This is an easy one. What’s better: the date you plan and dress for, for which you make and confirm and reconfirm dinner reservations; the meal at the restaurant you’ve never been to and aren’t sure you’ll like, or he’ll like, but which you’ve been assured by women who don’t know him but who know men like him is the right choice for the guy you’ve staked out; the show you think your date would choose, based on what little you’ve been able to glean from the few small facts at your command plus considerable conjecture? Or the accidental thrill of a chance encounter with a friendly face through a revolving door at the airport one moment before your plane takes off toward a place you know only too well. For the guy it’s the encounter; for the girl it’s the plan.
What’s better? The masterpiece on tour, impeccably curated and catalogued for art-historical significance, deconstructed, virtually invisible, available only by appointment? Or a bold curve drawn in the dirt with the point of a shovel by a landscaper with a certain facility.
The 6-piece playground kit, its corners sanded, planted in the park in its box of chips, its thick irresistible primary colors engineered by play scientists? Or a tree that’s fallen into the pond, whose trunk makes a bridge, whose roots still smell of lightning strike and anthills. For the kids it’s the treefall; for their dads it’s the treefall, too; the moms are still thinking about that date. Maybe we could take in a museum, they think, and not look at the art, just the frames. Or the window frames. Or out the windows. How is that different from staying home together and staring out the window? except that he won’t encounter anyone else at home.
Copyright ©1997 David Hodges
Very Short Novels 
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November 7, 2006 at 5:21 am
kimtelas
Lightning on Tour
For me the encounter in the revolving door carries as much weight as careful planning for something special. Do I get to be a girl and like both? Hmmm. I give you special kudos for being the king of the longest sentence with no run-ons David!
I am for the bold curve myself. Art is what we are and it is not limited too artifactification. (I know, I had to invent a word again.) Where did art begin? In the curve, in the line, in the engagement of emotion, thought, thus, form. My niece, Olivia, was painting for two hours at a time when she was two years old. The boldest, most beautiful artwork in my home is by my nephew, Elijah, which I received for my 40th birthday; I asked for art! It is signed: To Ant Kim From Eli. What more could an art connoisseur want?
I also have a selective method for museum gazing: I walk around and pick one or two then plant myself. I also pick the one that evokes my life force, Eros, the energy that says create, live, and be! I was told that was a peculiar approach but it works for me!
Hmm. When I was 12 we moved from Houston, TX to Maine. In the suburbs of Houston, we had a small backyard with HUGE bushes. I would go into them and create a kitchen and cook mudlicious dishes. I don’t remember distinctive specifics, I remember magic. We camped when I was still 6 months old, they carried me on their backs for hiking. As I aged, I loved this one place at a campground we frequented. I have pictures. A huge sand hill with trees and their roots showing. You could sit on these roots!
In Maine we lived in an old farmhouse with a hand pump, an outhouse and a modicum some electricity. (This slowly changed over time, we did modernize) The photos of us bathing in the square metal tub are black and white, and amazing. The house was great, the woods were better. There was a wild grape arbor, a brook, and a slab a granite against a boulder that was my reading spot, my granite couch. Oh! And old dumps where you could hunt for treasures! I believe these saved my life for their magic and lightning.
Thank you David,
Thank you, Kim, for those heartfelt and evocative memories. Obviously, my “rules” apply to nobody, but you, in particular, may be whichever gender suits you, whenever it suits you.
–David
November 7, 2006 at 4:48 pm
kimtelas
The memories came as a result of your wonderful mini-bini novel. Oh cool, I get to be whoever I am. As it is said: Most Excellent.
I love your writing David. I also love your professional page. I started on the Saint/Diary story but realized how involved I was getting and it was 121:30 AM. I had to go to my sleep meditation!
Happy Tuesday,
Kim