This isn’t going to be a real post. Not really. I’ve started reading “On Beauty” by Zadie Smith and was struck by a passage near the beginning. Smith is still introducing characters and I was really blown away by her depiction of one of them, Michael Kipps. It’s one of those moments where you don’t realize you approach life a certain way, or don’t see things in a specific light until an author offers it up on a golden platter and all you can do is snatch at it and scream “Yes! Yes! YES! This is what I mean, finally, I see this is how I feel, too.” Anyway, I felt like sharing the moment it really isn’t anything special, I suppose, except maybe to me. Sometimes I like to remember these things:
‘Find it OK?’ Michael cut in with extreme shortness, nodding at the station. Howard, who didn’t understand the point of this question, grinned stupidly back at him. Michael was quite a bit taller than Howard, which Howard was unused to and disliked. He was broad too; not that freshman muscle that Howard saw in his classes, the kind that begins at the top of the neck and makes young men trapezoid, no, this was more elegant than that. A birthright. He’s one of those people, thought Howard, who looks like one quality very much, and the quality in this case is ‘noble’. Howard didn’t much trust people like that, so full of one quality, like books with insistent covers.
There. Beautiful isn’t it? Sometimes I worry that I am this way. Too much of one thing… but I can’t put my finger on what it is… and then I worry that, maybe, I am nothing special at all and I have been living parasitically off of the promise instead of cultivating skills and talent of my own.
Wow. I promise, next post, I will be far more… cheery.