefoot, they ask for money and are offered food. Swarms of mosquitoes chase editable you if a jungle explorer you dare to be.

Musical horns and drums and groups of marchers practicing for imperfect exhibitions celebrating what? Each after dark or early in the morning for hours getting ready for or having events that have all in uniform but not quite in step.

Gringos and romantics walk, bike and drive to the western shore for an unobstructed sunset that along with steep, tall clouds turn the edge of the world into a single-performance-only spectacle.

Behemoth boats belch forth shoppers and hedonists for daylight diversions. Some only reach the mall at the foot of the pier. Others venture up and down the main seaside street. A few penetrate interior avenues till the local scene intimidates, or their vessel beckons them back blaring hoarse horns not to miss the scheduled departure.

Dogs lie lifeless in scrapes of shade. If not homeless, they sit atop roofs and fences in the evening protecting property when it is cooler. Some do not survive the night for another listless day, slain from neglect or taken by exacerbated natural causes.

Tourists and locals come and go and discover money is either easy to spend or hard to come by. Best make the best of things while there's work to be done or things left to see and do before the glitter and magic fade and it is there you are and life's like that again another day.

Dancing on glass from the broken oven door

1 - April 24, 2008

COMPLAINT

Declaration: The owner rented an apartment to Mine "Kit" Teague about three months ago. Two weeks ago Mine showed she was losing her mental ability. She has threatened me two times. She makes noise late at night and throws things from her apartment onto the street. It is almost impossible to talk to her. She said she stopped taking her medicine. She has damaged the oven and sink in the apartment.

Received: Direccion General de Seguridad Publica, Transito y Policia Turistica, Cozumel, Q. Roo

2 - Sometime before the 24th

It is hard to describe my second meeting. It too was brief, but it seemed to me a lot happened in a very confined space in a short time.

She did not appear to be at home. I called as I approached the door, walking carefully across the terrace. I knew there was a dog. Closed doors in this climate usually signal no one at home. In hindsight, no one was.

Kit answered my knock by asking me from inside to open the door. I did and Uftie, her dog, shot out of the apartment without so much as a who-are-you and disappeared somewhere. I stepped inside onto a wet and greasy floor. Kit was sitting on the bed to my left. I told her I had her phone bill. I wanted to say here is a copy. You can pay it when you have time. I could not utter the words.

She dismissively said, "Give it to me. I will study it."

She asked me to sit down. I said I was just there to deliver the copy of the bill.

The apartment was dark and dank. But I was only dimly aware of this. Kit took command and asked me to sit down again. I reluctantly did, and she began talking I don't remember about what. It was all jumbled up. It was like stream of consciousness interspersed liberally with snippets of this and that to enhance her credibility or self worth or superiority. She asked me to put on my glasses. I saw nothing to read, and so I ignored this. Then she asked me to close the door. I sensed no danger from this woman in her fifties, who appeared much, much older. There we were both in the dark.

She opened a drawer and took out a broken pot pipe and asked me if I. I said no. She quickly said something about under a doctor's care in Hawaii and that she needed it to clam her nerves. I remember wondering what could she be nervous about, and why was the door closed in this heat? She put the pipe down after having made an attempt to light it. There was no flame from her lighter and no pot in the pipe to light.

My defenses began to arise from some depths, but I was not worried. Give the old lady my ear for a few minutes and disappear. In fact I was older.

Then she arose from the bed and began insisting and interrogating without waiting for answers.

"What is your education? Where did you go to school? Put on your glasses. You are too young to know anything about bookkeeping and accounting. When I was in New York, why I . . . for 91 people. I know the law. I went to law school. Would you like some [pointing to the empty pipe again]?"

Her voice and body became animated, excited, borderline hysterical.

"And look at this!"

She opened the oven door and the tempered glass, what was left of it, fell in pieces onto the wet floor around her feet.

I began watching. I suppose shock was setting in. She yelled at me again to put on my glasses. She danced on the broken glass on the floor. I just stared at the oven door. It seemed that there was more missing than the glass. I just stared at the glass on the wet floor. I then stared at her now walking on the glass saying that her father taught her about glass. He was in the glass business.

"See, it won't cut you."

She yelled now. "Look at me. Look at me. What are you, stupid?"

I finally came back from a kind of stupor and met her eyes. She was smiling as she insulted me. I asked how it happened. She said a rock hit it. Didn't make sense to me, but maybe somehow the dog, or?

She sat down again on the edge of the bed. I said I would be going. There is your bill. She said sit down. Want a cup of coffee? I said no thanks and began to leave. She held out her hand as if to shake mine. I decided not to, gave my own pregnant pause and left.

I saw no dog as I walked away.

3 - Just recently

I got a copy of an e-mail Kit had sent to someone on Cozumel. It said she would be visiting soon with her new husband, Chris Isak. I recall when disposing of her rancid belongings that there was a copy of a CD with his song, "Speak of the Devil," on it.

Dialogues 11-23 (DRAFT)

A, a professor
B, a broker
C, B's wife
D, a student
Darrel, a student
R-O, a voice

11

Tell me again why you don't like the class? D asked.

C I think it is all a bit artificial. And what can we do with a bunch of words about someone's, for example my, subjective experience? It is all too-too.

Too wordy? It seems that way to me sometimes, but I do see some value. Entertainment for one. Aren't we all interested in the stories of others, our soap opera lives? gossip?

I guess so. But on TV, not in some class portfolio which will never be of any use to anyone else.

And if we can describe as precisely as we can what it is we experience or have experienced, aren't people like social workers and psychologists, and school teachers for that matter, likely to benefit? To see how the other's shoe fits.

Yes, I suppose you are right. But if I think about my work. That is, my volunteer work. Who has time to read all of that? Aren't we more interested, and tired at the end of the day, to just sit in front of the tube?

Yes. But someone has to write all of that so that it can air. As I look around, all I can see is that we either produce this stuff ourselves or we consume it from whoever else. It's all just stories, and some, the true ones, I think can be, well, useful. But you have a point. I suppose there is a lot of crap you have to sift through to find what entertains, or what can be helpful to . . . or . . .

She continued. And is this why you only turned in one assignment for Professor A?

I tried really hard on the first one. Then I just didn't have time. Looking in the mirror is interesting at first, but it is more fun or something to get up in the morning, choose a nice outfit, put on my face, and go out, to be busy, to help others. I like real mirrors, like in my bathroom, and the one in the bedroom.

And what kind of help do you need so much that you are always helping others. In the ways that you do.

What? I am not sure I understand that.

Well, they say that if you need to learn something, teach it. If you need help, you become a helper. What help--you can call it that--do you need?

Oh, I don't think about that.

Well, this course taught me to, and if I do, about what I do, then I find some answers to the questions I have about me and the world and people. But I admit, it is kind of like looking in the mirror all the time. Or the rearview. And sometimes I get all confused and can't sort it out.

D continued. I have my job. That is where I am in the real world. Then I have my studies here, which I think I will continue beyond my degree in December. I'm pretty sure I want to learn more about language, my own and maybe another. Spanish sounds like a good one to learn nowadays. Maybe Chinese, but I am not sure how that will fit with this liberal studies train I am on.

