The Man on the Wall has features in common with the practice buddy I call Glenlivet (he's smooth as scotch). A roundness of cheek, a beautiful smile. Perfect posture, a certain self-contained air. He hangs out on the west end of my apartment.
On the east end of the apartment, a bookshelf prevents me from drawing his brother. Instead, on the second shelf from the top, there is the novel Q .* Q looks a bit like The Man on the Wall, a bit more like Glenlivet: all head, no hair. Glenlivet has a touch of beard in the center of his chin, which The Man on the Wall lacks. But Q has it covered.
The Man on the Wall stands about six feet tall. There’s a good reason for this. I tend to sag in the shoulders and chin; to maintain eye contact with him, I must stay lifted. Q is a bit shorter, and there’s good reason for this, too: I don’t want to go to the trouble of emptying the shelves and adjusting their height. Q is dressed for the tango: flashy yet tasteful in red, black and gold. He stands on the shelf just left of midway, between Eudora Welty and a novel about a nun.** Eudora leans heavily against him, the nun leans away.
Sometimes as I practice walking, I pretend The Man on the Wall is Glenlivet. He is wowed, he thinks I’m amazing. I can see it in his smile. He cannot believe I have learned to walk! Just then I fall into the sofa.
The Man on the Wall never misses a beat. He is still wowed, he still thinks I’m amazing. I believe my persistence impresses him. The Man on the Wall cannot believe I am getting up yet again. He smiles at me. I smile back. One day, I promise him, we will be dancing.
*Q (intellectual history in a rollicking wartime novel by Luther Blissett, rating: ****)
**The novel about a nun: Mariette in Ecstasy by Ron Hansen, "the novel's achingly gorgeous prose is the true miracle here" (Mary Park)
On the east end of the apartment, a bookshelf prevents me from drawing his brother. Instead, on the second shelf from the top, there is the novel Q .* Q looks a bit like The Man on the Wall, a bit more like Glenlivet: all head, no hair. Glenlivet has a touch of beard in the center of his chin, which The Man on the Wall lacks. But Q has it covered.
The Man on the Wall stands about six feet tall. There’s a good reason for this. I tend to sag in the shoulders and chin; to maintain eye contact with him, I must stay lifted. Q is a bit shorter, and there’s good reason for this, too: I don’t want to go to the trouble of emptying the shelves and adjusting their height. Q is dressed for the tango: flashy yet tasteful in red, black and gold. He stands on the shelf just left of midway, between Eudora Welty and a novel about a nun.** Eudora leans heavily against him, the nun leans away.
Sometimes as I practice walking, I pretend The Man on the Wall is Glenlivet. He is wowed, he thinks I’m amazing. I can see it in his smile. He cannot believe I have learned to walk! Just then I fall into the sofa.
The Man on the Wall never misses a beat. He is still wowed, he still thinks I’m amazing. I believe my persistence impresses him. The Man on the Wall cannot believe I am getting up yet again. He smiles at me. I smile back. One day, I promise him, we will be dancing.
*Q (intellectual history in a rollicking wartime novel by Luther Blissett, rating: ****)
**The novel about a nun: Mariette in Ecstasy by Ron Hansen, "the novel's achingly gorgeous prose is the true miracle here" (Mary Park)
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