Painting Pictures in Red and Blue

The river pebble waits
patiently

eroding
away

until it can call
itself
a

pebble

This is a short story I wrote a couple of months ago but I never got around to editing until now. I wrote another story much more recently, which is better than this one, and I’ll post that later this week when I get a chance to type it up. But for now here’s this:

———————————————

This past summer I took a trip down to the amusement park on the shore that my dad and I used to go to when I was younger. It had been years since the last time I’d been there and I needed to see something fimiliar before going away to college. I didn’t tell anyone I was going, except for my mom who made me a bag lunch, which included amongst other things, a ham and swiss sandwich. As I started the car she told me to say safe, and to watch out for “bad boys” whatever that’s supposed to mean. The image of her waving in my rear view mirror grew smaller as I drove away.

The trip was much shorter than I remembered. In retrospect, the ride to the shore was always much more iconic than I ever recognized. I could always tell how close we were based on a checklist of landmarks we would pass every time. The tall neon cowboy at Uncle Bobby’s rib shack meant we were officially out of the city. The sharp right turn at the three apple trees meant we would be getting food at the Easy Street diner soon. I always got chicken fingers, fries, and a big chocolate milkshake. I swear, the Easy Street diner made the best chocolate milkshakes in the world. The bridge over the river meant it was just a little longer. By the time I got to the rib shack I was running out of gas and I was getting pretty hungry so I stopped there to fuel up and eat. It wasn’t until I sat down and saw the menu that I realized I had never actually eaten there before. I had seen it a million times but never been in. The ribs were alright.

I kept driving as I passed by the apple trees and the bridge. I thought it was funny how I needed the GPS to get there. I thought that by now I would have had to known the way to get there. I guess going to the shore was something that just happened. You never really got there, you were just there when you needed to be. You especially never needed to know how to get there or where it was. It was just there, and you were fine with that as long as your parents would take you. Thats just how it is when you’re a kid.

When I arrived, I immediately got out of the car and got a corn dog. I wasn’t even that hungry, I just really wanted it as soon as I saw the enormous signs all over the place. Welcome to “Adventures at the Shore” and “We promise you’ll have a blast” and “Try our delicious Corn Dogs.” I suppose it was that last one. I walked in under the last welcome sign into the “park.” It was a path leading to the boardwalk lined with some shops and a playground. The playground was for mothers and kids who didn’t want to get wet or dirty but still wanted to play in the sand. I remember being sent there but always wanting to follow my brothers onto the boardwalk. One day I did and my mother almost had an attack. When she found me, I thought she would be mad but she just kept hugging me. But when I tried it again a year later she wasn’t as happy.

The boardwalk was nice, but something about it just wasn’t right. I didn’t know what I wanted to feel, but this wasn’t it. I guess I expected some kind of cheezy nostalgic experience, but this walk left me feeling more empty than if I hadn’t left home at all. Everything seemed smaller, which isn’t a suprise, but that made the whole park seem so finite. When I was a kid, it was like that park could go on forever. There would always be more stores to shop at, more restuarants to binge at, more boards to walk on. Now I could pretty much see my car for most of the time I was walking. I bet I could probably tell you how many feet I was from my car, if you were so inclined to know.

At exactly 1127 ft from the parking lot was the Big Baddie, that one roller coaster that everyone was afraid of. Even the big kids were too scared to go on it. You’d see them go up to it with every intention of being brave and confident and heroic, but when they got there they would always find something wrong with the engineering, or the weather would be too dangerous or the ride operator was too drunk. It took me years to realize that the big guys were the ones getting the operator drunk. They told us how much fun it was but eventually we all realized it was just an easy way to get out of situations they wanted to avoid.

Eventually I went on the Big Baddie with my girlfriend, Daisy, over the summer between 9th and 10th grade. It seemed like most of the big kids I knew were eternally in the 11th or 12th grades and even they were afraid for me. Of course she didn’t know I was scared, and I knew she wasn’t either. Daisy was always excited to try new things, especially things that would make her experience something new like a new world or a new way of thinking. I was always a little timid about trying the things she suggested for me but she always told me that’s what life was about and how it would make me a new person if I did. So I usually followed her anywhere she wanted to go, and unfortunately for me, she wanted to ride the Big Baddie. So I went for a ride. “It can’t be that bad,” I thought “it’s just a ride. I’ll be safe the whole time. Nothing that I wouldn’t expect can happen.”

