Anachronistic Aphorisms

I recently read "Someone Else's Theme" from Memories of the Future by Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky, a Russian writer from the 1920s. In it a wandering homeless writer gives away philosophies, themes and aphorisms for money and food. As the story unfolds you realize how brilliant and hopeless he is, and empathy towards his situation begs more aphorisms. So...This is for Saul Straight. I hope you find some use for them.

*****
The spiral of time spun downwards towards the roots of the Methuselah tree hoping to find its origin. Sadly, there was no beginning.

*****
He stood underneath the awning out of the rain fearful of wetness and melting, but there was a hole in the canary canvas and a drip dropped on his nose. He screamed terrified knowing that he would never move again. He was a seed and this was where he would blossom. Until the porter picked his dandelion ways.

*****
Traveling was an end in and of itself although Tracey was unable to see this while in motion. When she stopped, everything died. Including her desire to live.

*****
The forgetful sunshine hazy from lazy afternoons shrouded in fog forgot to shine. All was dark. Except this young child who held a single candle under a basket. The sun said to her, "Why are you hiding your light?" And she replied, "Why are you such an ass?"

*****
Hungry from starvation and untold countless meals of water and salt sweat poured from his shaking body splayed in the middle of the busy intersection. Cars passed. Except on. It ran over him, and he was no longer hungry.

*****
The transportation agency was responsible for "ensuring a pleasant ride for all riders, including and especially tourists". So it decided to close all routes that did not have tourist riders. That left one line. And it still ran late.

*****
He hopped on his bike as the pedals spun in place motionless as if someone had stopped the stopwatch hanging around his neck. Then, God yelled, "Go!" And he fell off his bike as quickly as he had hopped on and the stopwatch actually stopped.

*****
Her treatment consisted of a few incisions, a pill or two, and a handful of wafers that did not taste dissimilar to Communion. Each morning she had one treatment and another each late afternoon. They made her feel almost moral. Until the thread snapped.

*****
The jeans ripped at the knee with black stains near the crotch hung over the chair discarded carelessly like a napkin on the ground. Its position was uncomfortable and the stains stunk. The next day it awoke in a dumpster. It couldn't tell what smelled worse. 

Share |