October 29, 2010
Confessions of a Tischaholic -5- auster vs. calle
Not all books can haunt--and not all audiences possess the mystical potential to be haunted, to reckon with ghosts.
Leviathan haunts, passionately; and I'm excessively susceptible to becoming the haunted.
It was love at first sight (site? cite?).
Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a little girl named Sophie. As all little girls, Sophie had numerous wonderful talents, such as chasing rainbows and strangers; but she excelled best at growing up. In fact, she was so exemplary at this one act, that people gave her gaily wrapped gifts and presents every year as proof; and to this very day the crazy colorful packages are the first glinting articles reflected in the mirrors of the eyes of anyone who visits her warm and welcoming home.* Legend has it that sometimes the shimmering pools of light have made people leave her apartment completely blind. You see, having grown up to the point of perfection, Sophie became an object of envy –by both grown-up little girls and boys alike.
But, as luck would have it, one grown-up little boy –who lived not too far away– stood apart from this dreary crowd of spiteful on-lookers. It’s still a baffling mystery to many, how Paul came to possess such desirable and alluring magical powers. “Could it be that he was the chosen one?” people would ask silently. Some speculate that his secret resided in the shards of broken glass he carried around in his pockets; they say he’d been seen around town, pulling them out of his pockets and bestowing them upon passersby who seemed to have forgotten the beauty they reflected when they smiled and talked to strangers. But my dear, what’s important isn’t the number of raging two-headed monsters and terrifying fire-breathing chimeras he had to fight in order to find the light. What matters is that once he discovered it, he tried to ignite sparks within those that crossed his path –even himself. In the course of illumination, Paul found himself to be a Peter –and not just any Peter, but the Peter who had glimpsed the inner Maria in grown-up little Sophie. And one day, as Sophie stood –far far away– in her phone booth covered in the mirrors she kept surreptitiously, she caught two things: a flash of Maria, and fire. As she walked out of the cubicle, rising fresh from her ashes, she knew, for certain, that she had once again found true love. And they –Paul and Peter– lived happily ever after.
* "Don't tell me the moon is shining/show me the glint of light on broken glass." - Anton Chekhov
excerpt written apropos my unofficial, unannounced, and unapproved collaboration with my own good friend...
Labels: narcissism, school, yada yada
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