2

Jared takes a look at his clock. 12:05 PM. Time to start the day. Starting with pants.

Of course next will be food. And by food, Jared is referring to instant coffee. The Breakfast of Champions. Yet upon opening the pantry, he discovers a bag of microwavable bacon. Jared does not remember purchasing such food. Nor can he think of why he would put it in the pantry. But seeing it as a significant improvement over what he had planned. And look: the chai latte tea in the refrigerator wasn’t quite as empty as he had thought. It would appear that Jared is, for the first time in weeks, actually starting his day with something that resembles a meal.

Across the table, Jared has propped up his current painting. He had hoped that the location would allow him to think on his work as he eats, although the lack of any recent progress speaks volumes about how effective that thinking has been. He had begun working on it shortly after his breakup, with the intent of throwing all his emotions into the art. One can certainly see this; there is far too much an emphasis on the color blue, and partway through he appears to have given up and started throwing paint onto the canvas in some wretched fit of grief. Since then, productivity has ceased. He cannot make himself draw upon the same depth of emotions which initially started the work anymore.

Perhaps dream recordings…. Jared wracks his mind to recall what he dreamt about. He pulls out a sketchbook, and tries to piece together the details. Hm…. An annoyingly difficult task. Something about corridor… darkness… weird floaty bits… a lake? Well, now that he tries to bring back the image, it was really a river, but his dream self insisted on calling it a lake….

Upon glancing down to his sketchbook, Jared finds that he has been sketching in his absentminded state. Well, not exactly sketching. That would require him to actually be drawing something, whereas this is closer to a random series of geometric shapes. Very angular, very harsh; not close at all to the smooth curves and soft shapes which Jared usually does. Not very helpful for his current piece either. Still, something to keep on hand in case inspiration is needed at a later time.

Inspiration! That’s what he needs now! Jared jumps from his char, over to the cupboard, opens it….
Why is there a bag full of weed in his cupboard?
Surely Jared would remember that. Did someone leave it when they came over? But it’s been so long since he’s had guests, he would have noticed it before now…. Besides, Jared would never indulge in such a hobby. He is proud of having spent most of his life staying on the straight and narrow.

But that inspiration. That’s what he needs. Jared reaches past the bag and grabs a bottle of whiskey. A drop of this will help. Maybe two drops. Three, that’s the magic number. Oh, why not just keep the bottle on hand. Never know when he may need more inspiration.

What was that we were talking about again?
Oh, yes. Straight and narrow.

Still no luck. Flicking on the television, there’s an interview with a local sculptor happening. Perhaps that’s what Jared should try? Sculpting? But wait, that would require tools which he lacks. Well, perhaps it’s something to keep in mind. Jared mentally notes to himself to purchase the basic necessities for sculpting once the opportunity arises. And preferably once he has figured out what these basic necessities actually are.

Still no luck. The apartment begins to feel stuffy, almost unbearably hot. Being trapped in here all day cannot be good at all, Jared decides, and he quickly walks out the door into the cool air. Quite the improvement.

Jared lives in the fashionable part of the city, close enough to downtown for easy access to its luxuries while still avoiding actually being downtown. He walks down the sidewalks, letting his mind wander as he tries to think on his art. The newspaper stands are selling a story about some Tragedy, he overhears two women gossiping about something that was Tragic, a billboard over a building has the word Tragedy printed in large letters, each containing their tale of woe and violence, yet Jared appears to lack the sociopathic leanings required to take inspiration from this. How unfortunately dull.

The streets are mostly empty, a feature which Jared enjoys. Not too many people out walking around in the middle of a Wednesday.

Wait… Wednesday…. There’s something about Wednesday afternoons… something that Jared’s supposed to do….

Oh. Yes. Work. A job. Earning the money needed to actually support himself. Jared really should get onto that.

Now we see the panicked rush as he turns around and has to throw himself together in order to prepare for work. Look what you people have done. All your terrible distractions will make him late. At least he has a boss who is forgiving.

Following a frantic bike ride, Jared is at the door of his job: a small used bookstore on a street corner, owned by Mrs. Friedman. A very kind and patient old woman (one would need to be in order to put up with Jared as an employee,) but her generosity is only exacerbating the guilt which Jared feels for his tardiness. As he puts his hand on the door, I would gather that he is formulating an apology for her. However, I am feeling curious, so his life shall be put on pause for the time being as I pass over the reins to you. Have fun.


Comments close 2/17/12