I had this habit of highlighting the quotes which struck me the most whenever I’d read a book. The paperback I just bought didn’t escape this kind of fate, as well. The story was easy to read, and the main character was very relatable. Though I didn’t get to be friends with people who offered me cannabis brownies, gave me a typewriter and a suit for Christmas or maybe even drove me inside a tunnel, I still found the story heartwarming. The one that caught my attention, however, was the poem included in that novel. Somehow, it reminded me of that stranger. And that was when I wondered why I was attracted to sad things in the first place.

   My classmate, who confessed to me, stopped coming to school altogether the week after it happened. I had no idea where her family went. All I could recall was the steady whirring of the air conditioner inside our classroom, and the voice of our teacher, bouncing against the mahogany walls. In a nutshell, he told us that one of our classmates dropped out due to personal reasons. I never knew what that reason was, and I think that was what bothered me the most. I had no idea why, though.

   I was in the music room one afternoon, and instead of composing, I only sat on the leather sofa, staring at the black bass guitar which was standing in front of me. That was the one she would usually use whenever she practiced. I guess I did notice things about her. I simply didn’t realize it until she was gone. That was how it always was, I suppose. You don’t notice things unless they’re gone.

   “Shouldn’t you be composing?” a voice boomed behind me, causing me to sit up straight. I looked at the person, and smiled a little upon seeing that it was only Yonghwa, my classmate who originally came from Busan. He was a pro when it comes to playing the guitar, and his voice was something else. We belonged in the same subgroup within our class, and so I didn’t find it difficult to talk to him. Without saying a word he plopped himself on the vacant spot beside me, and handed me a can of soda afterwards.

   “Thanks,” I said.

   “What are you doing, spacing out like that?” he asked.

   I nodded at the bass guitar. “I was simply wondering.”

   “Where she went?”

   I paused, and replied, “Yeah.”

   “She’s a great bassist,” he remarked. “I never really expected her to play that kind of instrument. With her small frame and all.”

   I chuckled. “Yeah.”

   Yonghwa and I stayed silent after that. We simply stared ahead, and after a while, the both of us stood up. He stationed himself in a corner, an acoustic guitar in hand, while I went to the recording studio to compose.

   People, I learned, could come and go in a blink of an eye. Everything happened so quickly. That classmate of mine confessed to me not too long ago and suddenly, there she was: a person I couldn’t even get a hold of. I wondered, then, if the same thing would happen between Woohyun and I. It was more plausible, though, considering our connection with each other was more fragile. One deactivation or inactivity could end our comfortable conversations and imaginary meetings.

   It was funny, because the moment that thought crossed my mind, I suddenly felt this gush of loneliness swipe at my heart. If I asked myself if I was sad, what kind of answer would I give?  I pondered on that thought longer than I had expected.

   In the end, I decided not to answer it.

<:>

stargazer
2012-07-10 22:43
tagged as: #poem

A Person/A Paper/A Promise

Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it 'Chops'
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a 
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night 
And was always there to do it.

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it 'Autumn'
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it 'Innocence: A Question'
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at 3 A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly.

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it 'Absolutely Nothing' 
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen. 

—Dr. Earl Reum

<:>

   “You posted a depressing poem,” Woohyun pointed out.

   “I guess I did,” I replied.

   “Why?”

   “Because I find sad words beautiful.”

   “Sensible enough, Sunggyu. Sensible enough.”

   There was a pause in our conversation, and so I suggested, “Do you want to stargaze with me?”

   “How?” he asked.

   I smiled a little, and shared a link with him. It was one of my favorite websites. It showed a live view of the night sky, with still stars scattered everywhere. It was silent for a short while.

   “What’s that?” Woohyun finally asked.

   “M31,” I answered.

   “Your favorite?”

   “One of them.”

   “I see,” he replied.

   I saw ourselves lying down on the low hill in my neighborhood. I pointed up at the dark sky. “Do you know those three stars?”

   “The ones that form a line?”

   “Yeah,” I said. “Orion. That’s my favorite, as well.”

   “Why?”

   “It’s very noticeable.”

   “We’re under the same sky,” he pointed out.

   “We are,” I agreed.

   “And yet we meet beneath illusory stars.”

Last message received at 01:10 on 2012/07/11

"But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head."
- Psalm 3:3