Knot the Not (also known as Deleting “And” an editing exercise)
Something eluded him like he didn’t know. Nothing made any sense or was in its place but he still felt there was something to find or figure out, if only he could find it.
Just then the doorbell warbled and he realized that there was sunshine outside and traffic going by and radios playing and maybe even someone at the door, but who knows, or who knew.
He didn’t and so he let the bell ring again and then it rang no more and he thought that was sort of poetry in a real urban sense; it had a beginning ,middle and an end., or maybe not so much of an end because as they say somewhere out there in the land of sayings, every end is really a beginning and he ran that through his cerebral cortex a few times and marveled at the word, cerebral cortex. Was it just a syllable heavy gobble of words for brain?
He didn’t know and there was certainly not a dictionary handy, at least not one that would require him to get up from his less than comfortable but what were his options anyway, kind of horizontal stance. He had to pee for one thing, but no amount of blistering sunshine was going to get him up just at this moment. He was content to lay there, or lie there. He could not decide if he was laying or lying and then he could not decide if all of this was a lie.
What was this anyway, that he now found himself back at. He was looking for something but he felt like he was being tied in an intricate knot. No, not an intricate knot, not a logical knot, not a sailor’s knot or any knot that someone could talk him through, like how to land a jumbo jet once all the crew had been killed off or something, but more like a twisted, stupid knot that comes from throwing a pile of rope or that extension cord that you need in a hurry and the fucking thing got all screwed up in a knot––that kind of knot––and he’s slithering and choking his way through that knot and getting no where except tighter and tighter and more confused about where he started and where he might stop, but as I said, he was already on his way, the knot and metaphor were already losing him and he had to catch up.
He had to get out in front and be there to yell at whatever it was that he was catching up to and he had to say, “Stop” and he had to do it in a way that meant something. That he could see and the thought could see and the two of them could come to some sort of agreement and recognize and then and only then might the knot stop and he might see whatever it was that he could not see in the beginning of all this and that would be the beginning and he’d be right back where he started which was just as confusing to begin with since whatever it was eluded him and he didn’t know.
Just then the doorbell warbled and he realized that there was sunshine outside and traffic going by and radios playing and maybe even someone at the door, but who knows, or who knew.
He didn’t and so he let the bell ring again and then it rang no more and he thought that was sort of poetry in a real urban sense; it had a beginning ,middle and an end., or maybe not so much of an end because as they say somewhere out there in the land of sayings, every end is really a beginning and he ran that through his cerebral cortex a few times and marveled at the word, cerebral cortex. Was it just a syllable heavy gobble of words for brain?
He didn’t know and there was certainly not a dictionary handy, at least not one that would require him to get up from his less than comfortable but what were his options anyway, kind of horizontal stance. He had to pee for one thing, but no amount of blistering sunshine was going to get him up just at this moment. He was content to lay there, or lie there. He could not decide if he was laying or lying and then he could not decide if all of this was a lie.
What was this anyway, that he now found himself back at. He was looking for something but he felt like he was being tied in an intricate knot. No, not an intricate knot, not a logical knot, not a sailor’s knot or any knot that someone could talk him through, like how to land a jumbo jet once all the crew had been killed off or something, but more like a twisted, stupid knot that comes from throwing a pile of rope or that extension cord that you need in a hurry and the fucking thing got all screwed up in a knot––that kind of knot––and he’s slithering and choking his way through that knot and getting no where except tighter and tighter and more confused about where he started and where he might stop, but as I said, he was already on his way, the knot and metaphor were already losing him and he had to catch up.
He had to get out in front and be there to yell at whatever it was that he was catching up to and he had to say, “Stop” and he had to do it in a way that meant something. That he could see and the thought could see and the two of them could come to some sort of agreement and recognize and then and only then might the knot stop and he might see whatever it was that he could not see in the beginning of all this and that would be the beginning and he’d be right back where he started which was just as confusing to begin with since whatever it was eluded him and he didn’t know.
posted by Bob Shattuck at 4:59 PM
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