I don't think I will take another class anytime soon. B needs me at home in the evenings. He has taken to going out for evening walks or drives. Or sometimes he just sits in his office. I think he is bored. Or caged up.

Men are like that. If they are not doing something, they get bored. Let them out of the cage, then they stray. I have had a stream of bored or misunderstood men come up to me.

Has B come up to you? I mean I think he kind of likes you.

That is a direct question. I am surprised you're asking me. But no, he has not. I never see him. Well, not lately. He came to the coffee shop that one time. Remember. And there was one other time, at the coffee shop as a matter of fact. But I suppose he told you about that. We had quite a conversation, at least it started off on a funny note.

I don't think he told me.

He came in and I was sitting there. Computer and all. It was the afternoon I took off work to finish one of my assignments, for another class. He comes up and says, I don't care if you think I am gay or not. And I said, I don't care one way or the other if you are.

Strange.

I thought so too. But it turned into a great laugh. We talked like that for about five or ten minutes, playing around. Then he sat down and asked me what I was doing there. I told him. And he asked a bunch of questions, about A actually. I think he was interested in what you were up to on your girls' night out, with me.

Oh. He didn't think there was something. . . . He didn't mention seeing you.

Pretty innocent. Nothing's going on. Besides, with a twinkle in her eye that C missed, I haven't seen him since. He is still your husband, isn't he? The gay thing hasn't gotten in the way of everyday domesticities?

What? Are you crazy?

Just kidding.

Oh. Maybe he misses something in me, more kidding in fact. Sometimes he does that and I just don't get it. I have a hard time getting into games and such. Like that.

That is what interests me now. I want to know more about how talk, the language and verbal games we play, sort of create our realities. The fun ones and the serious ones. We didn't really get into that very much with A. And I thought that was what the course was about, where it was supposed to go. So I have signed up for more. Did you know I will be his office assistant for the summer term?

No. That's nice. But how will you balance that with work?

Don't know yet, but I need to put more important things first in my life, like you do with your community work.

Oh, that. It keeps me busy.

Well it is a good way. For now, I want to try this way for me. Work for me is less and less about personal satisfaction.

12

A I would like to ask you to help me do something.

D Sure, what is it.

It is pretty simple, really. I am going to go out into the commons and sit on a bench. Just sit there. You either stay here and go to the window and watch me till I get up and start walking back to the building, or you go to another building and window, or even outside somewhere. I don't want to know where. And you just watch me.

That is it?

Yep. Well, one or two more details. We need to time this. I will sit down on the hour, when the clarion rings. I will be out there for about a half an hour. You just note the time you start and the time you stop watching me. Write it down.

Are we doing some kind of telepathy experiment?

No, nothing like that. Just watch. I will let you in on the details after I sort my experience out. I don't know how long that will take, but I will let you in on the idea. I am not sure if it is going to go anywhere. Your participation can help me decide.

Sounds a bit mysterious, but I am game. Just look at you, watch what you do.

Yea, just watch. Don't worry. I won't be wearing a trench coat or do anything strange or embarrassing.

Okay. When do we begin? Today?

Yes, in about ten minutes. You have another hour here. We'll be finished before you have to go to wherever it is you do after you serve your time here.

I don't look at it that way.

I'm glad. So, I will be off in a few minutes. When the bell rings. I won't be looking for you. In fact, I don't want to know where you will be. You can tell me afterwards.

A left the office five minutes later. He was seated on the east side of the commons in the shade when the bell rang.

13

Do I get the inside on your, your, whatever it is you are doing?

Not yet. I should have something this evening. If you would like to stop by, I can sort of talk it through with you. I am a little tired or myopic, talking to myself about this. All can be revealed later today or the next time you are in, whatever is convenient. And I would appreciate being able to talk about it. As a matter of fact, you are perhaps the best person now to talk about it with.

14

So, I have sort of gotten my first results from this afternoon. I am not sure where to begin. I am afraid I have not got this thing conceptualized properly.

A thought and seemed to drift off somewhere. D sensed he must be tired.

She asked, Would it be better to talk when you are further along, or tomorrow perhaps?

No, no. It is okay. I just am not sure where the beginning began. It might have been in the course you took from me last term. That was an interesting experiment, probably more for me than you or the other students. In any case, that is probably where it started.

He thought a moment longer.

I know. Let's start with you. Your first assignment, I think it was. You did a description of being attractive and getting attention and what that felt like. Or what that experience was for you. Remember?

Sure. It came from first hand experience and those assignments, or school for that matter, that hooks who you are or who you think you are and tests that, those are the most meaningful. I appreciate the freedom in that class for being able to write those things. I guess you legitimized it for me, for us.

Interesting. Good. Good. That is how it should be. A personal stake in the work, or your education I guess.

Well, he continued. I don't remember all the details of your paper exactly, but maybe it put me over the edge to start a project of my own. I wanted to look into what being looked at, or rather being watched was like.

He continued. My question, still in a rough state, especially after today, is something like what is it like to be the object of someone's intentional watching. There is more to it than that I am sure. For example, if that person is or is not actually being watched. Whether she or he is aware of who or what or where. Attractive or pretty or what. All that aside. Get the idea?

She nodded. So that is something quite different from what I tried to get hold of. My interest was specific to inadvertently being approached and having unwanted attention, because, you know, of being female. Something like that.

Yes, and I can see how you might be interested in that. My compliments.

D's sensors pricked up. She became wary of what A would say next. At the same time, she resented the implication that she was being appreciated for what she looked like and not who she was, her intelligence. She let the comment hang in the air like a pinata, there but only slightly acknowledged. But she was ready to smack it, or at least give it a glancing blow if things went downhill.

A continued without skipping a beat, which seemed to take the edge off what he had just said.

My interest is a bit different. Take for example someone coming or going in the commons area. You can see them every minute of every day from my office window. I know what it is like to gaze out the window and pick out this person or that couple and follow their steps towards the next building, or between the buildings out to the parking lot, for example. But what is it like to know or suspect someone sees you? Is looking at you from a window and what you are doing, where you are going?

Sounds like you have to set up some kind of experiment, or you have to talk to them, right? Along the lines of surveillance then surveillance disclosed.

Not what I want to do. I want to have the first hand experience and then confirm it somehow without talking to anyone. An impossible task perhaps.

Maybe not. Think of men and women.

D dared to venture back into a subject she would have rather not come up, at least not again, not now.

When people walk, in the commons for example, you can't help but notice others. You see how people dress, whether someone is attractive or strange, or if you know them. We look around all the time and we are aware of that. And so is anyone who stops to think about it for just a moment. I don't think you are far off the mark. Depends on how or what you want to study. Of course, there are those too who are just on their way somewhere without noticing others. Preoccupied we can say.

Or absent minded. But no, I am being facetious. That is helpful. You have a good teacher somewhere. Frankly, I had not entertained this angle and have to think about it. As I said, my question is still a bit rough. Especially after today.

