My 2006 NaNoWriMo novel. Woo! Note: since I am posting as I go along, the storyline is backwards. To read this, start from the oldest post and read to the newest.

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Location: Los Angeles, United States

I am an awkward, stubborn, slightly insane woman who would rather talk Plato than Prada, rather watch Frank Capra than Carrie Bradshaw, and rather listen to Norse myths sung in Icelandic than anything currently on the radio. Yeah. Told you I was weird.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Chapter 13

November 1st

Dear Stephanie;

I wanted to apologize for my conduct in class at the beginning of the semester. Your question was legitimate and it really mattered to you. Instead of really thinking about the ideas you brought up, I mocked them, and in the end, mocked you as well.

I wanted to let you know that I am sorry for how I acted. The greatest intellect in the world would have no excuse for such bad manners, and I certainly don’t. I still don’t know what’s true on the whole subject, but I’ve been thinking about your question ever since you asked it.

I hope you can forgive me for my boorishness, and continue asking questions. I’m very sorry.

Signed, Jason Slocum.

Journal Entry November 1st

Is a book more important than a person? I still think a book may be more important than the collected works of an individual’s life; pretty much any canto of the Inferno is more important than anything I’ve ever done.

But more important than the person? I don’t know. I haven’t told anyone else what I was thinking about when James laughed. In fact, I still don’t believe it myself, and I’m the one who thought it in the first place.

But…What if it was in some way real? Or, not real per se, but true? What if there was something about James that was adventurous, and that this would be true about him whether he ever went to Timbuktu or not?

And the crowd? Well…I don’t know. If every person simply was something, or someone grand…maybe it would look a little bit like that.

So does the crowd exist? Is there something grand out there in the humdrum people sitting beside me in morning traffic? In the wino on the bus? In Angie and Stephanie, in Hannah and Erin, in James and Fr. Timothy? In the telemarkter whose bored voice interrupts my dinner?

If, and I do mean IF, there was…maybe that something would be more important than one of the great ideas or books. Maybe.

Angie picked me up at 7:30 that Saturday morning, and we headed east towards Our Lady again. “Jason, I’m sorry, but I can’t go out to where I was planning to take you today. Do you mind if we wait a few weeks?”

“Oh! No, that’s ok, I think I like the idea of every few weeks better than every week anyway. I need to sleep in at least one morning a week.”

“Ha! Ok, great, that’ll give me more time to figure out why I’m taking you where I am, too. I hope you’ll still be able to make it to morning mass, though. You can always come back to sleep.”

“Nyeh….maybe. Once I’m up it’s generally easier to just stay awake though.”

“True enough. But you know, I have friends who can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, not matter what time it is. I think I envy them.”

I laughed and agreed. This time, we took Bastanchury road all the way to Kramer; I couldn’t help but look out the window at the hills, the mountains, and the houses being lit by the sun. The Kingdom of Heaven? No. But maybe a home of souls. And as such, to be respected.


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