people-sketch: Fall Semester 1997 (1)

Things are beginning to go off-kilter. I'm making it to school, but I'm not attending class. I'll show up and proceed to sit on various benches around campus...people-watching, people-listening...skipping class for days, weeks at a time. I'm beginning to roam, mentally. As the months go on, I'll deteriorate. When the school year ends, I'll stop fighting altogether, go into isolation.

But today is nice. It's quiet. I'm in front of the library, drinking coffee, breathing the tinted scent of autumn leaves.

Jen-ling marches up. That's her only walking mode: marching.

J: Matthew. Hello.

M: Hi Jen-ling.

J: Walk me to class?

M: Yes.

We march.

J: I see that you are moping again.

M: No, no. I was people-watching. It's different. Don't you ever people-watch?

J: Oh goodness. I can't sit and mope. No time for that.

M: It's not moping!

J: It is. Here is what you do. You sit. Then...

She gestures at her face. She frowns.

J: Moping.

M: Moping is a form of passivity. I'm contemplating. Which involves critical thought...which precludes the possibility of moping.

She takes out a small notebook, a pen.

J: Spell that. "Preclude".

This is one of her word-learning methods. She writes out the spelling of a word she is unfamiliar with...looks up the meaning later...then begins working it into her conversation. She never asks what the word means; just: "spell that".

J: I am willing to make one concession.

M: Okay.

J: While you do sit and mope... it is better than what most people do here.

She points at a group of students in front of a building.

J: That is what most people do here.

M: They're just standing around. Talking.

J: They are not just standing around. They are loitering. Loitering serves no purpose. Look at them! Like stopped clocks.

M: It's not time for class. What should they be doing?

J: Preparing. Doing things. Not loitering. Everywhere I go, people are just standing around. It's pervasive. You have seen the signs?

M: Which ones?

J: "No Loitering."

She throws up her hands.

J: The problem is that widespread. It warrants the posting of signs. "Go! Move!"

M: Huh. People do stand around a lot.

We pass another group of people standing around.

M: I hadn't realized how much.

J: Americans are blind to their habits.

M: Fortunately I never loiter. I sit and think. That's qualitatively different.

J: I have granted you that point.

We march. Two female students walk by, going in the opposite direction. They are wearing very short shorts, very tight t-shirts. As they are walking by, Jen-ling looks at me, wiggles her eye brows.

J: I saw you looking, Matthew.

M: No!

J: Too late. I know what I saw.

M: I was looking straight ahead.

She wiggles her eye brows again.

M: Stop that. Did...like, were you watching them? Did they look at me at all?

J: Oh, maybe they did. Maybe they did. If you need to think that.

M: I do.

J: All of the men here like that type of woman.

M: What does "that type" mean?

She thinks about it.

J: Bulky.

She sticks her chest out.

J: Bulky. My roommate and I discussed this. When we moved here, we were trying to determine why no one would talk to us. So many people here on campus, yet we were isolated, socially. Invisible. We formulated different theories...but it became obvious: people like breasts. If you are flat-chested, no one sees you.

M: I'm flat-chested. Your theory would explain a lot about my life.

J: Hee. Easy to fix. Stick your chest out like me.

We stick our chests out.

J: There. Now we are bulky. People will see us.

M: Finally.

We reach her building. She looks at her watch.

J: Ack. I still have ten minutes. Let's walk around the building. Do you have time?

M: Yes.

We march.

M: So. You don't like bulky women...

She wrinkles her nose.

M: But a lot of the guys around here...the frat guys...they're muscular. Bulky. Are they equally distasteful?

J: Oh no. They are handsome.

M: What's the difference?

J: Muscles look fit...healthy. Muscular men look handsome. Women, when their breasts are exposed...it's vulgar.

M: Is that what you like about me? The astonishing physique?

I flex. She pats arm.

J: Oh, maybe that's it. If you need to think that, Matthew.

Marching, marching. The building rotates around us. She checks her watch, goes to class. I sit on a bench and watch squirrels fight.

The end.