Ask and Ye Shall Receive

"Excuse me sir?" A tall well dressed man said.

"Yes" replied another man, this one much more bored than the first.

"I'd like to hold a protest!" The tall man said. At this he also slammed his briefcase down on the desk. 

"Oh, sorry." The tall man said, and lifted his briefcase, and checked the desk for scratches or dents. Not seeing any he put the briefcase back down, more carefully this time.

The bored man raised his head from the nothing he was previously paying attention to, and addressed this new nothing with the same amount of energy and fervor he did anything.

"Yes. A protest then?" the dreary man asked. 

"Ah!" The tall man said. He opened his briefcase, produced a number of sheets of paper and began to read. "The recent actions of this administration have severely impacted the every-man'a ability to—"

"I'm going to stop you there." Said the bored man. He was beginning to shed his boredom, because in fact stopping people right there was one of his favorite things to do. 

"Let me stop you right there." He repeated. It's a magical phrase. Let me stop you. People always do. They'd have to be crazy, or deranged to not allow such a polite interruption.

"I hate to be the one to bring this up." Said the now slightly amused man. Also, point in fact, he absolutely did not hate bringing this up. He loved being the one, and bringing things up.

"But the city is quite busy this week, what with the upcoming festivities, and I was wondering when you wanted to protest?" The increasingly amused man said.

The tall man lowered his papers and rested them atop his briefcase. "Oh. Well, our group was thinking Wednesday the 24th. At 8:00pm. Pete, he's one of our members, he said you need a permit for this sort of thing." The tall man spoke highly of Pete.

"Ah, yes. Right Peter was. Why, if we allowed protests without permits, what would the ambulances do? What if there was a real emergency? And people blocked is path for 'politics'? So yes, a permit is required. Right Pete was." The actively pleased man was getting up out of his chair. His seat rolled back as he stood and began striding towards a filing cabinet. "Let me see if we have any for Wednesday at 6:00pm." He said. 

"Oh, no it's actually —"

"Again, let me stop you right there." The pleased man said. He then paused while pretending to rummage through papers in the filing cabinet. In fact it was empty. It was supposed to be picked up for disposal. But, you can pretend to rummage without any filing cabinet, so it worked just as well.

The tall man indeed let himself be stopped again.

After some time the getting-giddier-by-the-minute man followed up. "No, I'm afraid our only permit available this week is for 9:00am Tuesday morning. South Ave around 42nd street. Approximately half an hour." He closed the filing cabinet and skipped back towards his desk.

He did not realize he was skipping. Or that he began to smile.

He sat in his chair and began typing on a computer. Or, well he typed on a keyboard, not the computer itself. That would have looked very silly. He would have seemed entirely incompetent, clicking or tapping away on a computer itself. But, it was a keyboard, so it was fine.

The tall man's shoulders slumped. "I don't think. But we work Tuesday. I can't get off work. And that just won't do!" The tall man was beginning to get angry. Or, beginning to think he aught to get angry. He did not let it show outwardly. That's how they win, when you're angry. He'd never been kicked out of a building, or arrested, and he surely didn't want to start now.

The giddy man leaned back in his chair and looked at the tall man for the first time. The tall man had proud green eyes, broad shoulders, and may have been intimidating had the giddy man noticed any of his features before now.

The giddy contented man began, "Now listen, we're not without a heart. It's clear that you're really quite displeased with —"

"Quite!" The tall man interrupted. 

"Yes, quite displeased, don't interrupt me." The beaming man said.

"Yes, sorry, continue." The tall man allowed.

"Quite displeased with this administration, and we want your voice to be heard. Again though, we have everyone's safety to consider. Think of the ambulances. What if they had to reroute, and someone got hurt? Or police couldn't get to a crime scene very quickly? Why that's what we have roads for, for the police and for the ambulances!" The happy go lucky man was on a roll.

He continued, "So, what I can do for you, is this. Next Sunday at approximately 9:00am I can give you and your group 45 minutes on 1st Ave by the library. And, I know that it's not by the courthouse, but tell me, have you any megaphones? Or crossing guards?" The ecstatic man was barely holding back jumping in the air and clicking his heels.

"Megaphones? Why. I don't think so. Should I?" The tall man asked.

"Ah, yes very much so! Again, because you've so impressed me with your civil passionate plea, I can do this. Let me throw in a few megaphones and crossing guards, and that way you can have a catchy chant for social media. That will catch on, they always do. Can't go viral without a chant I always say. Then the crossing guards —"

"Excuse me, but what would I chant —" the tall mans interrupted.