Needless to say, a coaster with that level of hype could not be as calm as I expected. As we started to ascend the track reaching that highest point where potential takes control, she grabbed my hand with her’s and looked at me with a very cute, sincere smile. She talked me through the whole thing too. I guess she noticed I was nervous. “Just keep breathing,” she said “once you get to the top you won’t have time to be nervous. Even if you don’t like it, you’ll never be happier than the moment you get off.”

Daisy was a sweet girl. I loved her but she made me crazy. Most of the time I just couldn’t understand what she was thinking or rather, why she was thinking it. The first time we kissed she broke it off early because apparently she had an inexplicable desire to do cartwheels. We kissed often but I always had the feeling that she wasn’t quite there. I think she would kiss me because she didn’t have a cookie or a magazine or a big open field anywhere nearby. I didn’t mind because she always made me smile and she always had the time to listen to my problems. That came in handy because I never seemed to have as many problems as I did when I was with her. I guess it was just that time in high school where you get more problems than you can deal with and they haven’t taught you how to ingore them yet.

As we got to the top, everything started to slow down. The car I was in was literally going slower, but even the world around me wasn’t like it should be. I looked over at Daisy and she was still holding my hand. She smiled again, and then she leaned over and kissed me. Just before she moved back, she whispered “I love you” and stroked my hair for a bit. Kisses from her always gave me chills, especially when they were followed by her hands in my hair. No matter how bad I was feeling, that could make me feel better. This time however, it didn’t work. I had that feeling of intense happiness I always felt when she kissed me, but it was mixed with this absolutely unbearable sick feeling I had in my stomach. I didn’t know if it was being caused by the realization of my elevation, the horrified looks on the ant-people on the surface of the earth, or the effects of that questionably fresh corn dog I ate earlier. I had a feeling it was a mixture of all those things, plus a few others. You’d think the two feelings might cancel each other out, but instead they just combined fully and horribly like diet coke and mentos flowing through your veins. And I don’t care what she or anyone else had to say about it or about how life is full of experiences like those, I didn’t like it.

There isn’t much I have to say about the rest of the ride except that I absoutely hated it and it was the most horrid minute I had ever expereinced. After the first downhill rush came and went and we started to slow down on the incline, I just stared at her, mortified, clinging to my seat for dear life, pleading to god to give me just one more chance, and she sat there smiling and waving and happy. And I hated it. I never hated anything before but I hated that she liked it. I didn’t know why. I never wished for anyone to feel anything but happiness before but for the first time in my life, I wanted someone to be miserable. I wanted to strangle her right then and there so I wouldn’t have to hear her laughing as my stomach came up my throat as we fell into the mercy of earth’s mysterious forces once again, and again and again until the drunken ride operator decided Daisy had gained enough happiness for the $2.50 price tag. When we got off the ride, I felt horrible. I mean my stomach felt disgusting but I really felt terrible that I’d had so much hatred for this girl just a few minutes earlier. I told her I loved her and I never wanted to let her go. She wanted to get some cotton candy.

Standing at the enterance of this ride years later I noticed how insignificant it was. Not that it wasn’t an indimidating roller coaster but it just seemed so simple now as opposed to the deadly monster it was in the old days. I sat there thinking about how optional the terror was. I could be horrified and miserable and full of regret, or, I couldn’t not pay the $2.50 and just walk away. So I did, and I got another corn dog and some cotton candy. Junk food is much more enjoyable when you can keep it down.

I walked to the end of the boardwalk and back. When I got to the parking lot I turned around and walked it again. It wasn’t any different the second time. Slightly dissapointed I got back in the car and took off. I drove home slowly, watching the sun set off in the distance. As I passed the sharp turn by the apple trees, I pulled over and sat for a while thinking. After about 15 minutes of listening to music and watching cars whiz by, I turned around and drove back to the Easy Street diner, where I sat at a booth, watching the traffic on the road, sipping an almost delicious milkshake.

