Sunday, August 23, 2009


There isn't much to sitting. All you have to do is bend your knees and relax. It is a reaction to fatigue, a reflex. Your mind tells your body that your legs are tired. You sit. This is simple.

Still, Gertrude preferred to believe there was an expertise to sitting, a system, even a style. She said it didn't depend on how you sat, but why you were sitting. Some did it to relax, and others to quench their laziness. Others, still, sat to stimulate thought, preferring comfort over pacing.

How many, I wonder, sat the way she did?

"Time is mine. Sitting's just the easiest way to make sure of it."

"That seems a little juvenile."

"Well, I'm seventeen. It makes sense."

"No, I mean it seems childish. There are a million other things you could be doing with your time."

"Exactly. There are a million other things. That's why I like to sit. It's the act of not doing something."

I wondered why I liked her. I mean, I really thought about it.

Gertrude pulled the hair out of her face, and she kept colouring the birthday sign.

I remembered why I liked her.

Juvenile? I was a hypocrite.

1 comment:

  1. You, sir, should write more, because I love reading your blog.