"Again!" The tall mans interruption was interrupted. "Now I really must stop you right there. Here I was going out on a limb for you with city megaphones. That's city property. We don't just go giving that out to any hooligans! And you interrupt me again about a chant? Do I look like a lyricist?" The gleeful happy upbeat joyous man clapped his hands in a single loud burst.

"Well, if this is how you'll act you'll get no crossing guards and only one megaphone!" He bounced while he spoke, louder and more powerful.

The tall man looked chastised, he kept opening his mouth to apologize, but the incredibly peppy man wasn't giving him any opening.

"So. With that I grant you this permit for Sunday at 9:00am, with one megaphone. Be here 15 minutes early to receive the megaphone. Thank you for your concerns and taking action for the betterment of our city." He handed the tall man a small slip of paper. If the tall man had time to read it, well. He didn't. So it doesn't matter. He assumed it was a permit.

"Now, you'll excuse me. I have a lunch meeting. Close the door on your way out." The happy nearly spastic man could have walked out of the office without perturbing the tall man, but loved the most when people excused him for things that were generally inexcusable. He giddily thought about how amazingly easy it was to get someone to excuse him for being quite rude, simply because he said they should. 

He was skipping out of the office, bumped into the tall man and knocked his briefcase over. "Again, you really must excuse me, it's just that I'm very late, I spent so much time helping you that I didn't even notice." The happy man skipped out of the office.

"Oh. No, thank you." The tall man said to an empty office. 

The tall man stood up a little straighter. He felt like he had accomplished something today, and thought how to tell the group about the megaphone. Would this impress Pete? The group would be so happy, and wonder how he tricked the city into giving out a megaphone for the protest. He closed the door on his way out.

I Also Don't Know the Title

What don't I understand?  I could write a book.

People always say that.  That they could write a book about the things they don't know.  That they could write a book about what they don't understand.  That they could write a book.

Me?  I can't write anything about what I don't understand.  I don't know it, I don't know where to start.  For instance, here are some things I can't write about:

-Life Goals

Depends on the day.  A general theme is there, but, it's nothing definite.

Now, maybe this here is an opening chapter.  In the book of shit I don't know.  And tomorrow, I'll find out something else I don't know.  Singletons in programming?  I know they exist.  That's chapter two.

-Chapter Three

Is about dragons, and what kind of tooth paste they use.  I don't have a clue.  But judging based on the term 'dragon breath', I'm guessing they don't floss.

-Chapter Four

Will go on to talk in depth about how I'm not really sure what chapter four is about.  It was originally going to be about complex origami and math, but then I read a little about that, and thought it was too much to not know.  So I tried to write it about the manufacture of plastic forks and spoons, but Google screwed that all up.  I could then only move on to how I don't know what polypropylene or polystyrene actually are.  Then I started looking that up, and then it became apparent that I'd just never know what this chapter was about.

How does it end?  It doesn't.  This book will never end, it can't be written.  Or, maybe, I'm not sure.  Maybe it can always be written.

Narrator Battle

She walked to the store.
她走路到商店了。

She wanted a very red apple.
她要了一个很红色的苹果。

She took the apple to the register.
她...

《hold on a second buddy.  I don't know the word for register, and you know that.  What are you doing here?》  (Sorry, should she steal the apple then?) 《if you can say that.》(Fine.)

She stole the apple.
她把苹果偷走了。

(Wait a second.  I don't really know what you're saying, but '苹果' is the only thing that's the same.  I'm pretty sure I said, 'She stole the apple.'  Not 'nonsense apple nonsense nonsense.' 《It's the same.  Trust me.  Like, just continue the story.》(Fine.)

She ate the apple.
她吃了。她觉得苹果很好吃了。

(That was definitely two sentences.  Are you sure you're translating this right?) 《Yeah, she ate the apple, can we move on?》(Fine.)

She returned to the store.
她没再去到了商店。

She wanted a very blue apple.
他一定不想了一个很蓝色的苹果。

(Alright, screw you, I just got a translator, SHE definitely did want a blue apple.) 《Why?  That's not a thing. And aren't people people?  So what if it's a boy or a girl who doesn't want the abomination of an apple.》She wanted the apple!  That's what I said, that's what you say.  That's how this works.) 《How much does your translator cost?》 (...) ($50 an hour) 《I'll do it for half that much.》(Fine.)《Salary*》(Salary for you, fine for me.)

