|| -------- -- -----  A E R I E   O B L I V I A N A . singular book of text wandertainment by Frank Edward Nora ------------------- ----------- IRREGULAR SHIRT--CUP 4--"FREEZING AIR FELT GOOD" <-------  ||  Severe Repair  ||  Irregular Shirt  ||  -------> (Cup SRis004, Created v2 (6/7/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Doug Brine here. A few days ago I was lounging around my dorm room at college and wasting time, as usual. The obscure music I was listening to got me thinking about stupid things and made me fall into a very weird state of mind. But then restlessness got the best of me and I left. I was halfway down the hall before I realized that I'd forgotten my coat. Walking back to my room, I felt momentarily lightheaded--and some people were yelling in the room next to mine--but I ignored them as I got my coat. Seconds later, as I was ambling down the stairs, I traced arcane symbols on the wall with my left ring finger. I wondered vaguely as to why I was doing this, and the next several steps were a whizzing blur as I blammed out into the stinging chill of the night. Distant music booming from windows stirred tribal feelings deep within my breast as I stepped upon the lawn and set my way towards the student center. The freezing air felt good on my face, exciting in my lungs. I pretended that I was a vast king, and that the college was my kingdom. I saw some girls over on the walkway and they were my concubines. I came upon the pavement then. The old violin then came to mind as I headed down the road. It was in my attic at home, and I thought about how I could play it at a virtuoso level of expertise, even though I had never taken a lesson in my life. No one else knew, and I feared revealing my talent to anyone, dreading being referred to as an idiot savant, or other such oddity. I was just born with the ability, I suppose, whatever sense that makes. Well, as I continued on, I saw a goldenrod-colored flyer on a telephone pole up the street a ways, and even though I couldn't read it from that distance, it brought to mind when I had seen it the day before, and I recalled what this flyer had said: "Open Microphone Talent Competition! All welcome. At the Farthuat Hall 'Basement Cabaret'! 9:30 pm, Tuesday the 8th. Be there man!" I looked at my watch and it said 7:19 pm. And I knew it was the 8th. I thought maybe I'd go see it, but then I had an inspiration--that girl from astronomy class would be there--and I could impress her with my violin playing. "Now there's an idea!", I thought. (This damn girl--Harbaza Turn--I only talked to her a few times--but I really think I love her (besides having the hots for her).) So I continued on my merry way, and I quickly calculated how I could get home, get the violin, tune it, and get back in time for the show. Harbaza did mention that she liked classical music. And, I thought, I can play anything at all, as long as I've heard it once. Maybe some Steill, or a Mophei symphony, or perhaps a Viedden overture. The selection that I would play was not a problem. But getting there and back, to my house, was a possible problem. I considered the train, but a little quick figuring revealed that the schedules were against me and that I couldn't get back onto campus until 10:10 pm or so. I guessed that I might have gotten one of my friends to drive me, but I honestly didn't have a clue as to where anyone was, and I wasn't really very clear on who had a car on campus and who didn't. One thing was for sure--I couldn't walk. But... a bicycle? There was a bicycle leaning next to a tree by the sidewalk in front of me. With that bicycle, I could make the violin run with time to spare. But--could I just take it? I looked around, looking for anyone who might have owned the bike, but nobody was in sight. I reasoned, if I took the bike and returned it two hours later, then it couldn't really be considered stealing of any sort; it would just be a kind of "enforced borrowing". In indecision, I just stopped and started moping around the vicinity of the bike, trying to make up my mind, butterflies injected into my stomach. I kept looking around nervously, and I thought of this girl Harbaza. I thought, "Does that name mean 'florid one'? Maybe she will have sex with me if she likes my violin playing." With my resolve then set, I nonchalantly walked up to the bike, grabbed the handlebars, looked around nervously, stood it up, and started walking it towards the street. Suddenly I heard someone yell "Hey!" from behind me, and I froze in fear for a second, but then I continued walking. The shout must have come from down by the dorms, nowhere near me. I hit the street and walked the bike, trying to look as casual as possible. As I stared at the blunt incandescent focuses of light that were the streetlamps, I fantasized about what would happen if I was caught in this act of theft--maybe being beaten up or killed or something. But then I broke out of this pointless conjecture, got a running start, jumped onto the bike, and was off on a 45-minute journey home. -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- -----