So, do you want me to tell you the details of what I did after you left the office for your stint on the bench?

Yes, but just a moment. I have to give one more bit of background.

A few weeks ago I went out on my own and did some self observation. We can call it a data-gathering instance. First person. I basically stood out in the commons, closed my eyes, and tried to sense what it was like knowing that such unusual behavior might attract at least some extended looks from passersby if not from someone looking out from a window.

Okay.

I had several remarkable sensations. Maybe they were states of consciousness. I am not sure. What I would like to know from today is where you were when you observed me. I don't want to bias myself and the experience I think I had. So, can you tell me?

I went to the social science library annex on the top floor of Bigley. I looked out of the middle window and looked straight at you. I was afraid you would see me, but I don't think you did. Did you have your eyes closed today? I don't think so.

No, I didn't

He thought for a moment.

Well, of course I was sure someone, you, were watching me. That's how we set it up. So all the business about if and so forth got taken out of the equation, or the conditions if I can call them that. But my experience does not seem to have anything to do with where you were. At least that is what I can tentatively conclude.

D was watching A intently. She was observing how he thought. And she was focusing on not his language but on what it was he was trying to do, step by step.

You see, A continued, I had similar sensations today as I did the other time I tried this. But the two experiences do not compare. Or rather, they do but not in the way I thought. Let me just tell you and see what you can make of it.

I clearly felt the first time a warming sensation, like a heat lamp had been directed at my left shoulder and arm. All the time I was being observed, or that I thought I was being observed which may be the same thing. Today I felt the same. I thought it might come from the direction of the observer or observers. But that doesn't seem to bear out. You were looking at me straight on. I wonder what that feeling was. What is the source of it?

You are asking a causal question. Is that what you want to do at this point?

No, you're right. Not at this point. But I have two instances in being observed and knowing it where I had a body-felt sensation. I am quite curious about it.

The other outstanding part of both experiences--I think I know what they were about. Surrender or acceptance. But it doesn't come unless I consciously dispel any danger from you.

I don't understand.

You are the observer. I am the observed. I know you are watching me. If I know you are no threat, I can let my consciousness of you go. Sort of like watch myself being watched. Give you and the experience some distance. I mean internal, psychic distance. The kind you have control over, if you know there is nothing untoward going to happen.

I see. Sort of.

Well, it gets a little complicated from here. That is why I have had to draft as precise a description of what happened to me as possible. No, that is wrong. What I experienced. I am not finished with today's description, but the main elements, or outstanding ones, I think I have pinpointed and without intending to replicate.

Sounds like you are onto something. But this last sentence escaped her. She was getting tired. A noticed.

15

C What's up? How's your day going? Finished work?

B abandoned his private frustration with himself and replied, Great. Yes, I am finished. What's on your agenda?

I just got back from tennis with the girls. We had some iced tea after our court time and critiqued the others from the deck, the ones who took the courts after us. We are pretty bad but you should see some of those guys. Even the men weren't too good. I know it's small but it made us feel good. You know, tennis is a difficult game. Some people should never take it up.

I know.

No. No. You should. It's fun, a social sort of thing. Do you good instead of moping around here.

I am not moping. What about this evening? What have we got planned?

Nothing. I am free. What shall we do? Eat home or out? Go do something?

Say, C, I was thinking. I am getting a little, how can I say it, itchy. Work and things are just not that interesting. Oh, I don't want to do anything silly, but I need a change of pace. A change of scenery. What do you think?

Is this just for this evening, or is it something more than that? I hope it is more, because I was thinking of a cruise.

Oh, no. Not a cruise. All those people and all that food. People just eat on those boats. And dress up. I just can't get into that. Besides, I meet people all the time.

No, you are not. You meet the same people. You have had the same clients, well, some of them for years. And eating. What's wrong with that? It's America's past time, other than shopping. That's it. Let's go shopping and you can help me buy something for Christmas.

It's September. Way too early.

Well, what then?

I don't know. I just can't leave like that. I would have to make sure to watch the markets and be in phone contact.

That's what cell phones and the Internet are for, right? That's what you told me.

Yes.

Well, give it some thought. A cruise. Maybe not a cruise, but something. I am game. Let's go out. Maybe this itch will pass.

16

Here is your wine. And how are we? I am Patty, and I will be your server this evening.

Maybe B's itch was just testosterone coursing through his body. Whether or not it was, he surrendered to the moment.

Hi, Patty. You new here? I haven't seen you before.

Yes, I'm new. I am a poor, starving student.

Well, let's see if we can put some money in your pocket. Are you the best server?

Yep. What would you like?

What are you offering?

Well, we have pizza and pizza. What kind of pie would you like? The vegetarian is pretty good.

C Well, uh . . .

B I would like whatever you recommend. Are you a vegetarian?

No, but I recommend the pepperoni. Hot and spicy.

Sounds tempting.

Hey, what about sharing a pizza?

The waitress shifted from one foot to the other accenting her own shapeliness. B could almost touch her. She was standing close to him, and then he did saying, I will have the hot and spicy. He touched her arm accenting his delight in the moment.

C And what do I want?

Yes, mam?

I would like to share a pizza, B. I can't eat a whole one myself.

Would pepperoni be okay with you?

Yes. What size should we get.

How many does an extra-large serve.

Well, it is way too big for me to eat alone. So I think it would be that or the large.

How big is the large? He held up his hands showing a roundish shape.

The waitress tucked her order pad under her arm, put the pen in her mouth and showed something larger. Through her teeth and pen she said, About this size.

Great, the large then.

It looked like you were salacing there a bit.

What?

It looked like you kind of liked her.

She is too young.

Too young? for what?

Nothing, honey, I was just having fun. Want to catch a movie afterwards?

I don't believe you. Sometimes . . .

What? A man can look, can't he?

Yes, but not touch. It looked like you were trying to touch.

If I did it was just a reassuring gesture. I do it without thinking. It is innocent. You know me better than that.

Yes, I do. But all the same, I wanted pizza, too!

Sorry. Won't happen again.

If it does, I don't want to know about it, or if I do, I will, I will . . .

Kill me?

Probably. Or at least take you to the cleaners.

Never thought of myself as dirty, old. Kind of strong, C. I said I was sorry.

Apology accepted. Now, what movies are there?

17

Darrel What's your name? I haven't seen you around here before?

D.

Well, D, is Professor A in?

No, but he should be back in a bit. I think he just went over to the cafeteria for coffee with someone from the department. Professor Jenkins, I think.

I know her. She's a looker.

D noticed that the visitor was a looker himself and took the lead.

A looker. Is that a technical term?

Why, yes it is. It comes from Domestic Science, what they used to call Home Economics. It refers to that quality in a woman, or a man, I guess, which is kind of slutty but in the end just a great person, someone you would eventually consider marrying. Having both sex appeal and personality. Maybe you?

Sounds like fiction. Particularly the Domestic Science part. I will ignore the slutty remark.

It is, er, fiction. What is your name, by the way?

D. I told you. Perhaps you need to pay attention not just in class. Domestic Science was it?

Ouch. I guess I missed the manners lesson, or the one on how to flirt.