She ate the apple like a bear.
苹果跟灰熊一样吃了。

(Okay.  What does that say then?) 《She eats the apple the same way she eats a bear.》(Why... why does it say that?) 《That's what you said.》(No it isn't.) 《Yes it is.》

(...)
(...)

(You're fired.) 《I quit.》 (Fine.) 《Attractive*》

Sometimes Breaking Things

"Just leave me alone."  Kelly said.

She really wanted to be left alone.  She thought that was clear, and yet.  Keith slid down onto the bed she was laying on.  He leaned over towards her, and put his hand on her thigh.

With all of her energy she didn't jerk away from him right then.  "I'm pretty sure I just said leave me alone." she repeated.  She picked up a book on the nightstand and pretended to start reading it.  Hoping, obviously, that he would see she was busy and move on.

"Hey." he began.  He looked in her direction, and looked a little hurt that she didn't look back.

She felt bad for the look on his face, which made her nearly explode.  "Get out of this room, immediately."  She wasn't yelling.  She was barely speaking between lips that weren't parted.  Her eyes were focusing on something distant.

Keith got up and walked out of the room.  She could hear him in the kitchen, clinking dishes, making something.  Opening the refrigerator.

Kelly held onto the book, squeezing with all her might.  She wanted to throw it, but throwing the book wouldn't make Keith less of an idiot.  So she squeezed it.  Full of emotion that had no where to go, and no use.

He had, previously, and from now on always, ruined her day when he said,  "I could love anyone, but I choose you, because you're not the best, but you're my favorite."

'I know' she thought.  'I know I'm not the best, what kind of idiot thinks they're really the best?  Obviously I'm not the best.  But I don't need to be reminded by the people who love me.  Oh look at me, a broken little amusement.  Not good for anything, but his favorite, and here I am, fucking sobbing in a bed.'  She was rocking between pulling the sheets over her and stretching out flexing every muscle in her body.

Then there was Keith in the kitchen.  Making a sandwich for Kelly.

He didn't know why he talked.  His words, so noble in his mind, got garbled on their way out.  He wanted to convey a deep love, but one that he chose to have.  He wanted Kelly to know that he really liked her better than everyone else, despite her imperfections.  He felt like she probably should have seen his better meaning, but whenever there are two meanings she drifted towards the negative one.

He walked back into the bedroom.  He looked at her, and set a pickle and ham sandwich on toasted bread with mustard.  "Weirdo" he said and smiled, then set the sandwich down and left.

She then lost her control, and broke the plate against the wall, her favorite and sandwich and ceramic pieces falling to the ground. she knew he'd hear it, because he wasn't deaf.  That she knew he'd be hurt at her refusal of the olive branch, and the catharsis from breaking a plate made her feel a little better.  She got up and went to the shower.

Learning Chinese

I've been studying Chinese a lot recently, and what the best study methods are, and generally how to be a good student.  Here are some of the main points summed up for you:

-A good teacher can be worth their weight in gold.  You've just got to send the ransom notes to the right people.

-Spaced Repetition Software (SARS) can be a great tool for learning vocabulary.  The idea behind it is that there is an ideal time sort of exponentially in the future to review something you've recently learned.  So, you review it after a day, then two days, then a week, then two weeks, and so on until it's permanently ingrained in your long term memory.  I've also learned it's a terrible way to schedule meals.

-If you don't get enough rest and exercise you won't be a good language learner.  That's what my personal trainer down at Spend Ca$h told me.  They told me that weight lifting is absolutely, scientifically, the best way to boost memory power.  Lifting weights is like lifting weights for your brain.

-One word: task inertia.  It's like this, starting a task is the hardest part, after that point though, you'll carry on working until someone in the house turns on the television.  At which point you'll watch Bob's Burgers, then Will and Grace, then Wallace and Grommit, then SpongeBob Squarepants, then the new Powerpuff Girls, then The Tick, then Beastwars, then Scrubs, then How I Met Your Mother, and before you know it you'll have watched a lot of television.

-Children can learn languages better than adults.  Children can also poop their pants and look smug about it way better than adults.

That's what I've learned thus far, and I'll keep you updated as to the new information I'm given when I'm given it.  It's like, wooo information is here, and you're getting it 'cuz I'm givin it.

Going Out

Peter had been trying, unsuccessfully, to get his girlfriend to go out to the bar with him.  He felt, when in a committed relationship, or at the very least a relationship where he'd feel bad about telling his girlfriend about sleeping with her sister, that it was hard to keep the spontineity alive.  And the potted plants alive.  And the hamster.

