« misinformation | Main | john grisham - porn king »
low speed collisions
September 05, 2005
the impact was odd. the sound of sheet metal sliding laterally and destructively against a solid object, say, a 4" tubular thick-gauge steel pipe rooted into the asphalt, is an oddly calm one. the metallic essence of the experience, particularly the first inward pop, is dulled, the metal's desire to resonate transferred and dampened into the parking lot's foundations.
i didn't react. i heard my roommate gasp, out of the corner of my eye saw her look over at me for what she believed would be the inevitable reaction.
it didn't come. i shifted into reverse and rolled back, quietly, as if the event called for no comment at all, as if i were simply pulling out of a space i had decided was too small.
i had spent the day... i had spent the day... the day was spent.
i got up at 6:47am. i was supposed to meet janay and tiffany to run at town lake at 7:00. i was so tired i ached, but it had been weeks since we had run together, and i needed it. we could have been running, or biking, or shelling pecans, or playing russian roulette for all it mattered - i needed to see them again and be back in that particular routine again, one of the least stressful, healthiest routines in my life right now.
we ran six miles, ate, then the day deccelerated. i went home, showered, turned on cnn, and watched the coverage of the hurricane's aftermath.
i called the austin red cross, hoping to volunteer, knowing that i was going to need the distraction, for there to be some point for the next few days. they said they had enough volunteers for the time being. ditto for the food bank.
i watched all day. at times i cried, but at times, i was damaged beyond tears not by the death and loss, but by what i saw of humanity.
i saw politicians and journalists exploiting the event for their benefit, grandstanding, pointing fingers, while people were dying.
i saw survivors, poor people, black people, some doing what they needed to and should do to survive, or even do at least a little better than survive. but i saw some doing worse. i heard the outcry against the looting and the shooting, some reasoned and balanced, but many following the chain of causation from "criminal activity" just to "black," and stopping there.
i heard the apologists, some asking for reason, and understanding, and fairness in judgment, but many drawing the chain of causation from "criminal activity" all the way to "oppression," with no nod to the area of personal responsibility, of right and wrong, that lies in between.
i've always been torn, disheartened, and angered by these failures of ours, by the death of intelligent, genuine, meaningful discourse about our most important issues. it's only gotten worse as our divisions have become more bitter and vast. to conservatives, the nuances don't matter, and i'm just another liberal. to many of my friends, the overwhelming majority of whom are liberal, nuances in my beliefs and perspectives make me a sell-out, a Bush apologist.
so, on saturday, i was lost. unable to go pull someone out of the water, or even to lift some boxes, to make me feel alive, like there was a point to me, even just for a little while. i couldn't get what i was feeling into words. and i didn't have, or was finally successfully ignoring, so many of the other obligations that have for so long kept me distracted by being overwhelmed. i couldn't even imagine anyone or anything that would give me any comfort.
i just watched, and there was nothing more to do.
and yes, on top of all of that, the bottles were empty, too - the little amber plastic bottles. when they're somewhat full, i'm unquestioning. i take them. when they run low, i begin to question. i had an appointment friday for a required appointment, but i questioned the need, and i thought about the $135 it would cost for the appointment and the refills. i canceled the appointment.
i pulled the bottles out of my bag and set them on my nightstand, and they were suddenly so pointless, seemingly meaningless, whether empty or full. when i open one and put it to my ear like a seashell, i don't hear the ocean, only whispers.
so, i was already numb when my roommate came home. i think i was already creeping her out, saying very little, not making eye contact. but she started eating one of those pre-packaged conglomerations of cold cuts, processed, pasteurized cheese, and crackers. i offered to buy her a real dinner at the burrito place down the hill.
i drove because she had been at work all day and i figured she wouldn't want to walk.
the parking space looked small. i saw the low rock wall surrounding the tree next to the space, but forgot about the metal barricade bar in front of it.
i turned, and some part of my brain thought i might hit the rock wall. my brain had a response, and it spoke that response silently just as my car made contact with the metal.
my roommate looked at me when it happened, kept looking at me nervously from time to time as we got our food, and all the way home. but there was just nothing to say, nothing that would, nothing that could possibly, matter.
Posted by Rob at September 5, 2005 11:12 PM