As he sat on a cold bench, the old man watched several adolescent girls gathered and giggling across the path. Central Park was in its fall glory. The trees had taken on hues and tones, which, when he looked down on them from his West Side apartment, put him in mind of a bowl of Trix cereal (Silly Rabbit! Trix are for kids!).
This day, late in October, was what the twit who read the weather report on Channel 11 insisted on calling Acrisp@. It was cold and bright, with a slight breeze that moved the manes and various outfits of his subjects so as to provide him brief glimpses of bare long necks and equally long legs.
As the girls talked and smoked and gossiped, the old man put his gloved hands in his pockets and pulled his coat tighter around him. He slumped a bit on the bench and, pulling his hat down on his brow, he assumed what he had come to think of as the Alechers position.@ It was his only admission of the guilt in the pleasure of his observations of the young girls who frequented the park on their way to and from school, or home or flute practice or the multitudinous, diverse and unceasing activities with which New York youth these days seemed to occupy themselves. He understood all to well that the Puritanism of the ruling class proscribed prurient thoughts by the elderly, particularly if the spark and flame of those thoughts were peri-pubescent girls.
But he would not admit to any true prurient interest in the girls. Instead, he thought of these daily trips to the park in the same manner that other people thought of trips to the zoo. If he were to be honest, of course, he would have had to admit to an erotic aspect in his observations that was not (he assumed) to be found in the zoo spectator.
He had made no attempt at interaction with the girls, had not spoken to them, or even made eye contact. He avoided contact though not from any strong sense of propriety, but by certain knowledge of two things: he understood that they would not be receptive, that the most likely reaction would be outright revulsion, but second, and more importantly, he generally desired a level of maturity in his relationships that was not attainable amongst this demographic.
He simply loved watching the girls. He had always found women the more enjoyable of the genders; found them more interesting emotionally, intellectually and interpersonally than men. In his days as a design engineer, he had favored professional associations with women and had believed that women had a better grasp on the nature of work than men. And of course he had always loved to watch them. In every area B form, movement, grace, and style B women were simply more enjoyable targets for observation than were men.
And, although it was undeniable that his present preoccupation with young girls correlated with the advancement of his age, he preferred to think of it as a refinement of his tastes. Having always been a people watcher, he had become quite sophisticated in determining the more rewarding target for observation. Over time he had discovered that generally, younger people were more flamboyant and inventive in their movement and interactions than the older members of the species and, within the subset of younger people, girls were by far the most aesthetically pleasing.
Looking across the path he watched as one of the gaggle flipped through a magazine that she rested on the back of a bench. She was a tall girl, at the age when the girls were invariably taller than their male counterparts. Slender, with only the beginning of breasts, she had an unconscious grace that was beguiling. She stood preoccupied with her reading. While thus lost to the rest of us, she lifted her left foot and hooked it behind her right leg, using the natural fit between the curve of her instep and the curve of the upper calf just below the knee to hold the pose. It was a pose that he had seen young girls take a thousand times, yet he had never seen its use either by boys or by women advanced beyond the age of 18. It was unique to this aspect of the fauna and made her, in his mind, the equivalent of some exotic bird. Watching her warmed his fading heart in a way that he was unable to articulate.
The old man had mentally catalogued a thousand such varieties of pose and movement, singularly associated with the adolescent female and as he watched every day, it was with the rapt, albeit surreptitious, attention of a devotee of the ballet; one that did not need the tiresome interpretation imposed by his demographic on that art form, as if graceful movement alone were not sufficient for applause.
Movement however, was but part of the show. Costuming was another, and again the old man noted and enjoyed fashion statements unique to this age group. Most adults took no risks, favoring instead the standard uniform for their social status or profession, or when wanting to be Arisqu@ inclining toward clich.
Both boys and girls did better than their older counterparts, but boys favored a style that told nothing of themselves. They seemed to prefer to hide amongst their peers; wearing clothing that all but shouted their anxiety in being here. Girls, by contrast, were artists who used themselves as canvas. They appeared day by day in dress which, by some trinket, bit of jewelry or fabric adornment, spoke volumes of whom they thought they were, or should be, or wanted to be. Sometimes their mistakes were painful; experiments gone awry but flaunted in spite of themselves. At other times one girl, here or there, one day or another, would take his breath away.
Girls who seemed to see their own sexuality peeking over the horizon and who greeted it with playfulness provided his most pleasurable moments. They could be startlingly erotic, as much for the old man=s certain (or hopeful) knowledge that they were mostly clueless as for sexual nature in the acts themselves. They accomplished this erotica in the most straightforward fashion: by showing and improving skin. A midriff exposed, naval pierced or a tattooed shoulder or calf had an impact from a twelve year old barely into the curse that no professional temptress could approach. The flash of panty clad buttock exposed as a result of girlish prankishness was a match for any blatant sexual act in its capacity to provoke immediate and painful arousal in him.
In the end it was skin that caught and kept him on his surreptitious erotic safari. It was the hope for a glimpse of that which he had no more, either on him or around him: supple, smooth, resilient skin. And it was here that the root of his observatorial avocation lay, for in watching these children, he put his own imminent death aside for a while....