"If we go out we're going to have spend money." Sandra said. Sitting on a couch, buffing her nails and seeming quite relaxed.

"Or mug people" Peter offered.  He was putting on his shoes.

Sandra rolled her eyes.  "Mugging people is hard." She said.  "And besides, getting dressed is a hassle.  Just like... something else that's a hassle."

"Come on, we haven't been out in forever." Peter said. Peter picked up his keys off their hook by the door.  He was now just standing by the door, occasionally glancing up from his phone and the time.

"Well, what if guys like, try to pick me up?  Or buy me drinks?  You don't like it when they buy me drinks." Sandra said.

It was true Peter thought.  Boys at bars would buy her drinks, hoping for her phone number, or sex, or ballet lessons.  She really had to stop wearing leotards out to the bar.

"Oh, what if I wear my leotard?  I love that.  I'll go get ready." Sandra said.  She nearly skipped towards the bedroom.

"Actually honey." Peter said.  He took off his shoes, and sat down on the couch.  He began buffing his nails and looking quite comfortable.  "Maybe we should stay in tonight.  Who wants to deal with those creepy guys staring at you with their mouth agape."

"Honey, we've talked about that.  You have a medical condition, it's okay that your mouth hangs open." Sandra said from the bedroom.  She was applying lipstick to her upper lip.  She pressed her lips together.  "Are you driving?"

"Oh.  Uh my car's in the shop." Peter said.  He took off his shoes, and pulled a blanket off the back of the couch.  He turned on Netflix and selected 'Meet Joe Black.'  "Besides, I forgot I have an early meeting.  If I drink tonight it could affect my performance."

"There's always viagra." Sandra said coming out of the bedroom.

"I'm just going to stay in tonight." Peter said.  Brad Pitt was smiling on the television, drinking coffee and being charming.  "Besides, you can never be sure about what kind of girl you pick up at your apartment, whether she has all her teeth."

Sandra showed her teeth in what could have been a smile, if it weren't a growl.

"Or whether or not she finished high school." Peter said.

Sandra sat down next to Peter on the couch.  "Yeah, but at least you don't have to worry about them putting out."  She lifted up the blanket and settled in next to him.

Onward the night went, with bouts of Anthony Hopkins and extravagant parties.

Boulder and Mountain

Up at the top of a mountain there was a large boulder.  For as long as Boulder could remember, it had been part of Mountain's life.  Big, strong, it held up a lot of weight, sometimes animals, sometimes trees.  Recently, Mountain and Boulder were drifting apart.  Slowly at first, but now more and more, it was obvious they wouldn't be together forever. Anyone who looked up at the mountainside would see.

Boulder and Mountain were in the arduous process of separating their things subtly for the imminent moving out.  Mountain was slowly sneaking the boulder's CDs into its own collection.  Always feigning surprise, "Oh you found your Tragic Kingdom CD in my Macbook Pro, at work at?  I must have borrowed it last week, I'm sure I told you.  Did you forget?" and so on.

Then one day, without fanfare, it was time.

A boulder crashing down the side of a mountain is a sight to see.  It can cause millions of dollars worth of damage, and untold mental anguish knowing that if it had came down seconds later, or just two feet to the left, you could've become the favorite child.  But, as it stands, your sister was unscathed.

"A small detour s'all.  Then we'd still have grandpa, and you'd be gone, like you want." Sarah said to Beatrice.

"It's not my fault he was up on the roof!  I do want to leave this stupid house, and everyone in it."  Beatrice started to pout.  "Mommy!"

No one came.  The two sisters were alone in the house.

Sarah, gazing at the wreckage, the trajectory of the large rock, through their lives and hallway obvious as it was, saw a somehow unscathed pamphlet sitting on a mostly destroyed table.

"Rubber soled shoes provide the best traction on a roof." It helpfully stated.  However, it unhelpfully left out that they provided minimal protection against oncoming boulders, and if you happened to be on a roof with your back turned and music playing in your headphones, your chance of survival is about as good as a sweet and helpful uncredited astronaut in a science fictional show.

Even though it was a small town, most people didn't hear or know about the incident.  They had their own lives, and their own worries.  They had no direct relation to the people who lived on the hill.  So they went on about their lives.  Because people are unobservant.  Because most creatures don't realize what lines are being crossed, and what irrevocable consequences are thundering towards them.

 Most people don't realize they're living consequences that have already come.  They're constantly surprised, by what should be, the obvious next event in the narrative that is their life.