I decided to change the name of this blog from Non-Olfactory Thoughts to Painting Pictures in Red and Blue. Non-Olfactory is from a quote from The Great Gatsby (which I made the first entry of the blog), and it’s referring to the scent of fresh, untainted, non-greedy money. I think that’s what it was, if I remember correctly. Besides the fact that I thought it sounded good as a title, I thought it also applied to writing somewhat because good writing should be refreshing. A bold distinction from the everyday experience. You should feel comfortable with its familiarity but enticed by its freshness. So I thought I would call this blog Non-Olfactory thoughts because I was hoping to use the title to capture my feelings about writing. But I changed it to Painting Pictures in Red and Blue. It’s a quote from a Bayside song called Masterpiece. I think one of the main reasons is that every time I listen to that song, I can never really figure out what the meaning is in the song. It seems like it makes sense but.. I don’t really know. I don’t know why it’s red and blue. I just love the ambiguity of it. Writing should definitely paint a picture for the reader. Something about how direct this line is really sticks with me. Also another reason is that I’ve been singing it to myself over and over again for the past few days and its stuck in my head. So, at least for now, this blog shall be known as painting pictures in red and blue.

Also I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my all of my subscribers and everyone who liked my poem and short story. Within the next few days I’m going to be writing a new short story, completely original characters and plot this time. So thanks for subscribing and that story will be up fairly soon (as soon as I get the time and peace of mind to get it down on paper).

I read Catcher in the Rye again recently, and I felt like writing a story from the point of view of Holden Caulfield. It’s supposed to fit into the beginning of chapter 17, sorta. I know it’s pretty much exactly like the Sally Hayes story, but it was difficult coming up with a new adventure for Holden, and honestly I was just doing this as a writing exercise for myself. So, here it is, let me know what you think. Thanks.

—————————

“Holden?” she asked. “Could it be? Holden Caulfield?”

Boy was I glad to hear that voice. It was good ol’ Ellen, right here in the flesh. I almost got up and kissed her right then and there. I guess you could say I had a bit of a thing for her back in the old days. She was one of these girls who couldn’t ever believe a nice word anyone said about her. Boys would swoon all over for her and she’d act like this self sacrificing goddanm ego-less hero and say “Oh you, you don’t really mean that, go flirt with the pretty girls.” But damn, was she pretty. I’ve seen a few pretty faces in my life and boy did she take the cake.

I remember there was this boy named Allen Hendersen who used to go around with her for a while, and boy did he have it bad for her. He damn near went crazy going around making sure she got treated like a goddamn princess. Once in a while those grade-A football bastards would joke around a bit just to get him hot under the collar. They’d always be making up all kinds of dumb crap about her. You’d hear them say garbage like “Hey, I heard Ellen gave the time to Sam Edwards under the bleachers during the game yesterday” or “If you’re looking for a good smooch, go talk to Ellen, but make sure you bring yer wallet!” Crazy bastards.

Boy, ol’ Al would get steamed. “Now you see here,” he’d say. “Don’t you ever spread that kind of talk about my angel, ya hear? Or I’ll bop all of ya!” My angel! Get a load of that! His angel. Its like he was just waiting for the day when she’d come down, fly by his window and whisk him away to paradise, or heaven, or whatever it is that young boys in love believe in these days.

Once in a while one of these dopes would go straight up to Ellen and pedal on about how her tough guy boyfriend Al gave ‘em a good shake up and they learned a big ol’ lesson. The phonies even apologized to her, all convincing and everything. What an act to see, I’m telling ya. Then Ellen would storm off to find old Al and say “You know I don’t like it when you get into fights over me. You know I don’t care about what those boys say, all that matters is that you love me!” Then he’d give her a big ol’ hug and they’d kiss for days and days. Boy did that make me sick. She was the worst of them all! That phony loved knowing she was a hot issue, you could just see it in the way she would smile. How she really got her kicks was by acting like she hated that spotlight on her. “Don’t you know you could take an eye out fighting like that?” She’d say. “You’ll never be able to see me again!” Boy I’ll tell ya, hearing junk like that got me just about ready to to take her eye out!