Not to worry. I don't bite, not really.

Too bad.

He was out the door without so much as a see-you-later. D was baffled and a bit flushed. School and work and more work had taken its toll. She had forgotten to have fun. Fun and fantasy. He was good looking, and not too young. Maybe 30?

Two minutes later he was back. I didn't tell you my name. It is Darrel. Darrel Hemlock. People call me Hemi for short. Just so you know.

And he was gone again.

No, not another Darrel, she thought. And Hemlock? What kind of name was that? Cute but dangerous. No one could possibly live with a nickname like Hemi. Hemlock maneuver? No that was something else.

D thought she could also not bear Heimi, and dismissed the encounter and the person based on his name and his age.

D A Darrel Heimlick was looking for you.

A Oh, that's not his real name. What did he want?

I think he wanted something, but he didn't say.

Well, of course he wanted something. Knowing him, probably you. And some money.

He was, well, sort of . . .

Cheeky, I know.

I guess it was that. I don't know exactly why he stopped by.

Well, next time, ask. He's not like the others. The others, if you can take care of it, go ahead. Otherwise I am happy to see them. But I need to see Hemi.

Okay. Could I ask you a question?

Sure.

About your study on being watched. Doesn't it require that the person being watched knows he or she is?

Yes.

And isn't it a bit artificial to go out into the commons and act in a way where everyone or some people look at you?

Look at and watching are two different things.

Yes, I guess that is my point. I think your experiment, the first one, is not in the same domain, can I say, as the second, the one where you know I am watching you from somewhere.

You are probably right.

So which is it you are after?

I am after the second. But I thought the first was perhaps part of the second.

I am not sure what you mean.

I mean that to have one's attention drawn to something or someone is the first step. After that, if the intention is there, conscious or not, then they look at. The next part of the phenomenon is maybe a kind of curiosity, although I would like to avoid causality, which leads to watching. And watching is to understand or see what will happen. Something like that.

So you have preconceived the notion of what it is you are studying. You have it in parts already.

Not exactly. This is just a tentative circumscription of what it is I am after, and right now I know what it is about but not the details or order. I am progressing slowly with tentative hypotheses based on the experiments, or the experiences.

So what is next?

Not sure. I haven't had much time to dream that up. Create it, that is.

May I offer something?

Of course.

Well, going back to being attractive--I am--and getting attention . . .

Like from Hemi.

Okay, maybe like from Darrel. Isn't the important phenomenon, as you call it, the relationship of the subject and object and the object and the subject. Like looking at and being drawn in somehow and then watching is all prelude to a phenomenon which takes two.

I think you are assuming something here, but go on.

Well, if we describe, maybe to understand. That's what it is, isn't it? Aren't we really trying to get at something that we can use or apply, like at my job or in relationships?

Well, you have an interesting point here about a relationship, I mean any kind of relationship which involves people attending to others and vice versa based on their understandings and interpretations of each other. But that is also to organize a phenomenon before it has been looked at in its, say, essential parts or features. Its structure and aspects shall we say.

So I am making the same error you are.

No, not an error. Just you have a different notion of the phenomenon you are after. Are you after that phenomenon? Are you trying to understand your interchanges or feelings or whatever between you and others, like Hemi, I mean Darrel, or other men?

What I am after I don't know. In fact, I don't have time to be after anything. I am too committed. Too busy. And frankly having too much fun with all that I am involved with. Not work exactly. I don't mean this work but my job at the ???.

Let's just say then, that we are each interested in different things, or at least they appear different at this point. Now the other part, the practical part. I am not after practical applications of anything. I am after just getting a sure grip on what it is we deal with. In this case, my case, being watched. And as I said, I am not sure where to take it next. I too have not had much time lately. Any suggestions?

Not at the moment. Maybe it is to get another's take on being watched.

I have your first one, if you let me use it.

You mean that paper from spring term?

Yes, I think it was pretty good. I have looked at the copy you gave me with my comments. It is pretty good. Can you give it to me in electronic form? I could then study it more carefully, with the help of some programs I sometimes use.

Programs?

Yes, thinks like word and phrase counts, tagging and classifying ideas. Things like that.

I didn't know there were such things.

Well, there are. But your own brain and reflections are worth more. The programs just help in verifying things and organizing. So, if you agree, your paper will be one of now three instances of a phenomenon yet to be named or defined more carefully.

Fine. Sounds good.

You look disappointed, or . . .

I just wish I had time to do my own study, or I knew more.

That is why you are here. Why you are in school again. All of that you already know. Be patient. It will all fall into place. Who knows, maybe you will be doing domestic science or something else by the time you finish.

Domestic science? Darrel mentioned that.

Yes, he would. He's been around. Kind of a joke with us.

And A disappeared into his office.

Little boys and their secret games.

18

Whatcha up to? A voice called.

She looked up. It was him. And D immediately noticed he was about 30 plus and very handsome.

Cat got your tongue?

No, no. I just was thinking about something and . . .

Well, tell me about it. Darrel sat down.

I'm sorry. What was your name?

Darrel. But people call me Hemi.

Like hemisphere?

Oh, not so preoccupied after all.

Just getting you back.

For what?

For calling me a slut.

I didn't. I never.

You did, but that's okay. Maybe I am. This weather brings out the beast in me.

Well, if I said something rude, it is because you disarm me.

As in guns?

In a metaphorical sort of way. Like you are too pretty to be for real.

You disarm me.

She paused and then continued. In fact, you are disturbing my peace. You can't just come up looking like you do and sit down and start flirting with me.

Who's flirting?

You are.

Great. Our first fight. I mean disagreement.

Yes, disagreement is better. I hardly know you. I don't know you.

Well, I am easy to get to know. Fire away.

Okay. Are you a student?

I think you know I am. Better question, Miss, er. What's your name?

D. You should know that. I'm, I'm, I am unforgettable.

True. Question.

Okay. Do you live at home with your mother?

Nope. Moved out at 20 and been on my own since. My father's not far away and my mother also lives here in town. Want to meet her?

I think we are moving a little too fast here.

Next question then.

No, you. Tit for tat.

Puzzled Darrel said, Whatever. Let's see. How about, are you married?

That's a question.

And the answer is?

D No. But thanks for asking.

How's that?

Well, a girl likes to know that a man, such as yourself, considers certain things.

Got it. Lost me there for a moment. I thought it was a kind of proposal. A man? Never thought of myself like that. Big boy maybe. But man?

So, how old are you?

That's an inappropriate question.

To ask a woman. But not a man!

Okay. How old are you?

I said not polite to ask a lady that. Fess up. How old are you?

Well, it depends.

On what? You are some, whatever years old. Fact. Easy, straightforward question. Demands a straight answer.

Not easy. You see, if I say something and it is too young, you might not like it. And if I am too old, well, women like older men. I need to err on the side of advantage. Mine. I need to know your age first.

Okay. So tell me your age plus ten years. Then you will have answered the question to your advantage, as you say.

Forty.

