Thursday, August 5, 2010


busticate\ BUHS-ti-keyt \, verb; 
To break into pieces.

It went into the wall and shattered. 

Or rather I imagine it shattering - for effect. When you throw something at a wall, you want it to break and scatter into a million pieces, large and small, but flying away from each other at unimaginable speeds. So that you know you'll never be able to put any of it back together. When you throw something against a wall, you want that to be final. So when all it did was slide to the floor, I only felt more angry. Just one more thing to be disappointed in. Nothing happens the way you want it to. You aren't even in control of your own destruction.

I consider picking it up again, returning to the same position, a certain distance from the wall and having another go at it, but that would have required further energy when I had already expended it all. There was none left for another toss. I had had my chance to cause an explosion.

Acme. I thought of Wile E. Coyote. Now those were some explosions - even if he did miss the intended mark, at least he got to see the fire, the smoke, feel the ground shake. Know at least he had done that much. The bird may have gotten away but the earth knew he was there. He covered the sun, created as much heat, blew something up. Such things are easier accomplished in cartoons. In cartoons, when something or someone was thrown at a wall, there was an almighty crash. Or a satisfying sluggish slide against the vertical surface, ending in a plop to the floor.

As if in a memory, you lean against the far one opposite and allow your body to slink into position and do the real life version. This you can do. This appropriately matches the energy left inside of you and the mood its absence has left behind. Your butt lands to the ground and your curved spine rubs its knuckles against the wall and it feels right. Finally, something feels right.