She really did have some of the best damn eyeballs around though, if you want to know the truth. Big and blue, and the cutest old nose. I once told Stradlater that I used to go around with a girl with a cute nose, and he laughed so hard I was afraid he was going to have an attack and fall on the floor. I never expected him to understand anyway. Her nose was cute though, I swear, the way it met her dumb ol’ round, rosy cheeks and her little old mouth. I’m crazy, I know it, but if you showed me a room full of noses, I bet I could pick her out in no time at all.

“Holden Caulfield?” she said again. I think she liked saying my name. Or maybe I liked hearing her say it. I got up.

“Hey, yeah, its me, Holden.”

“Oh Holden! How nice it is to see you!”

I forgot to mention, she was a pretty big fan of me too. She always wanted my opinion on things. She kept asking me these dumb old questions like “Who doesn’t have a date to tonight’s big football game?” or “Which dress did I think Mickey McGinnley would like better.” I didn’t mind it so much because I knew it meant a lot to her whether I answered these questions or not, almost too much, as if I was some safety net she could blame her bad choices on. “Oh you like this dress?” She would tell people. “Holden picked it out for me. He said it makes me look pretty. He always thinks I look pretty.” I could tell a couple of guys wanted her dead. I thought I would too, but I was always getting lost in those goddamn diamonds in her eyesockets where her eyes should have been. They can do things to a fella, I’m telling ya.

“Nice to see you too.” I said. “I see you let your hair grow long.”

She really did. It must have been down to her goddamn armpits.

“Oh yes, well, it makes me feel so free and careless! Don’t you know what I mean Holden? Don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah I do, say, Elle,” I used to call her Elle back when we were kids. It felt good to say it again. “Say Elle, what are you doing in New York anyway?”

“I’m just spending the day in New York, then I’m traveling back home for Christmas. But never mind that, how are you Holden? How is Pencey?”

Boy was I tired of hearing people ask me that.

“It’s alright. Nothing spectacular.” I said. “How’s it going for you?”

Sometimes you just know it when a person is waiting for you to ask them a question at just the right moment in just the right way because they jump right down your throat.

“I am just splendid!” she proclaimed. “I do swimming and cheerleading, and I think by the end of the year I could be the captain of both! I’m still writing for the newspaper and I even got a spot as an official yearbook photographer, and, well, lets see, all my grades are all A- or above. The A- is in calculus, which is a terribly difficult class. Even my mother says so, and she’s just about the smartest woman I know!”

Just as I was about to lose my concentration and take a dip in those big blue pools between her ears, she managed to snatch my attention again.

“And just recently I took a trip with the environmental club to an old forest upstate. Verterra forest, it was called. Oh how splendid it was!”

There was that word again. Splendid. Boy if I could spit for just about every goddamn thing that was splendid, there wouldn’t be enough innocent victims worthy of receiving my goddamn loogies.

“Verterra forest you say?” I asked.

“Yes, yes! Have you ever been?” she responded.

“Well, no-”

“Oh you simply must!” she interrupted. “All the birds and the chirping and the green and, ahh the fresh air Holden, the sweet fresh air!”

Then suddenly she started to scratch her left elbow quickly, as if she’d never scratched her elbow in years. Boy did I love her.

“Verterra forest, eh?”

“Why yes! It’s simply splendid”

I didn’t notice her say splendid again because I was too distracted by my own meandering thoughts, too busy thinking about what she’d just said and the crazy ideas they’d led me to.

“You wanna go to Verterra forest?” I erupted. “Then dammnit, lets go! Just the two of us Elle.” I already had the bags packed in my mind.

“Go to… the forest,” she mumbled, “well, I suppose I could make arrangements, I could ask mother-”

“No, no,” I interrupted, “lets go now. Right now!” Boy was I getting excited.

