The Man Gets Stuck On One Word
The man gets stuck on one word, one word, word, I get stuck on one word, that’s me, I’m the man, I’m that man, and that man he goes into shops and people look at him because he – that’s me – can’t speak without repeating things over and over and its very hard to communicate and I’ve been like this for as long as I can remember.
‘Would you like any cash-back?’ says the shop assistant, shop assistant.
‘Twenty pounds, pounds, twenty pounds,’ and I gruff and cough and click my head and someone behind me is sniggering.
The man gets his money and leaves but he’s forgotten to buy apples but never mind, I’ll buy them tomorrow if I remember, but that’ll be difficult, I have a narrative in my head, commentary on everything I do – he does – that’s me, and now he’s going up the escalator and I wonder what would happen in this shopping centre if a bomb went off? Boom! And the escalator – escalators are weird when you think about them – I know I know, stop talking to yourself, stop it, just stop – but escalators go up and they go down but not many, not any go sideways, do they? No man, I don’t think so man, unless you count the ones at airports that slide you along like a crab, and the man’s head is shaking from side to side and I have to clear my throat three times, three times and pause, then three times again and my head flips forward and back and there are people below me on the escalator looking up to see what all the fuss is about, but its just me, just me and I have to say,
‘Aeroplanes, aeroplanes, flying fuck, click, yes I know, fucking shit, bollocks, wanker, cunt.’
And those people are looking ahead now, being polite, polite, everyone so polite.
But everyone hurts, everything hurts, the shopping centre hurts, the clothes hurt, the air hurts, my head and my eyes and my ears hurt, swelled like a balloon that can’t pop, I have to keep the mind busy, keep it ticking, happy, otherwise the universe will invade my head, don’t be absurd, absurd, on Clarence Street the man isn’t feeling good, never that good because I have no one, not a soul, no family or friends, no wife or girlfriend, and I am a sphere, actually a square with right-angles, very sharp, they’ll cut you up, they’ll cut you up man, cut you right to the bone on those funny little right-angles, not left, left, left, but right. Oh man, oh man, oh man, words are right angles, they’re right angles! They cut me up so bad, and wait, wait, wait, that’s it.
laughed out loud at “don’t be absurd, absurd,”… thanks
Love the flow!
Reminds me of someone teetering on the edge of insanity. A relative term for anyone trying to make sense of the world.
This is a brilliant piece of writing. It’s not about insanity, of course, but about asperger syndrome, a high functioning form of autism. What I like about this is that it captures the pain in the main character while still showing the humanity and intelligence inside. It also shows, when the apple–metaphorically human knowledge–is not taken, but paid for, how difficult the world really is for those who have been handicapped by the circumstances of their lives. The character does not lose either humanity or intelligence by forgetting to take the apple, and his life goes on as before, nor, in the story, does he even truly despair inside his pain–which means he is courageous, but he hopes he’ll remember to buy another apple tomorrow. Great writing.
Hey Thomas,
Thanks for the clarification. It flew over my head from the asperger sysndrom aspect. Unless one is familiar to that kind of behavior, which I was not, it could be interpreted differently. All the same, anyone, no matter what level of intelligent still faces running through life, and all its crazyness, trying to decipher where that line is between sanity and insanity. Sometimes its a fine line, no matter from what mental capacity.
That’s a superb piece of writing
One of the juniors in my choir is high-functioning Aspergers. When he first joined the choir (aged 7) he couldn’t keep still for a minute and wouldn’t stop talking. But I decided he was a little genius, who needed his million questions answered, but not all at once. He also had to learn not to disrupt a group and become part of a team, which meant I had to make our music sessions interesting enough for him to focus upon the activity for increasing lengths of time.
Aged 12, he’s still in the choir and can keep perfectly still for great lengths of time. He is also a black belt in karate, and a highly valued member of a football team.
Of course, some Aspergers people suffer far greater agitation, and might even have underlying psychiatric problems. Having worked as a psychiatric nurse in the past, I think that labelling of people is a multi-edged sword – it gets them the practical help and understanding they need, but maybe also puts them in a box with closed sides, where difference becomes a condition.
i cried. it’s so sad, how lonely he feels, how out of control. it hurts.
Perfect, this is exactly what our culture has become, we have become stuck on one word. Making fun of, or looking straight ahead acting like we don’t notice but the madness is right in our face, “that’s me”. Only art can communicate so many complex problems so quickly and that’s why we need the humanities so desperately. Keep at your art, I think you are building a powerful statement.