Sunday, April 17, 2005

I'm going to football camp! It's a generic "post-highschool" league, just forming. I'm to be a quarterback again. I'm not sure of my arm strength. I'm assured I was graded as "one of the best" prospects, rating maybe third in the nation. That encourages me. I'm going to football camp!

When I do show up, tentatively, one else is there. There is someone in charge who says, it's no matter. This was supposed to be a great rejuvenation of fabulous careers grounded on the shoals of misfortune (like on the rocks of poor arm strength) ! Where is everyone? There is an excuse given, which is meant to logically explain why a great opportunity is missed by everyone but me, and doesn't do so.

I remember something which might have a bearing, and then it seems utterly conclusive. I'm 62 years old this month. This is a sudden discovery of mine. You cannot go back and pick up the threads of lost youth at 62. Even if you're rich as Gatsby.

I go to work then. It's not a job I'm familiar with, but like in all my dreams I am aware it's familiar territory although it isn't. My boss is very genial but I know he's waiting for the proper emplyee relation moment to tell me he wants me to work more punctually, to show up more often, spend less time attending faux football camps. He takes time to make small talk about the job.

Here is a pretty model. The cameraman is very roughly plugging a suction device the size of a camera lens onto her face at various points. The operation seems very invasive. The skin of her cheek follows the device as he quickly unplugs his suction lens and plants it again a few inches away.

"He is taking light readings," says the boss, with some distaste. He has yet to mention the reason for our pleasant interview.

Someone marvels about the cute puppy outside. I go out into an alley (which resembles the one which ran between the gym/auditorium and high school back at my old Flatlandia alma mater) and see not a pup but a small duck. "Why, such an adorable little doggie," they swoon. I decide to withhold my opinion about the duck.

No comments: