binkymcqueen

Cobblestones Humble-a memoir about 10 minutes in Center City

I think I had forgotten just how big the world is in the modern age; until graced with a life not even four months old, whose wide eyes and nervous jumps indicate his honed hyper aware state. I have desensitized myself from the bustle of noise and clank of industrialized consumerism. I divorced myself from the reality of the flesh world preferring to give up and retreat back into my skin; however, tiny children force you to be at the forefront, watching, guarding, jumping and every obstacle the world throws in our path. We went from the concrete cutting machinery and drones and walked the cobbled section on over to the library. I was the first to arrive, and notice that the lad and I had about 9 minutes to kill before gaining access to what I had hoped would be a boon of Murakami novels. First to arrive behind me was a rather rotund fellow, with thick box style glasses and a gigantic hair ring around the back of his head which intersected and weaved into what was assuredly a profound amount of back hair. He held an obviously well used canvass book bag, (which if I am not mistaken) had a faded Jazzercise logo gasping it lasts breath. He stood, however; with the most cock swagger posture I have seen up until this point in my life. You would have thought the guy had eaten Steve McQueens testicles for breakfast, or at the very least kicked Bruce lees ass; It clicked with me almost before the impact had arrived in my neuronsPeople at the library are not there to make fun of peopleWe have come seeking information through the art of printed word. He came over to peek into the stroller (As a papacito with no women around, I have noticed people are automatically suspicious of a man and a stroller) He is close, and without the child in my presence my aloof and detached demeanor would have never welcomed him that close to my personal comfort zone. I can smell his odor, and grease and before I know it he says:
They grow up so fast (imagine Louie Anderson speaking with a hard South Philly accent)
I have two nieces, and I remember both when they were no bigger then this (insert stock hands apart showing what could be anything from a penis to a pineapple, to a child) one is in college and the other is about to graduate high school For a moment he looked blankly across my shoulder and I felt his slight pang of regret for never having children of his own (whatever the reason was) ; I broke down my exterior defenses and let the humanity in myself see this man it humbled me, because here I was with my bouncing baby boy feeling sheepish because I would have (more likely then not) making up a story in my head about how this guy was an ex-clown looking for his lost monkey or some such shit. Suddenly, the world did not seem so big; it seemed to be very tiny like a bullet boring through all the ugly skins I wear around my body. My child forces a deep need inside of me to circumvent all the pent up rage and frustration of my youth and lay it down for someone else to consume; and that is my problem most daysI just do not always rid myself of these tired guilts I wear like a rosary around my neck. I succeeded in obtaining my Philly library card-which in itself is another story, and was able to snatch up two Murakami novels. I was also lucky enough to have a buck in the pocket to purchase a gem of a visual find in the for sale pile. A Hebrew comic/narrative all about the six day war; even better, would be my score of A Fans notes, which I had wanted to re-read again. I have a lovely life-a wonderful family, and everything else I had ever desired.perhaps if I continue to listen to the quakes inside my past, I will be allowed my freedom.