The Question

 

Kairos; more on kairosis in a future episode, because; acausal connecting principle!*

Dear Y'all,

I was at a party, and you know, I got asked that awkward question from the Trader Joe's checkout line:  What are you doing this weekend?  Trader Joe's associates put it in a little more contemporary language, like, "what are you up to today?"  Or, "have anything good planned for your weekend?"  Anyway, you know what a sudden and precipitous fall into a slippery sided and deep well this question is.  My mind goes frantic looking for something appropriate to reply; a lie even, anything.  Ideally something that makes me sound cultured, intelligent, interesting, fun, and generally a person with Important Things to Do and Places to Be.  And, you know, I am not.  I am actually kind of dithering, pottering, puttering, and loafing, like I love to do.  

Well.  You can imagine!  And this is why I love you so, you would never ask me such an existential crisis of a question, but, sometimes, even people you like ask this question, mostly out of awkwardness, I suspect.  I find myself often talking in these weird cipher phrases, kind of on autopilot, with my mouth forming inanities just as fast as jiminy.  But, that isn't important right now; what is important is that I got asked this question at a party, and so I looked to my mind for help, and all I could do, because I'd been reading a book for most of the day, was to sort of describe the place my mind still was, the world of the book.  I am pretty sure I sounded geeky, and not in a cute way; I think I also probably sounded snobby, and bewitched; and of course, of course, I sounded old, because I am.

The book, oh, yes, it was good!  A delight.  It made me see things I thought I had witnessed from sides I didn't know there were, and really, is there anything better than that?  A deepening of understanding of events, humanity, and your very own personal self?  So, let me try again with that dread question:  What did I do today?  I read an amazing thing that put all these little instances, all these small talks, into a massive tapestry of story and being, golden threads pulled me here and there, and time was at my command; I could look right or left, or travel up or down, and the field went on forever.  There were old friends, and old times, and old ideas, all sitting around waiting to gab with me, to sit close in the sun and watch the day go on.  How about you?

*  At the very same time as I was writing to you here, another of the Dodo's esteemed readers was pressing the big Donate button!  As clear an acausal connecting principle as any, but, I suppose, in truth it could be explained by chance, too.  But, oh pshh, chance is for children's games and fortune tellers; our lives must be a teeny tiny bit more than just that?  Oh, and I almost forgot: Here's Where the Story Ends.

wonderful, beautiful shoes

Kidskin sandal with layered cork sole and heel covered in suede.
 Designed by Salvatore Ferragamo for Judy Garland, 1938.



Dear Three Paragraphs, Introduction, and Conclusion,


I am often thinking on the Big Answers, that I have been the casual recipient of over time.  There was a man in the ferry waiting room en route to the Isle of Wight that was telling me something very important about what one 'owes' one's parents.  I never could grasp his meaning, but I am still trying to.  And I showed my studio once to another painter, and she looked around and said, "Well, I can see you have a story to tell."  I thought, do I?  I mean, I do? 

If I did have a story to tell, one story that would be the one that counted, the one that made it, the one I'd give to all the world's readers;  I can tell you that everyone in the story would be able to get their foot in the glass slipper, and they'd all get to live happily ever after.  It might at first seem like this would be entirely too much happily ever after, but no, not really, because to happily ever after you have to know what you want, and hardly anyone knows what they want.  There's so much to choose from.  You can't blame people for not wanting to settle for one thing or another.  Mostly, people wouldn't even put their foot into the shoe, because they couldn't be sure that was what they wanted.  So, in my story, the shoe would fit everyone, but only a very few would even try to wear it.

There is an essay that pertains to these issues of narrative, identity, and shoes, in Dave Hickey's new collection, Perfect Wave.  Here is an older version of the piece. 






PS
One of the little and particular changes between the essay published online and the version in the book is the adjective 'wonderful' before the word 'shoes,' in contrast to 'beautiful shoes,' as you will read it online.  This kind of difference is exciting, because it invites us to decide which is a better descriptor in this context:  wonderful or beautiful; and it further requires us to consider why Dave Hickey made the changes.  When he gathered his papers to review and select them for the book, what little sprite whispered to him "'wonderful' is the word you want there, Dave, 'wonderful.'"