Perfect age. I'm, well, I am closer to that than you might think, and that I like. Let's move on.

Whose question is it? Whose turn?

Yours.

I just had mine. It is yours.

19

Where have you been? Several people were looking for you. The Dean and some students.

I was at the library. I found loads of materials on my study. And some materials I can extrapolate from. Life is so interesting. When you start to think about things, they just get more and more interesting, and everything's connected somehow.

I am not there yet. But I am glad you are.

More miles. It is just that I have more miles. You will get there. You are just starting. I hope you are not discouraged yet. You hold great promise. You have been a great help and support to me.

Really? Thanks.

She organized the papers on her desk and summarized what she had done organizing the syllabi for the term. Then she asked, Do you use the Internet to do research and prepare for classes?

A said, Not much. The next step on the syllabi project is to take the files and put them up on my faculty Web site. I thought you could help me with that.

I can. I know a little about web sites.

Other than that, I don't do much for students and the Internet. I don't use the e-college at all. I don't understand it. As to doing background research and stuff, I don't do much with the Internet. I rely on our reference librarian and the holdings in our library, and interlibrary loan. I guess I am old fashioned.

I am taking my final required elective this term. It is the course on doing research and using human subjects. From the Psych department. Well, it is not an elective for them. But for me it is. Anyway, in class the other day, Professor Watkins mentioned a study of participants in laboratory studies. The study, I guess, summarized the experiences of those participants. I thought it related to your work.

Interesting. Did he give a reference?

Yes. I have it in my notes at home. But I can find it for you here.

Great. Could you please give me that.

She turned to her computer and began typing.

Here it is. "What rats think: First person accounts of subjects in psychological experiments." The author is Peter Gustaffson, Ph.D. Sound like something you can use?

Yes. Can we get a copy of it?

Maybe by Internet or through the reference desk. I will check into it. It will take a few minutes.

I will be here, he said as he walked into his office.

20

C Can I get you something?

No answer.

B, are you going to be okay?

Huh?

Are you okay?

Yes, I will be. But I'm . . .

B?

It is like I have been drugged. I have no energy.

Should we take you to the doctor?

Do you want to go to the doctor?

No. No.

I have to go to the ???. If I go, will you be all right?

Yes. I just want to lie here.

Is it like flu?

No. It is my head. It is all foggy.

Maybe you just need some rest.

Yes.

I will go. There is the phone. Call me if you need me. I will be back in a couple of hours.

Hmm.

Okay, then. I'm going.

B slipped back into a stupor.

21

Darrel Hi, what you up to?

D Oh, hi. Just helping out. I am almost finished.

You work here in this office?

I am Prof A's Friday.

Oh. Want to have coffee, and a sweetie?

Is that like offering some candy to a little girl? If so, you're on.

All depends on how you want to take it.

Can I meet you?

I can wait.

It'll be another twenty minutes.

We can meet. At the student union, in the grill.

22

Imagine you are an innocent agent and you have just shot one adversary in the bright sunlight of some foreign country. And around the corner there is a hostile crowd. You have your gun. You just used it, and you are standing next to the body. You hear shouting and yelling from around the corner. Someone or a couple of people come round the corner. Do you shoot? Do you shoot only if they do, or have a gun pointed at you? What do you do? In that moment, it is either your life or not. In that moment, you can kill an innocent person or a hostile one. But you don't know which and they are rounding the corner. Imagine your gun in your hand. Do you raise it? Leave it by your side. Hide it. What?

Well, I don't know. I have never . . .

Well, that is what I am studying. Human action in times or situations of stress or terror. It is a new field, my own invention. It puts together some things I am interested in, plus I can rely on some experience. I want to consult in this field when I finish.

I never. . . . So you were a soldier?

Yes. Kuwait. On God's side, he said with a wry smile.

I have nothing to relate to that. But how is it a course of study?

It is not exactly. It is a combination of fields, military tactics and strategies, criminal justice, peace and protection deployment. That sort of stuff. Plus psychology, of course, and a few other things.

Wow.

And you?

Me? I have nothing to declare. Not as far as specialization, that is. I am just getting back into school. Finishing up my degree this December and beginning next term in the liberal studies graduate program.

So I guess it is premature to ask what you will do with your degree. The master's that is.

Yes, I guess so.

What is your connection with Professor A?

A bit evasively Darrel said, I have been taking a course from him, for a long time. Kind of like a dependent study program. Seems like forever. I am trying to see if I can complete the course without repeating most of what he has set up as requirements. I have done all of that. I just didn't finish on time. One of my problems. I get a little side tracked.

Playing computer games, killing cartoon characters?

Nothing so mundane, but I have been known to stay with a game till its conclusion. I have lost my share of sleep trying to beat the other guy, or the game.

So you are a little bit unconventional.

Not really. Just a procrastinator sometimes, or a slow learner.

How about you? Ever procrastinate?

Sure. I am just finishing my first graduate degree. I started over, well, ten years ago.

Longer ago than that, right?

Yea, you are right. I am 37.

I knew it. I like older women.

Good.

D and Darrel had reached a kind of stopping point, more because of D's doing than Darrel's. She did not want to proceed without caution. Past experience with men who seemed attracted to her--she needed something more she felt. And this was a good start.

23

A It is really a meta-perspective. All fiction is.

D How is that?

Well, regardless of how a story is presented, you know, the different persons. First person, third person omniscient, etc. Whatever that voice, it is of someone. That perspective is the one you get when all matters are reduced. Or, maybe a better way to look at it. That is the voice you hear if you stand way, way back from the text.

So how does this relate to writing in academia or in science, like the human sciences?

Convention often dictates the voice to write in. For example, in biology, you seldom get a scientific paper which is written in the first person. You get carefully crafted disembodied descriptions of method, results, procedures, hypotheses, etc. In psychology, sometimes you get first person accounts, of the same or similar aspects of a study.

Why is that?

Well, I can't fully account for it. That is not my field. However, a simple answer is that there is the recognition in psychology, for example, that the researcher and his or her participation or complicity in the study needs to be shown, or acknowledged. Plus, the results of these studies involving human and group behavior are qualitatively different than other disciplines.

Let's get back to fiction. Why is knowing about or understanding methods of telling stories important for our purposes?

Some of the best descriptions of consciousness are in fictional accounts. Whether they are true or not does not matter here so much as the techniques of telling. If you get a fix on who is speaking and what they are speaking about, you get that much closer to that being talked about. Studying fiction allows us to practice sorting character from narrator from author, for example. And when you are trying to either get a handle on something or to present it, our disciplines, can I say, demand clarity. Reflecting things as they are, as if in a mirror newly Windexed. So studying fiction is a tool. And writing as if an author, not academic, can be enlightening.

I think I am getting enlightened, but the light is too bright. Or it reveals too much to do and to learn.

That is a common enough response. Don't worry. It comes in time, and then you take a lifetime to hone your thinking and presenting.

I guess so. Sounds like my studies will not end with another master's.

Not if you want this badly enough. Are you at that point yet?