“Holden,” she retorted, “how could you get such crazy ideas? These things don’t just happen you know, they require planning, preparation, and mutual agreements.”

Then she started scratching that elbow again. There must have been some stubborn colony of bacteria on her elbow eating away like madmen, driving her crazy.

“Well why!” I exclaimed. “Tell me why two people can’t just go away together and be happy!” By now I was starting to get pretty fumed.

“No need to shout, Holden.” she whispered. “These things do happen, but not in the convoluted way you expect them to. See, I do want to go with you. Truly, I do. But first I need to find a time off from school, make sure I don’t have any swim meets or yearbook conferences.”

People were always trying to get out of their swim meets and their yearbook conferences. I’d get a hoot out of it if she writes on the cover of that damn yearbook “Yearbook produced at the cost of countless Friday afternoons and a shot at a life.”

“Why don’t we try something simpler first.” she suggested. “How about we go take a walk through central park. Now that sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Considering the situation, that actually sounded about nice.

“Alright, sounds good Elle. Lets go for that. We can catch the bus on- ahh what am I thinking, we’ll grab a cab on-”

“No, no, Holden, not today! I’m sorry, I meant we should plan to go to Central Park. It’s too short notice for us to just up and go today.”

People always wanted to make plans. I’d love to take all the plans everyone’s ever had and put them in a book and read them to my goddamn grandkids sitting in the middle of the floor drooling all over each other bored to death.

“It’s alright, it’ll take no time at all, we’ll just take a cab-”

“No Holden, you don’t understand, I have to wait here, I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” I shouted “Waddaya mean your boyfriend! Who said anything about a goddamn boyfriend?”

“No reason to shout!” she said. “And excuse you! Yes, I am waiting for my boyfriend, is that so hard to believe? I have to be here to meet my boyfriend at 2:30. We’re going to the movies together.”

She was scratching her elbow again.

“He loves me very much, you know. It wasn’t like that at first though. It took me a very long time before he would stay in a room with me, let alone tell me that he loved me. When we first met, he said he knew me from the other fellas, and he said he’d rather die than be seen going around with me. Imagine! He said he would rather die! People say the funniest things sometimes without realizing it, don’t they Holden? Gosh, if only I told him now what he’d said back then, boy we’d have such a good laugh-”

“Wouldya stop scratching your goddamn elbow already?” I shouted. “Christ, it’s just a matter of time before you scratch the damn thing off!”

“My elbow?” she asked confusingly. “Why must you change- why must you make things so difficult Holden? All I’m trying to do is be friendly and social with you and all you do is keep lashing back at me! I’m just a girl, you know, there’s no reason to be hostile!”

By now I’d just about had enough. I couldn’t stand the fact that in the next five minutes she’d be on the phone crying away to her goddamn boyfriend.

“I don’t know what you call social.” I said. “You stay alright, Elle.”

I had started to walk away when I heard her say,

“Don’t you dare walk away from me Holden, you won’t meet anyone out there who will stand you like I do.”

But I just kept walking. I couldn’t think about anything besides Elle scratching her goddamn elbow, and her boyfriend wishing he was dead. I felt sorry for that poor sap. I wonder what she must have done to lead him to a trap like that. I wondered what possessed her to take on a challenge like that. I wondered what went on in his mind when he changed his mind from wanting to be dead to wanting her. God in my experience, a girl doesn’t want a damn thing to do with you unless you’re doing her a goddamn favor, I’m telling ya.

(Written in 2009)

It’s comforting to know
that even when the world
comes crashing down,
collapsing
under the massive weight
of its goals
and ambitions,
the humble, timid plant
survives.

Eternally motivated by innocence
and unconsciously blessed with ignorance,
it emerges.
Rising above the rubble,
stretching beyond the pain,
it grows, ever persistent,
slowly, and strong,
reaching
forever
into the sun.

I will be using this blog to publish some of my poems and prose as I see fit. They may be unedited or unfinished when I post them so keep that in mind. Also keep in mind that I am no writer. With that said, enjoy the blog and let me know what you think.