Yeah, I started out with no idea for a plot and am going to continue that way to see how it goes. Please comment. Should I continue?
"What is the meaning of life?" Some random kid asks.
"Ah, yes," I say wisely.
"Well, what is it then?"
"How should I know? I'm not done with it." I amble off whistling. I feel the daggers in my back as the kid glares at me. Obnoxious kid. I don't even know the guy and he comes up to me and asks the meaning of life. I wonder if I look wise. I don't feel wise. I just feel philosophical. And there is a big difference. Wise people would know the meaning of life while philosophical people ponder it. How dreary to be too wise to learn anything new. I would choose philosophical any day.
I examine the books I was carrying home from the library. Easy dumb reading. A book by an author I don't give a flying cork about. Book I will read but won't like, that I only got to heighten my already high self esteem. When people say kids need higher self esteem i always giggle. Maybe most 12 year olds just don't feel adequate compared to me. And book I will look at but never read.
How did any of them manage to get published when for the most part people don't like them? Oh well. Nonetheless i was still exited about reading anything. Presently I come upon my house. We just moved there from about 4 blocks away. I think it is haunted because the reason it was sold was that the previous owner died in it. An achoholic old lady. She had died getting herself a high ball at the mini bar. My room is the creepiest. It seems she had saved up every wine bottle cork from every bottle of wine she had drunk in her whole life to make it. There was a bookshelf attaches to the walls surrounded by a curtain of corks.
I decide to climb the tree after I put the books away.
I go outside and climb the tall sycamore tree in our front yard that overhangs the sidewalk. I go up about 50ft; high enough to see the ocean. It looks gorgeous deep emerald blue, the sky looks magnificent reflected in it. I imagine what my dad, Rick's navy days surrounded by the deep blue, must have been like. Then I imagine living someplace like Arizona and only seeing it a few times in a lifetime. I would rather be like me dad. Damn Zoenys. I wonder if Arizonians realize us La Jollians call them that. I have a fleeting compassionate moment that I should feel sorry for the zonies instead of scorning them. VERY fleeting moment when I see a car driving by with an Arizona lisenceplate. Why can't they get there own beach instead of invading ours? Damn zonies. A harsh laugh escapes my lips when I see some floundering away towards the beach. Now those were TOTAL zoenies. We can just tell. I think of my Arizona cousins. I guess we all can't be born lucky with a silverware in our mouth. Maybe kids who get snow feel the same about us Californians.
I start shaking the branches of the tree to make the orange leaves fall. Just in time I notice a group of people walking under the tree. They look around perplexed. Left and right. Front and back. Down. But not up. Why do people never look up? In movies they never look up either. When I point out the beauty of some clouds my friends and family just respond "hmm" without even looking up. Maybe they think subcouncancly (if they are religious) they can't boldly look into god's domain. I feel odd being right above them without them realizing anything strange was going on. Maybe that is how god feels. I wish I could be religious. I have tried a couple times. I just can't bring myself to believe anything so ridiculous though. It must feel good to have religion. Safe. I think when we die we just disappear like we (our souls) never were. I hope and wish I am wrong. But i doubt I am.
