Subtitle

A CONFLUENCE OF DAYS, WEEKS AND YEARS

by Jonathan Vold

Friday, January 22

Pitch, Part 1

(from a college notebook)

—I don’t want no characters. I’m not going to have any.

—What do you mean? You’ve got to have characters.

—No I don’t. I don’t want any. I want to be alone.

—What are you going to do then? You can’t just sit there.

—Yes I can. Why can’t I?

—You’ve got to have a plot. You need action.

—No. Who’s writing this thing anyway?

—What about a title?

—What about it?

—Nothing. Forget it.


—Exactly. I’m not going to have a setting either. And no diction and no conflict and no theme.

—What about an audience? You’re not going to have an audience either.

—Yes. Yes I will.

—No, no you’re not. You know, with no plot you never could call this, this whatever it is, a story. And now if you say there’s no theme, then you can’t really call it anything.

—I don’t want to call it anything. You’re the one trying to call it something.

—Okay, never mind. But the point is, who’s going to care? Who’s going to give a shit? If it won’t have any substance why should anyone bother.

—I don’t want substance. I especially don’t want the shit.

—Right. But you want an audience. You just said that you even expect one.

—That’s right. But let me tell you something. Maybe this will make you see. Last Tuesday I was taking a walk through the park. It was noon and I saw this old bum curled up on the edge of the sidewalk, eyes closed, not doing anything. And I stared at him for a little while. He didn’t move. Flies landed on him and he didn’t brush them away. He might have been dead.

—Maybe he was.

—I don’t know. But I stood there and stared at him for I don’t know how long and he never did move. He was positioned in such a way that I couldn’t tell whether he was breathing or not. I think he was alive though. I’m pretty sure he had some sort of soul.

—But what’s the point?

—Maybe there is none.

—So what are you trying to say?

—I’m not trying to say anything. I’m just saying it, there was a bum in the park and I happened to notice him and I think he had a soul.

—And for that you think you’ll have an audience.

—Hey look. Someone will notice this some day and maybe even several people will stop and stare and eventually someone will tell somebody else, like I just told you. They’ll even come up with the standard speculations: he looks dead, but I think he’s alive. He’s just a bum, but what was he yesterday and what will he be tomorrow? Who knows? Who cares? Maybe it’s a mental illness, or maybe it’s a statement of choice ...or maybe he really is dead. He’s motionless, but he’s got a soul. People will wonder, I promise. Wait and see.

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