French? Catalina? Italian?

Genghis was unsure. Prone to self-doubt and indecision, he was frequently unable to make up his mind, constantly going back and forth in his head over one option versus another, analyzing the possibilities and pitfalls of every single choice he made. Genghis was a man described in the best light as an over thinker. In the worst light, a victim of crippling uncertainty. The thin line between the two was akin to a string between soup cans that was pitched as a genius idea for enabling secret communications, but didn’t necessarily breed mobile accessibility.

For Genghis, every decision was just as challenging to make as the next. A choice of brown loafers or black for Thursday’s meeting, the chicken breasts being on sale when he went specifically to buy brook trout or maybe salmon, the question of whether to hop on the subway for five stops versus hail a quick cab when running late­—the result of that morning’s countless bouts of indecision—, all warranted as much thought and over analysis as the question of whether to move into a new apartment or (hold the phone) get married, something that would never happen given the amount of examination, vacillation and overall throwing of caution to the wind that would have to take place. Genghis never threw caution anywhere but in his own face.

Hell was dining out with Genghis as the very word “menu” sent shock waves of doubt to his psyche before he even arrived at the restaurant. Soup or salad? Soup was more filling, salad more nutritious. Soup sounded good, but high in sodium. The salad may have a creamy dressing though. What were the dressing options? French? Catalina? Italian? What kind of Italian? “Olive oil and herbs” Italian or “canola oil and vinegar” Italian? What’s the difference between Italian and Vinaigrette really? Maybe Blue Cheese. But the Blue Cheese could be a bad choice before the entrée… A steak or maybe pasta? The steak is forty-four dollars. But the pasta is high in carbs. Am I gonna pay for a bowl of hot noodles I could have made myself? Maybe there’s a fish special? But Blue Cheese before fish? I wonder if I need a Zantac? The doctor said to rely less on Zantac though. When should I start to do that? Is that my water? Should I be drinking water with no ice?

Today, Genghis’s inability to decide centered around one thing. The weather. One thing, that is, with many little nuanced assessments.

Susan remembered when getting on a plane was exciting, when it held the promise of a new experience, the adventure of air travel and the glamour of feeling like a jet setter. She remembered how her mother would always make her dress up for flying, how she used to get her own set of little gold wings and a tour of the cockpit, how consuming mass quantities of food, drinks and movies were the things that made her feel undeniably adult. The phrase, “I’ll have another Coke please,” emboldening her like the rally cry of the Roman legion within her soul.

Now Susan was just a girl on a bridge.

"G" is for Granule

Stew was a pool person. He did not like sand. If given the choice of pool or beach, Stew always chose pool.

In a tropical setting, at a lakeside retreat, along the rugged, rocky New England coast, Stew was to a pool as a sesame seed is to a bagel; stuck on until a force of nature shook him loose.

Lucky for Stew, he was a city dweller. The number of times he came in contact with sand on a daily basis were relegated to vacations and waterside gatherings, leaving his day-to-day life almost totally sand free. And he went to great lengths to stay sand free.

Stew avoided sandboxes like the plague they were to him. He would never be caught dead near a volleyball pit (besides, why were they always wearing bikinis when playing? Hello, you’re not at the beach.) and he always wore shoes and socks when strolling through the park for fear of any small granules making their way into his footbeds.

In Stew’s case, it wasn’t that he had anything against sand, he simply didn’t want to be bothered by it. A pool represented ultimate relaxation to Stew. Relaxation that came with an effortless, no clean up aspect that added to his ability to disengage and enjoy himself in a natural setting. The fact that pools were inherently not natural and, in most cases, filled with enough chemicals to kill a Pepperidge Farm Goldfish cracker (Stew’s preferred poolside snack) was immaterial to him. Stew loved a pool.

When poolside, Stew almost never went in the water. Herein lies the most ridiculous aspect of dear Stew.

The Great Equalizer

“What is it?” June asked the man.

“What do you think it is?” he replied. Having fielded this question before he now preferred to let the viewer do the mental work.

“A circle.”

“Yes.”

“A planet or a wheel maybe?”

“Okay.”

“A hole? A hole of nothingness?”

And here we go again. He smiled a sarcastic smile.

June’s eyes were fixed upon the piece. “A space that has no beginning and no end. Both full of something and full of nothing.” 

“That’s interesting,” he responded, checking his watch as he felt the familiar rumble of hunger move through his stomach.

“A comment about the great void. About the void that exists between perception and reality.”

“Uh huh.” The Doors of Perception, how original.

“The space wherein the material world ceases to be and everything we think we know, every possession we have, every item has no meaning and we are all back to square one, back to zero. The same. Like babies in utero with no concept of what lies ahead. Like old men just before death who know what’s behind them. Like sold out shows, out of stock shoes, empty shelves at the grocery store… The great equalizer.”

Empty shelves at the grocery store? He took a step back and gazed up at the painting.

“What is it really though?” June asked again, her mind reeling with thoughts of humanity, life and death, globalization, capitalism, society, the material world, Madonna, fingerless gloves, the lace shoelaces in her old, white high-top sneakers, groceries.

“It’s a circle,” he replied.

What's love got to do with it?

Tina was a greeter. Her job was to greet everyone who came through the door of Sal’s Midtown Audio Video with the company’s trademark opener, “Welcome to Sal’s. Don’t call it Al’s. My name is Tina. How can I help you?”

Seven times out of ten the response was, “Hey Tina, what’s love got to do with it?!” Occasionally there was a crack about needing a “private dancer,” but those were getting more rare as the consumer population aged.

When “what’s love got to do with it” was thrown at her, Tina had taken to responding, “I don’t know about love, but I do know 46-inch flat screens are on sale. You’ll get a whole lotta love with one of those.”