THINGS I SAY TO NO-ONE IN PARTICULAR

Life, actually…

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THINGS I SAY TO NO-ONE IN PARTICULAR

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“Argh!”

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A full-throated scream echoes off the walls of grey-mortared buildings on Third Avenue North.

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“ARGH!”

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This time the scream is louder, the sound grittier.

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I hear lots of things outside the bookshop each day, so many that I tend to become only half-aware after all these years.

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“ARGH, AARRGGHH, AAARRRGGGHHH!” The voice is no longer ignorable. I have to verify that everyone is safe.

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With great protective reluctance I go to the door, open it, peer onto the street.

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“Argh!” is coming from the mouth of a rapidly-moving pedestrian who has already passed by. She rails at the invisible humid breeze.

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I am relieved that there seems to be no danger lurking. Customers and merchants are secure. Anguish resides only within the tortured walker.

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The arghs grow faint. My breathing reboots. The day goes on.

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I’ll never know what caused these particular arghs, but I do recognize them.

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They are merely amplified versions of the comments and asides with which I flavor each day.

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Little pangs that verbalize themselves as, “Besmirched! I wonder what it’s like, being smirched,” I mutter to no-one in particular. “Dang! why did that guy do that dangerous turn in the road?” Again, I’m talking to myself. Or maybe I’m hoping some eavesdropper will listen in and offer me explanation or comfort.

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My arghs may enter the world as complaints, enjoyments, critiques, cusses. But, even though I seldom commit an unadulterated scream of pain, I do shout quietly at the imperfect world. A world I would deem perfect if only it would re-form itself as some entity designed to exist solely to pamper me.

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Not going to happen.

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Thus, I just wander through life, wishfully hoping for fulfillment, realistically doing what I can to earn admission to an impossible heaven.

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Argh seems to be part of an international language. When someone ARGHs, I do get a sense of the possible meaning behind the utterance. And the utterer understands me for a split second also.

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Maybe this Cro-Magnon argh language is what we will eventually adopt in order to wade through the increasingly cluttered and disassembled showers of words and images thrown at us each day.

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Argh!

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There, I said it again.

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I feel better already

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 © 2025 A.D. by Jim Reed