Saturday, November 09, 2013

Sunday, November 03, 2013

post 759. agent scrantom sits by the camp fire.

It was a strange thing. But then, isn't everything? In a way? We all look back, always back, well, of course we can only look back with certainty. You can't look forward with certainty...only the past is concrete. Only the past is facts. Places. Dates. Things happened. But the perception of those events...yes. To me, it was a strange thing. Grown men, whizzing around on skates, slapping at a piece of hardened rubber. Someone thought, "I should use these ice skates and"...and ice skates? Who thought that up? You have to go back. Always back. Always something before. The hockey, the skates. The skates - some fool was falling all over the ice. And then, because he was a loon, he thought - and really, think about how silly this is - "I'll put some knife blades sideways on the bottom of my shoes and whip around the ice." Think of how stupid he looked. Or she. Whatever. This isn't about he or she. Someone had that thought. So then that first fool, if they didn't break their ankle, showed another fool, and soon enough, there you have it. People on skates. Probably hunting or something. But then somebody ELSE said, "let's compete in someway." Now racing I can see: the most basic form of competition (athletic, that is) comes in the form of racing. One fool has to be faster than the other. I don't besmirch NASCAR; the Romans killed each other with chariots faaar before hockey. But. Where was I? Surely, someone started bloviating about how good they were at skating. And then they were racing. And then someone had sticks and started hitting things, who knows, a dead cat, perhaps. But hit it into what? Let's see if we can make a goal of some kind. And then it grows. It blossoms. Someone makes better skates; someone spends hours, days, YEARS, perhaps, making the perfect hockey stick. Then, soon enough, the dickhead in the group tries affixing rules. People get hurt; more rules. A team is made. My city has a better bunch of hooligans whizzing around on skates smacking a dead cat into a goal area than your city. Then there's a whole blossoming of people playing this sport. And the ones who are no good become referees, and the ones who know better become spectators. And there you have it. Hockey. Such a strange thing. Why don't you invent it? Invent what? Hockey? Invent hockey? Well, my savage friend, the sport is played on ice. Which doesn't happen here. And besides. I've taught you English, and that is a triumph. But I can't skate. So you're a referee? (Laughs.) Ah, you're paying attention. Well done. Well done. No, I just find it strange and have better pursuits. Shh! (Listens. Pulls out knife. Whispering.) What do you hear? (Pause.) Nothing.