Tuesday, April 26, 2011

What We Pretend to Know so that We Need Not Learn

This was Mr. Neuman. Desperate and worry-some, struggling to find the next thing, the next case, the next step. In his state of disbelief that he had really no way to reach his vast earnings, Paul offered a hand to a lovely lady that he barely even knew. It was embarrassing to admit that he had no clue what she did or who she was.

Things are different now. These aren't clients, they aren't nameless faces or commodities anymore. There was a person behind each face and a feeling behind each person that lived around here. Come to think of it, in his valiant attempt to be charitable, Mr. Neuman didn't associate with much of anyone. He clung to what he knew and never attempted to really truly learn what his father wanted him to.

In his mirth Paul actually couldn't remember whether she received his room number, or if she too could only see a face rather than another person.

Shameful, even walking to a restaurant where it seems everybody is gathering Paul Neuman can't really see people. He sees things. What Mr. Neuman sees is disgusting, wretched people that were forced together for their own reasons, none of them actually similar at all. We are all differently pushed together into this place where we learn or choose not to learn from our mistakes. A miserable stripper that is just realizing, as he is, that so many of these people find misery and unhappiness, yet what's more is that they are all growing, more or less. People hate it here and no one can wait until they are finally released from a place so unenjoyable... and yet...

Paul sees something else... Paul sees those who have witnessed unspeakable things and yet their minds cannot help but find refuge in a place where they learn or do not learn, yet they welcome their sorrow along with their refuge. They see through this so-called hell and pull together to form something beautiful... different. It doesn't take much, once you cut through the swearing and the vulgarity to see that 2 friends enjoy themselves through their own means and besides... looking at himself now in the window, who is he to feel any more than they are? He might as well not even live up to his own family given name.

The restaurant was busy, but he managed out the last of his pocket change for some coffee, cheap stuff to get used to a new meager life style. Maybe it wasn't too late to learn. Maybe he might go home after all and take something back maybe he would hear back from CeilĂ­ or--. Paul Neuman almost crumbled, he saw his future pass in front of his eyes as he read an article of his father terminally ill and his lawyer making a statement. His bravado came undone a little, and Mr. Neuman's usually pleasant and peace loving face gave through to a glare at his paper and his shoulders hunched as if his coat stood up on end. This is Paul.

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