The Memory Book(4)
FUTURE SAM
? goes by “Sam” or “Samantha”
? eats only nuts and berries
? wears fashionable glasses (or maybe contacts?) ? wears tailored outfits, only in solid neutrals, blue, or black ? laughs only on occasion and always in a low register ? gets cocktails every week with group of witty, professionally competent women ? reads the New York Times in bed in a soft white robe ? is recognized by people on the street and told that her op-ed on international development changed their life
CURRENT SAMMIE
? goes by “Sammie” because no one will adjust to addressing her as Sam—except for Davy, but with lisp it sounds like “Tham”
? eats anything put in front of her, including fake fruit by accident at a church function ? glasses are okay, just way too “gold” and “huge” and possibly disco ? wears whatever free school-function T-shirts haven’t been visibly slobbered on by one of the smaller organisms in the house ? laughs at SpongeBob and fart jokes even when stupid people make them (I can’t help it, it’s actually so funny) ? closest female friend is Maddie, but I’m not sure if we’re really friends or just that she and I spend so much time in the government classroom that we are friends by proxy, and between you and me, her ego is way too off the charts ? reads the New York Times at Lou’s when other people throw it out because Mom and Dad refuse to pay for it ? gets high fives from debate team, so at least that’s a start
WHAT MRS. TOWNSEND WAS PROBABLY LOOKING AT
From the NPC Wikipedia page: Neurological signs and symptoms include cerebellar ataxia (unsteady walking with uncoordinated limb movements), dysarthria (slurred speech), dysphagia (difficulty in swallowing), tremor, epilepsy (both partial and generalized), vertical supranuclear palsy (upgaze palsy, downgaze palsy, saccadic palsy or paralysis), sleep inversion, gelastic cataplexy (sudden loss of muscle tone or drop attacks), dystonia (abnormal movements or postures caused by contraction of agonist and antagonist muscles across joints); most commonly begins with turning of one foot when walking (action dystonia) and may spread to become generalized, spasticity (velocity-dependent increase in muscle tone), hypotonia, ptosis (drooping of the upper eyelid), microcephaly (abnormally small head), psychosis, progressive dementia, progressive hearing loss, bipolar disorder, major and psychotic depression; can include hallucinations, delusions, mutism, or stupor.
From Wikipedia, after I edited the NPC page: Your shit is f*cked.
(Was taken down shortly after and all my Wiki editing privileges were suspended, but it was worth it.)
WHITE MALE PHILOSOPHERS WHO (BASED ON THEIR PORTRAITS) I/WE WOULD MAKE OUT WITH
? S?ren Kierkegaard: those lips
? René Descartes: I’ve never said no to a man with long hair
? Ludwig Wittgenstein: the coiffe, the straight nose, the sunken, knowing eyes
? Socrates: that beard though
SHAH DOLCE VITA
When I told you that this wouldn’t be feelingsy, I lied. You probably knew that, Future Sam, but maybe you’ve been able to put a lid on them by the time you read this.
I want Stuart Shah. I want Stuart Shah so bad.
Stuart Shah (proper noun, person): Oh, screw it, I’ll just tell you everything.
Picture this: It’s two years ago. As a critique of capitalism, you have taken to wearing a lot of vintage (fine, used) clothing, mostly your dad’s oversize T-shirts, cutoffs, and your mom’s gardening clogs that you took without permission. You are reading a lot of National Geographic articles about how the ice caps are melting and polar bears are being pushed from their usual habitats, and watching a lot of your mom’s old DVDs of The West Wing. On this particular day, Ms. Cigler (then your Advanced Sophomore English teacher) has asked you to complete the short-answer questions at the end of a Faulkner story, “A Rose for Emily,” about an old lady who sleeps with her dead husband’s corpse. Anyway.
Suddenly, a figure passes by your desk. This person has that smell like they have just been outside, you know what I mean? It’s a combination of sweat and humid air and grass and dirt, and when you’ve been inside air-conditioning all day, you can tell from just one whiff they’ve been outside doing something.
You look up and you see it is Stuart Shah.
You have seen Stuart around before—he’s a senior while you’re a sophomore, one of those kids who’s always eating a sandwich while walking, on his way to the next thing. He’s tall and has an old-fashioned, guy-in-the-fifties haircut and dark, wet eyes like two river stones. It appears that he wears the same thing every day, just like you, except he wears a black T-shirt and black jeans and he looks amazing. He’s friends with everyone and no one in particular. He played Hamlet in the spring play.
Now he’s bending down next to Ms. Cigler, telling her something in a low voice. The corners of his lips turn up in a smile while he’s talking. You watch his long fingers twitch from where they prop up his lean arms on the desk.
Ms. Cigler gasps and claps a hand over her mouth. The class looks up from their work. Stuart straightens and folds his arms, eyes on his feet with a shy, half smile still on his face.
“Can I tell them?” she asks, glancing up at him.
Stuart shrugs, looking up at the class, and then at you, for some reason.