Tuesday, December 1, 2009
My old black sport coat has a hole in the right elbow. I discovered it yesterday. I don’t know how long it’s been there, but it’s about the size of a walnut, and the area around the hole is quite worn. I could go on using the coat, but that would only hasten its demise. And yet I need the coat, for the warmth and friendship it provides. I also don’t want to abandon it. I refuse to treat it like an old coat.
An idea: a photographic portrait of the coat not wearing me.
Another idea: a lengthy interview with the coat.
A third: record the coat’s reminiscences, beginning with its earliest memories as a child in Hungary.
Idea Four: an award-winning black-and-white documentary.
Five: hang the coat near my desk and keep it supplied with cigarettes.
6: commit suicide and be buried in the coat, but only if it’s willing.
: starve to death in the coat while insisting that I am Yuri Andreievich Zhivago.
ask the coat what it wants :
: : :
Recently Linked: My thanks to N. God Savage, a writer and philosopher in Belfast, for signing on as a follower of Recently Banned Literature.
“Devastated” added to Notebook. (Old notes archived here.)
“Boyle’s Law Goes to Hell” added to Useless Information.
In the Forum: the feathers and cockroaches of a musing, philosophical organism.