Well, this time with you has helped me to focus my lens, if I can say that. Now I am starting to see what is in the frame. And that frame is more, more. I don't know. More complicated that I had even imagined. Last summer I thought I could get in and out of here by just branching out a little in my studies for the next two years. Now I am beginning to think that I will have to pay tuition forever.

Yep. That is about it. Tuition forever. But if you become an academic, tuition is paid and you get to study to your heart's content. If you like young people and teaching as well as an intellectual life, well, you are set. Sort of.

Sort of?

That is a whole other subject. Not for today. You have enough to think about?

Sure do. Plus I've got these. . . .

Yes, and I keep giving you work. Slave labor. But I hope it isn't too boring, or irrelevant.

Not yet.

I am off to the library. I want to look something up. And pick up that article you arranged for me. There might be a student looking for me.

I will see what she wants and . . .

He. Hemi. Just let him wait in my office. If you have to go, that is fine.

Well, I will be here till three. If Hemi does not show up by then, I will lock up.

Good. And thanks.

Thank you. He was off.

Dialogues 1-10 (DRAFT)

A, a professor
B, a broker
C, B's wife
D, a student
Darrel, a student
R-O, a voice

1

D I get this descriptions thing, I think. But I think A is holding back, not telling us the important stuff. The course is just beginning, and he is going through all kinds of examples and such. I don't know what to look for or to write, for God's sake. But the text from the Lord of the Rings was really great. And he said it came from the movie, not the book. What do you think?

C Beats me. I don't know how I am going to use any of this stuff. Three weeks into term and I don't know what it's about. I don't know.

D Well, let's give it a chance. I enjoy having you there in class with me. Like old times, sort of. Plus there are some cute younger guys.

C Sure, but. . . . Well, it had better get more, um, more . . . specific. I am here for the fun of it and it's not much of that, yet.

D Bad news. But hey, I know. Not supposed to be the point. But some of them are nice scenery. Look but don't touch. I'm not into these kids. In college. Whew. Some are so young!

C Well, I haven't seen anything as nice as B. And I'm not looking.

D I'm not either. But you have to look in order to describe, right?

C Hmm. I guess so. But really, D. You are such a persistent pill sometimes.

2

B How was your day?

C Oh. Same old, same old. But I did see Heather Childs today. She said Charlie is in the hospital.

I didn't know that. Is it serious?

No, I don't think so. Something about observation.

So this is not a scheduled visit but something maybe serious.

Maybe. Maybe you could stop by tomorrow afternoon.

For sure. Charlie is a great guy, and he spends a little money with me. Should at least pop in and see how he's doing.

Good. Say, want to watch that new movie at the Cinemax on Friday?

Which one?

The one with that hunk of an actor, what's his name?

You mean the one who is married in real life to that delicious blonde, what's her name?

Boys will be boys. Yes. That one. Pamela, I think. Something. What was his name?

Rock Hudson.

You're kidding.

Nope.

Yes you are.

Let's go. I think she is a great actress.

Of course you do.

3

C This is to die for.

D Everyone says that. We should try to describe the experience of dying from an overdose of chocolate.

Never mind that. You can just say mmm, and there you have it. All the description you need.

Mmm.

Yep.

After each had had two point five mouthfuls, the real death began.

C This is really sinful, and too sweet. I have had almost enough.

C slowly lifted the dessert fork to her mouth with a small corner of the poison.

D Pretty rich, I'd say.

Mmmm.

4

B Are you saving that last bite for me?

D You can have mine too. I have had it. Too rich.

Thanks. What are you girls solving here.

C Chocolate. We had class and came here. Thought we'd sin without being seen. Then you came along. We're busted.

B I love to see others sin. Especially catching them in the act.

C Oh, you don't.

Yes, I do. Especially two beautiful women.

That's suggestive. But we're really innocent. Aren't we D?

That's right. But I did have a big O a short while ago. You missed it. So did C, busy having her own.

This is a different D, thought B.

C Whether I did or didn't I can't say.

I'd like to have been a fly on the wall and seen what was going on before I came.

Seen? You mean heard. C was screaming. Well, not exactly too loud, but it was with delicious pleasure all the same.

I think we can change the subject.

Yes, I suppose so.

B How was class?

D Great. It is too bad it meets just once a week. I think it is going to be really my best class this term. I mean the one I am most interested in. That is the way of electives. They are like icing on the cake. In fact, they are like this cake, all icing.

You mean the course is that good? Like to die for, or sex.

It is sexy, but in the way of being so tempting, and each time I approach each new topic, my heart literally starts pounding. I find so much there to think about and apply to . . . life. You know, in my own . . . struggles.

You don't have struggles.

Hmm, yes I do. And this course, maybe it is the readings or Professor A. I prefer to work on this course and go to class. My other courses are great. But this is greater.

Got it for the Professor, eh?

Nothing like that.

Oh.

No. Right C? He is nice looking and all. But too old for me. But when he opens his mouth or writes something on the board, my senses come alive. The words just touch me somehow.

Touch you . . .

Yes. But not what you are thinking. Bad boy. C you really have to pay more attention to your husband's, er, cravings, for chocolate cake or something.

I do. Don't I, dear?

Yes. Yes. We're not talking about that. And what about you. Do you find the course as stimulating?

I do. I think. I am not sure exactly. D is used to this kind of stuff. I am more practical or something. If stories, for example, are what make our reality, how do stories get to be the same and have the same meanings? I can't quite make sense of that. A said that tonight. I don't know.

Well, I think you have summarized the topic for this evening's class, and I also think we did not get to an answer. I think we need to go deeper. That is why I am excited. More readings of Germans in translation, I think, plus more from A. For sure he's holding back. I think he thinks we should somehow find the answer through experience. I just don't know what that would be other than coming up with our own descriptions.

Like the cake?

Yea, like the cake. As difficult as it can be to do, we should try to do it, in words.

B You've lost me. I am back there with cake, or sex. And that is all pretty interesting. How your course has anything to do with cake is beyond me.

Well, that's why I am taking the course.

Oh.

Yes, it is sort of like that. And it is getting late. Must be about my beauty rest.

Let's pay and call it a night. I have to go to work in the morning.

And I have to get up early.

They packed up books, notebooks and bags, and B paid at the cashier's.

It is nice to see you again, D, said B.

Next week if not before.

Can we give you a lift? C said to D.

D No, I can walk.

For a woman to walk home in the dark after ten was quite safe in ???. D felt safe, and C and B felt comfortable letting her go. ??? had little experience with muggers and stalkers and crime. A safe haven in a world of voyeurs and others.

Were you flirting with D?

Yes. But let's go. I have to get up early.

5

Professor A, may I have a word with you? she asked standing in his office doorway.

Of course. You are? Thursday's talking-talk class, aren't you. D. A lot of younger students in there, aren't there? Well except for my . . .

Yes, well. I was just interested in knowing more about something that we, well, talked about last week. I spent some hours on the weekend thinking about reflection and reflexivity. I can't quite understand these things. I know I should. They are pretty common words, and I have done some of the readings.

