I’m sitting here, looking at this. And at that. And it’s nothing that I haven’t seen before. I’m sure you’ve seen it too, one of those days where you just look around at things and sit there.

Don’t deny it, you’ve had those days.

There’s no reason to go anywhere, really. There’s no where to go for any reason. And so you don’t. You don’t do anything. You don’t go anywhere. You sit down at the computer and there’s no reason to go anywhere through that box either. And yet you go there.

All day.

You think of what the rest of the world is doing, and you let that happen around you. There’s so much this and that, and yet you do this… and that… meaning you go there in the next room and look around… and then you go into the next room, and look at it, and move…

Mr. Coup said that we, as humans, are not meant for idle time and I’m starting to believe that.

Forty years ago, way before I composed this post that Wordpress decided to not remember and so now I’m writing it again, I was jumping off a jungle gym into the hot west Texas sand. This may or may not have been the day that, while jumping, I lodged my front tooth into the gum of my mandible to be discovered three years later as my adult tooth moved into position. Regardless, it was on this day (or possibly a couple of days later, as 40 years ago was on a Sunday) that time stood still and we were instructed to crane our heads towards the warm yellow sun and stare at it.

Like Dag I would repeat this exercise throughout my early childhood until my eyes would bleed with tears. I thought it was something I was supposed to do regularly but only on those summer days when the temperature and cloud conditions were right. I would step off my red tricycle, stop the game I was playing and stare until my eyes were wet.

It was only many years later that I understood what I was supposed to be looking at on that hot El Paso day at Kiddie Korner: it wasn’t the sun, it was the moon. And possibily the moon was visible on that day or maybe it was only something we couldn’t see but were still supposed to believe.

I won’t get into a huge diatribe about whether or not we landed on the moon that day, but I think we’re all going to be in for a big surprise in 2030 when the Chinese send their moon probe out and there’s no indication of an American flag or a Banana Splits-style moon rover waiting for them to drive around.

—

Joe Braun’s photography can be enjoyed here. Please support freelance photographers.

Douglas Coupland, 1993:

“My friend Graham Law took the footage of me with a Super-8 camera. All told, it took maybe 30 minutes. When it was developed, there was a bunch of footage still on the reel that he’d taken in Toronto years before. One of the most beautiful images was that of the nuns walking around on the square boardwalk. His studio used to look out over this walk. It was a rest home for nuns with Alzheimers, and its sort of sad because they’d spent their life devoted to God and then in the end they couldn’t remember it. Or could they? It’s a fascinating question.”

I thought about how odd it is for billions of people to be alive and yet not one of them is really quite sure of what makes people people. The only activities I could think of that humans do that have no animal equivalent were smoking and writing and body-building. That’s not much, considering how special we seem to think we are.

Taking advice from friends and talk show hosts, last week I decided (after 14 years of residency) to obtain a DC Library card. The main reason for doing this was to have a new book to take to the beach with me. A supplemental reason was because it was free. They’ve got DVDs there too and I’m cranking down my Netflix to the minimum (cash-saving move) and I can pick up supplemental discs from the library.

I decided to checkout Douglas Coupland’s “The Gum Thief” which has been out for a year or so but I never got around to purchasing and, of course, there’s no way I can pay for a book now.

I took it to the beach but because of having too much fun with the dozen friends there, I didn’t even crack the cover. I did start reading it in the car on the way back though.

———

The above was written almost a month ago, May 29. I barreled halfway through the book but then had to slow down. I finished it a couple of weeks ago but held onto it in case I needed to reference it this post. In true fashion, it sat there collecting dust like the characters in the book-within-a-book Glove Pond, written by Roger, the main storyteller in TGF.

As it sat there and I pushed back it’s due date I started to think more and more about Roger. Roger is in his early/mid-forties (I think he’s 43—this is why I wanted to keep the book awhile longer for reference). His life is in freefall: his wife has left him, a son has been killed in a car accident and he’s lost his job. He’s forced to take a mind-numbing job as a stockboy at Staples, but you get the sense he’s okay with this since he can drink on the job.

Minus the failed relationship and the deceased son, I can relate to Roger’s situation. Forced to take a McJob and half-sleep out of his car (at least he has one) he retreats into the book he’s writing, picking up character traits for his fictional characters from his old-enough-to-be-my-offspring coworkers and what few adults remain in his life.

I have not uttered a word in 43 hours.

Last week I passed the six-month mark of being unemployed. The majority of jobs I can find that I’m qualified for are positions or employers I don’t want to hold/work for. I’ve received notice that my food stamp benefits are to be cut at the end of this month, unless I can convince them otherwise when I have a meeting with my case worker next week. I’m not sure how long my unemployment benefits will continue; it’s supposed to be a year now but I haven’t heard any word and I’m hoping that’s a good thing.

But it may be time for this to come to an end, and not a happy ending. I may be Roger, having to take whatever is available at any level, working at Staples or Best Buy or some other immediately-hating and soul-sucking McJob. Do you want fries with that?