Reflecting on laziness, Hungarian commanders, an author’s middle name & a one armed man…

Those familiar, would know Montmorency:

And those not, should be; a dog born with more than his fair share of original sin…

527026_10151214972026041_54942606_nI was a familiar stranger once in a city of few lights past the open fridges in Electrical Appliance Retail, which glowed as cigarettes do in darkened rooms. These are reflections which inevitably lead to what I describe as: Klapka moments.

I was a student at the time— a status which allowed a certain degree of latitude with tardiness, which is all well and good since my time spend horizontal was more circumferential than to a certain degree. Sometimes it overlapped and sometimes it crossed; sometimes into a whole new day and sometimes I didn’t have to move a single muscle. This was speculative posturing, tailor-made for study, especially in front of the television: it was all about the visual learning experience.

I remember discussing the prospects of sharing such moments— a moment shared is a moment halved after all— and a bonus surely, since the other half could clearly be made up elsewhere. The idea however was dismissed as foolish— in fact the very notion was rejected so effortlessly; done so with nothing but an unimpressed twitch: I’ve seen shuffles and glances last longer. Unperturbed, I proudly informed her— the effortless shuffler— that I could sit for days without moving, but again, was greeted with another sideways look that this-time almost breached the perpendicular.

It was a subtlety that was again to be misplaced, although this time only everso briefly. I can only describe it as a moment of empathic clumsiness on my part. I made the mistake of offering to ‘lend a hand’ to a man who was struggling to retrieve a dropped wallet. It was a comment that wouldn’t have been quite so Caligulan had the man— on closer inspection, been in possession of both his arms. I don’t blame him for the stern expression he imparted, but its implying wish to take from me, that what he was sadly lacking was unmistakable. Personally, I don’t blame him.

It wasn’t an intentional blaze of cruelty— I actually felt for the chap despite feeling amused by my own lack of tact…

It was wonderfully surreal accompaniment: a side platter:

A salad bar on a day of free pizza…

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4 thoughts on “Reflecting on laziness, Hungarian commanders, an author’s middle name & a one armed man…

  1. Argus

    Dammit: you sound more like me than I do~!

    That offering a hand rang my bell, been there/done that in different ways. If you don’t get a ‘like’ it’s only because (for whatever reason) the button doesn’t always work, certainly I pressed the bugger. And now to explore further …

    Reply
    1. Just a Little Background Noise Post author

      I’ve never seen it. I know there was a bit of a hoola surrounding its pick-up earlier in the year, but I have this issue with starting things from the beginning – no exceptions really!

      Ha – these are all true stories. Most of my stories have ‘dull and uneventful’ at their centres. I just pretend it’s interesting with enthusiastic prose: a bit like that preacher dude, who gets his flock in such a frenzy he spouts cake recipes and they’re one the wiser!

      But maybe not. You’re the one letting fireworks off in your kitchen 😀

      Reply

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