Sit down. Sit down. Well, you wouldn't be the first to meditate on these words. After all, books and articles and at least half the departments in the university use these terms. Why, literature studies alone nowadays is replete with histories of contemplation, contemplating one's navel that is. What is it about them you are having trouble with.

Well, I wasn't meditating exactly. I guess I just don't understand what we are trying to do in class. How reflection fits in, I guess.

You mean how reflection fits into your studies.

Yes, I suppose.

Reflection is always personal. It takes a subject. Hmm. That won't do.

A stopped for a moment and looked up to the ceiling as if the answer were written somewhere up there.

Let me see if I can conjure up a simple definition for our purposes. Let's say I have an experience. And I sense it is remarkable in some way. I think about it, after I have had it. That is reflection. Looking back to see what was there. But not only that, how I experienced whatever that was too.

That's pretty simple. I think I got that far already. But I don't usually do it, I mean myself, looking back, that is. But I see what you mean. But why is it so important for our purposes, as you said. Maybe I just am feeling a bit primitive in that that is not something I usually deliberately do. I just usually do, whatever, anything. And I don't give much thought about it. Afterwards that is.

Interesting. You just did.

What?

You just looked back, on yourself or your behavior. Not specifically maybe, but back all the same. And you . . . no, let's let that go.

We may be missing something. Let me see if I can conjure up an example this time. Something to show how it might be important for, for. . . . Let me see.

He looked up at the ceiling again.

I have it here. For 'who we are and what is possible for us'. The course description.

Okay. I think I am following you.

I look out my window and I see students walking to and fro. In the commons right out there. And I observe one or many for a time, today. And then I turn around and ask two questions. What did I experience? and how did I experience it? Simplified phenomenology al la Husserl, for example. He would not see it quite so simply, I'm afraid, but that is beside the point. The two questions are the reflection. Now, after I sort out these questions, provided of course I eliminate any and all preconceptions about the students, where they are coming from, where they are going, that they are even students, I should have something like a pure or unadorned description. That is what reflection can do for you. Gives you another experience, if you will, to most precisely describe another it in the immediate or distant past.

This is getting a little deep. But if I do all of that, once I get it into my brain, and it will for sure take longer than having the first experience itself, what is it good for?

Indeed it will take longer than the immediate experience. And the point, if you want to frame it like that, is what you uncover, maybe what you discover.

Okay. Just another experience, right? I mean you do something and then you look at it from different angles. And that looking, I guess I would call it, is another experience. And I can look at that, and so on. Seems like a never ending story, I mean fiction, to me.

I guess you can look at it that way for now, but I wouldn't stop there. You have to do the description before you can judge its worth. I think you will find you are not thinking or writing fiction. Far from it. Just as you have to experience something to appreciate it fully versus talking about it before the fact. Give it a try. That is how I have set it up for you. Assignment two, due next class, in a few days. Have you started writing yet?

No. I guess I was sort of stuck over the weekend. This has helped. But what does watching what is going on outside your window, for example, lead you to? It is kind of like the ivory tower, if I can say that. If I told anyone at work, they would say . . .

Don't worry about that or them. When I finish my study, I will let you see it.

You mean you are really going to do this exercise just like us, you and your window? I would like to see that. Before I have to give you my assignment.

I am sure you would, if you want to avoid coming to terms with your own way of experience. I have to think about whether you can see it, in actual fact, or not. I will do my study. I have been thinking about doing something like my example. You will have to wait. But I think there is more to any procrastination about this next assignment. You may have the block inside you.

I don't see it as a block so much as lack of knowledge or skill, or knowing what you want.

It is not about what I want.

Oh.

Trust yourself. Take the assignment as given. And do the best you can without writing a book. It is due Thursday, and I hope we can summarize a few from the class and discuss them a bit.

I will do my best. But . . .

But?

This is unfamiliar territory for me. It is not, can I say, my normal way of doing things.

Ah, you have articulated the rationale for this course and getting an education and a myriad of other things. Except an education is sometimes not so much about learning about doing as about thinking and being.

That is what I thought. This is about life, isn't it?

A said nothing and just looked at her.

But my feelings tell me to go ahead carefully. My head doesn't tell me that. I guess I need to engage my head a bit more on this one.

Whatever works. I suspect reflection, as you put your problem or wonder, is at the heart of it. And that could be something not about the course and what we are talking about and more about you. Do you want to learn more about you?

Sure.

Give the assignment a try and we can discuss it in class.

That would be fine, except for . . .

For anything deeply personal that you might find in your navel contemplations?

Yes. Navel contemplations. I will be watching my navel? I guess I see that. Maybe I don't want to share some of that

Well, contemplating one's navel is an oversimplification. We can talk more about that later. And of course you can share what you feel comfortable with, and leave out the rest.

D left the office. It was not until she was out in the commons herself that she discovered her teacher had not really answered her question. Just put it back on her. And he hadn't even mentioned reflexivity.

6

B Who is D talking to?

C Oh, that's our teacher. The one for the class I'm taking.

What's his name?

Professor A

Nice looking man.

Can you see him from here?

D and the Professor paused under a walkway lamp. In the tent of light that clearly showed these actors, they were conversing, but it appeared that D was worried or anxious. She gestured with her arms, messenger bag thrown back over her shoulder. They were unaware of any audience.

D seems pretty intense. What are they talking about?

I don't know. Something about Professor A's work, I think. I don't understand it. D is pretty interested in it.

Pretty interested in his work or him?

His work, I'm pretty sure. A is too old for D, but you never know. Anyway, let's go. I'm tired.

Okay. But it looks like she's doing the talking. He is mostly listening.

Is this interesting for you?

Oh, no. Women and men, you know. I haven't got much to do these days. The market is in the middle of one of its even, steady-as-she-goes cycles. Clients are quiet. No new business. I'm just sort of distracted, that's all.

7

Where have you been, C said as if singing it, you hitting an elongated high note.

B Walking. In the park.

Which park?

B was collecting himself still. He answered in a desultory way, The one that goes up to Sisyphus. I sort of got caught in the dark. Lucky I found the car. Stumbled my way back to the lot. Sorry I am late.

Are you hungry?

Yes, a little. What have we got?

Didn't you read my note? Meat loaf. It's still warm.

B didn't respond. He seemed caught in some kind of whirlpool of thought, some reverie.

B?

Yes. Oh.

Is something wrong?

Oh, no. No. Where's that meat loaf.

In the oven, hiding there for you to find it. I will cut you a piece. Sandwich or on a plate with some ketchup?

Oh, sandwich please. Ketchup if it is warm. Otherwise mayo.

Coming right up. There is some leftover wine, if you like.

I like. I could use a little something to elegantify the main course.

Elegantify? Well, we are becoming chipper. And at this time of night. Or is this something about my pedestrian cuisine. Two can play the same game, you know.

Yep. Chipper. That's what it is. I saw A on my way home. I think it was A. Does he live on the west side? He was walking in that direction.

I don't know. You went by school? Did you forget I had my car?

No. Just on my way home. He was walking on Third Street, a block or two from The Huddle. Does he have a thing for D?

