scrytch: the sum of our arrogance

by Darren Bauler

Date: Sun, 5 May 1996 13:57:43 -0500 (CDT)

Had i not gone to the student union today, this would have been the tenth year i had gone without using a blue pen. When i was thirteen and in junior high, my mother used to buy school supplies for my brother, my sister and i, thinking little of appropriate styles for social-strata conscious children and instead scoping out sales. You shop for three kids who do little more than suck, break merchandise and beg for quarters and you'd do the same. that year, however, i officially decided that blue pens were for saps, that there was a certain nobility and serious-mindedness i was looking for which only black ink could offer. so my little brother got stuck with the blue pens that year (which he promptly began dismaltling in order to make pen-cap guns) and i made a concerted effort to never go with anything but black. as the years went on, it occasionally became a hassle -- once, in a doctor's office, i haad to walk to the gift shop and buy my own pen rather than use the blue one offered to sign in with -- but it seemed important, and once i got into the habit, it was easier than you'd think.

Until earlier today, at least, when i went to the union to get me some ephedrine and m+ms.

I took my loot up to the cashier, looking at the ground like i usually do, and it wasn't until i heard him ask for my student id (you can charge things at the union on yr student id here at iowa, see). i look up and who should i see. aw shit. it's Harry the Dairyman.

"Darren! What's the word?"

"Johannesberg?"

"Thunderbird! At least that's the word for today, but don't rat me out, I just got this job on temp. for two weeks until i can hook back up with the circus. M+Ms and eph? what, is it finals?"

"Bascially. And I don't think I should be getting much sleep for the next week, so, y'know..."

"Coolio. Okay, that comes to six dollars and sixty...", reached down and grabbed a penny for the dish, "...five cents. Sign the receipt, uh, here please?"

He handed me a blue pen, and I swear, I just bet he did it on purpose.

"Just a sec, let me get a pen outta my backpack, it's right over there on the rack."

"Why? Got a pen right here, just put your Herbie Hancock right here and we'll have a completed transaction...oh. You're not still doing that pen thing, areya?"

"Yeah."

"It's stupid, 'swhat it is."

"It's an idiosyncracy, that's all."

"No, Darren, it's one of those things people do when they don't have any real personality and think annoying, clever quirks are a shortcut to having a soul."

"Yeah, and fuck you anyway."

I was hung over -- i saw the new duncan imperials the night before and drank and drank and drank and then i drank and later on i think i drank and then to top it off i drank -- and it was the wittiest retort i could come up with.

"That's quite clever. I see you've had some college."

"It's just something I do, you don't have to like it."

"Listen, you're the one keeping me from doing my job, okay, so just do whatever it is you gotta do to make you feel like you're interesting and get the fuck outta my store, okay?"

By this time we had become something of a spectacle, with finals-haggard sorority girls with those weird-ass pastel colored things in their hair shuffling over to the registers on the other side of the building. I didn't particularly care; May is supposedly Solve Problems Through Conflict And Violence Month and I was ready to rumble by this point.

"I refuse to take personal criticism from...you. You fucking clown."

"See, you're doing it, like you always do, you're trying to shift the topic away from your boring pedestrian fucked-upness. That's why you lie all the time, and do all that other stupid crap you do."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, whatever, I know. Would you just please use the blue pen already?"

And I did. I used the blue pen. And it doesn't even bother me so much that I did use it, I don't even care, but it's what i said when i was writing my name on the receipt that still bugs me.

"Fuck you. I'm a good person."

And as i grabbed my bag and walked away, Harry the Dairyman said "You're only a good person insofar as it gives you an excuse to hide from people..." and i was out in the hall and it grew fainter, "a reason not to do the sloppy groping real personal things people should do..." and i could barely hear and was mad that i was trying so hard to listen, "...the sum of your fucking arrogance...", and the rest was lost in the sea of union chatter.

I find myself filling in the gaps, even now.