This day, late in October, was what the twit who read the weather report on Channel 11 insisted on calling Acrisp@. It was cold and bright, with a slight breeze that moved the manes and various outfits of his subjects so as to provide him brief glimpses of bare long necks and equally long legs.
As the girls talked and smoked and gossiped, the old man put his gloved hands in his pockets and pulled his coat tighter around him. He slumped a bit on the bench and, pulling his hat down on his brow, he assumed what he had come to think of as the Alechers position.@ It was his only admission of the guilt in the pleasure of his observations of the young girls who frequented the park on their way to and from school, or home or flute practice or the multitudinous, diverse and unceasing activities with which New York youth these days seemed to occupy themselves. He understood all to well that the Puritanism of the ruling class proscribed prurient thoughts by the elderly, particularly if the spark and flame of those thoughts were peri-pubescent girls.
But he would not admit to any true prurient interest in the girls. Instead, he thought of these daily trips to the park in the same manner that other people thought of trips to the zoo. If he were to be honest, of course, he would have had to admit to an erotic aspect in his observations that was not (he assumed) to be found in the zoo spectator.
He had made no attempt at interaction with the girls, had not spoken to them, or even made eye contact. He avoided contact though not from any strong sense of propriety, but by certain knowledge of two things: he understood that they would not be receptive, that the most likely reaction would be outright revulsion, but second, and more importantly, he generally desired a level of maturity in his relationships that was not attainable amongst this demographic.
He simply loved watching the girls. He had always found women the more enjoyable of the genders; found them more interesting emotionally, intellectually and interpersonally than men. In his days as a design engineer, he had favored professional associations with women and had believed that women had a better grasp on the nature of work than men. And of course he had always loved to watch them. In every area B form, movement, grace, and style B women were simply more enjoyable targets for observation than were men.
And, although it was undeniable that his present preoccupation with young girls correlated with the advancement of his age, he preferred to think of it as a refinement of his tastes. Having always been a people watcher, he had become quite sophisticated in determining the more rewarding target for observation. Over time he had discovered that generally, younger people were more flamboyant and inventive in their movement and interactions than the older members of the species and, within the subset of younger people, girls were by far the most aesthetically pleasing.
Looking across the path he watched as one of the gaggle flipped through a magazine that she rested on the back of a bench. She was a tall girl, at the age when the girls were invariably taller than their male counterparts. Slender, with only the beginning of breasts, she had an unconscious grace that was beguiling. She stood preoccupied with her reading. While thus lost to the rest of us, she lifted her left foot and hooked it behind her right leg, using the natural fit between the curve of her instep and the curve of the upper calf just below the knee to hold the pose. It was a pose that he had seen young girls take a thousand times, yet he had never seen its use either by boys or by women advanced beyond the age of 18. It was unique to this aspect of the fauna and made her, in his mind, the equivalent of some exotic bird. Watching her warmed his fading heart in a way that he was unable to articulate.
The old man had mentally catalogued a thousand such varieties of pose and movement, singularly associated with the adolescent female and as he watched every day, it was with the rapt, albeit surreptitious, attention of a devotee of the ballet; one that did not need the tiresome interpretation imposed by his demographic on that art form, as if graceful movement alone were not sufficient for applause.
Movement however, was but part of the show. Costuming was another, and again the old man noted and enjoyed fashion statements unique to this age group. Most adults took no risks, favoring instead the standard uniform for their social status or profession, or when wanting to be Arisqu@ inclining toward clich.
Both boys and girls did better than their older counterparts, but boys favored a style that told nothing of themselves. They seemed to prefer to hide amongst their peers; wearing clothing that all but shouted their anxiety in being here. Girls, by contrast, were artists who used themselves as canvas. They appeared day by day in dress which, by some trinket, bit of jewelry or fabric adornment, spoke volumes of whom they thought they were, or should be, or wanted to be. Sometimes their mistakes were painful; experiments gone awry but flaunted in spite of themselves. At other times one girl, here or there, one day or another, would take his breath away.
Girls who seemed to see their own sexuality peeking over the horizon and who greeted it with playfulness provided his most pleasurable moments. They could be startlingly erotic, as much for the old man=s certain (or hopeful) knowledge that they were mostly clueless as for sexual nature in the acts themselves. They accomplished this erotica in the most straightforward fashion: by showing and improving skin. A midriff exposed, naval pierced or a tattooed shoulder or calf had an impact from a twelve year old barely into the curse that no professional temptress could approach. The flash of panty clad buttock exposed as a result of girlish prankishness was a match for any blatant sexual act in its capacity to provoke immediate and painful arousal in him.
In the end it was skin that caught and kept him on his surreptitious erotic safari. It was the hope for a glimpse of that which he had no more, either on him or around him: supple, smooth, resilient skin. And it was here that the root of his observatorial avocation lay, for in watching these children, he put his own imminent death aside for a while....
clover:
thank you for the birthday wishes, I've been having a lot of fun, getting old you know 20 and all. I will read your journal later as I do not have a lot of time and it is a long entry.