I don't think so. Could be. You know, dirty old men and all of that. D is, well, attractive, wouldn't you say?

I would. Definitely.

She's interested in him, though. They have met two or three times outside of class in just the past week alone. I think she finds him, um, interesting.

Interesting. In what way?

Don't know. Wasn't there. Here's the beef, kiddo. Ketchup, not mayo.

Thanks.

Why do you ask?

Ask what?

About D.

I didn't ask about D.

Yes, you did.

I was just interested in A, that's all. Seems like an interesting guy.

He is.

Does he ever walk up by Sisyphus.

I have no idea. I don't know him except for class. D might know. Meaningful pause. You could ask her.

B ignored this last remark. He was digging in to his late evening repast. And that is how he thought of it, as a repast. He was now in some kind of zone that had to do with mindfully delighting in C's meat loaf, the best. Still warm and with a fresh blob of ketchup on top.

C broke the silence. You could take a class, you know. We could do it together. It would be fun. A is interesting and has a lot of things to talk about. There are other professors over there, and it's so easy to take a course or sit in on one. As residents of ???, we have special dispensation or something where the cost of attendance is free, or almost. You have to buy the books and stuff if you really want to learn something. And doing the assignments is optional. But I think doing them, I learn more. Feel more a part of the group. And we can meet interesting people there. They're not all students.

There's an idea. Did you and D plan on taking the class together or did it just work out that way?

We planned it, but she is taking the course for credit. So our interests, or should I say commitment, is different.

Oh.

He took another bite and chased it with a swig of wine, cold from the fridge.

Well, I'm tired. I'm going to get ready for bed.

Be there pretty quick. Don't fall asleep.

8

B Rise and shine. You have a doctor's appointment today. Before your luncheon with the auxiliary. I've made coffee for you.

Oh. Thanks, dear. Where are you off to? Don't you have to work?

Market's closed today. Nothing pressing. I thought I'd get out for a walk early. I'll be back by lunchtime and maybe blow off the rest of the day. I'm feeling expansive.

This is too . . . I just woke up. Give me a few moments.

Sure. Spring is in the air and I'm feeling fresh, fresh as an adolescent with ants in my pants. Gotta move.

Oh, God. What do I have here?

B was out the door a few minutes later in his shorts, a T-shirt and running shoes. C heard the car pull out of the driveway.

Now, what has gotten into him?

She sat down and took a sip of coffee. The phone rang.

C?

Yes, D?

Yeah. Can you believe that class last night. I was so embarrassed. I don't want to be on stage, the one whose paper gets discussed. The discussion got a little personal, don't you think? Have you finished yours yet?

Yes, I am ready to turn it in. I hope he has time to read it. It would be nice to get some feedback. I'm sure mine is not as interesting as yours, but I worked hard on it. Say, aren't you at work?

Well, actually I was calling my sister, but somehow dialed your number. Sorry. But now that I have you, do you want me to read your paper before you turn it in?

No, I think it will do for now. Maybe when I can turn it in on time next time. And I could read yours.

Sounds good. Got to get back to work. Boss's coming.

C hung up and sat down again at the breakfast table. Things were strange, not ordinary, not as usual, different.

9

After exchanging pleasantries and leaving unacknowledged their past association, they were homecoming king and queen ages ago at Fairmont Senior High School, C asked him straight out.

What would it cost to have someone followed?

10

C You're here. Whose car is that in the garage?

B What? Guess.

Guess? It's new. No clue.

B said nothing.

You didn't.

I did.

But where is my car?

In the garage.

No.

Where is your car, then?

I gave it to a homeless person.

This stopped her again in her tracks.

What?

No, mine is being serviced. Didn't I tell you?

Where two are gathered

[This post will be revised as the novel progresses. BTW, Maria is a Cozumel friend.]

Dear Maria,

Well, you are the first among friends and acquaintances in a long time who has hit upon the nexus and sensed, for some reason, what I might be interested in and shared it. A special moment for me. Thanks.

That nexus is where I spend my writing and personal time, which is basically all of it--24 by 365, and then some.

You have hit upon the theoretical foundations of what I have come to call noematics, briefly characterized as "noema externa--understandings--partial, fleeting . . . something like sculpting jell-o", or making phenomena, always experienced and understood internally, external (noematics.blogspot.com). Thank you for the article, A True Story, or, The Truth about Story. [http://www.class.uidaho.edu/narrative/theory/true_story.htm]

In short, I use the insights and approach that the author, Brian Clark, does, but my application these days is that middle ground between story and theory, between the etymology of words and their present-day yet intentional use to convey rich(er) meanings. Have a look at the site above to get some crude examples.

Because I have just broadened my interests into giving a novel a try, something I have never approached before, I can relate quite well to this article. In writing about my own venture into fiction, I am discovering more fully the difference between purposeful (premeditated) pieces such as poems and essays and writings where imagined characters take over by virtue of the ground they walk and the frictions they inevitably encounter there and with others. It is an exciting time for me. And I don't know if I am one of the characters in my novel or not. And more precisely, is it my novel?

As to Clark's essay. It is what I would call meta-hermeneutics. By that I mean his writing is first of all a story about re-membering from the original contexts and meanings of words, historically-oriented hermeneutics. Then it is about stories as a subject and the language we use to talk about them. He uses the etymology and roots of words to deconstruct and thus somehow to make sense of what and how we talk about these things called stories.

Some of what he says I would have to check--I need to see references to do this. But I am sure he is mostly on the mark from what I know and have read in this field. Idaho seems to be more and more interesting intellectually, as it always has been if you have been interested in the anarchists and crazies who have gravitated towards that and neighboring states.

Not finally (you see, even this--my--story is partial), the bit about language teaching and speaking in groups . . . here is the opening, at the end of his essay, to more and other important topics. In this instance, "where two or more are gathered, there I am." Heidegger and Christ and eastern traditions share the same ground. The subject of spirit is next in line for Clark, or his students or readers. He has overtly opened this door by talking about Aum and its origins and relations to his topics.

By the way, the book you wanted to borrow from Arnon addresses this spectrum, from the physical ground to ground of being--spirit. I recommend it highly, and the book Arnon has is a good first-time encounter with and take on these things.

Now, do I go off and try to pick up where Clark left off, and relate spirit to language teaching? or have you already made this connection?

Thanks again,
kevin

PS I did my dissertation on Jung's synchronicity, more specifically meaningful coincidences. Is it a meaningful coincidence that you have given me a copy of this article just at the same time that the next development of the lead female character in my novel, D, has decided to continue her studies in "talk and how talk organizes and creates our world" by studying language and linguistics in graduate school? This after taking a course from Professor A, who I will kill off in the last chapters, before he completes his newly-begun narrative/descriptive project--because coincidentally he is at an age or stage where he just wants to observe and try to discover and understand but not be involved with anyone, not even his students. He is tired of the gatherings per se but not of human development and the grounds of our being.

This last question is for me, of course, but although it appears coincidental, we can see that you have caused a bit of friction . . . life is so interesting if we just look around a bit and wonder.