on soldiery and unlearning
I woke up groggy, punch drunk and sleepy. I had just closed my eyes and somehow nodded off for an entire three hours. I couldn’t see well. My eyes swollen from the prior evenings tears. No pictures for me today.
We ran around getting ready, seemingly at the last minute, as we always do. I had ironed his clothes but had forgotten to buy new t-shirts. I did get a laugh watching him try on one two sizes too small. We improvised.
I stood in the crowd, cold and tired, awaiting his approach in order to film the moment. Lost in thought about job market perspectives in ten years. What would his contribution be? Would it be relevant, redundant or bordering on ridiculous such that it would be genius?
I listened to Teenage Lobotomy in one ear, keeping the other open for his name. The principal was taking individual photos with each graduate, over 400. I wondered if his face would be sore the next day.
I saw him approach the stage, took out my camera and started filming. Fifteen seconds later and as he walked back to his seat, I put both earbuds in.
Walking to my temporarily legally illegally parked car I wondered how to help him escape the college for job, job for college, ‘positions’ and ‘things’ loop.
Such pomp and circumstance alluding to freedom that is in truth a liberation to a prisoned society.
I am happy for him, and sad.
Unlearning. The painful journey to freedom.