Small Talk

‘SMALL TALK’

           A country-western themed restaurant, two young men sit across from one another, the conversation well underway…

           “It’s kind of like, Yin and Yang, ya know what I mean?”

           “Sure, I think so.”

           “Like, complementary or something. We fill each other’s gaps. Compensate for each other.” He sipped hard on his cola.

           “Sure, that makes sense.” His friend sipped hard on his margarita.

           “You know what it’s like? It’s like, the relationship between a Leo and an Aries. See, cuz’ Aries is controlling and loyal, but Leo is free spirited and untamable, but as long as they constantly support each other it’ll work.”

           “Leo and Aries?” His friend raised an eyebrow.

           “Yeah, you know, the astrological signs; Leo and Aries.”

           “Well, that doesn’t work then.”

           “Why not?”

           “Those are both fire signs, naturally volatile. I don’t know much about this stuff, but I know that.”

           “Yeah, but they’re a good match.”

           “Says who?”

           “Well, her for starters…” His friend nodded as if it all made sense now “…not to mention the internet.”

           His friend conceded with a shrug of the shoulders, “I mean, sure they might be a good match, but it’s not like Yin and Yang. Not even close.”

           “I wouldn’t say it’s not even close.”

           “Well, I would and I am. It’s not close. Yin and Yang is the masculine and the feminine. Chaos and order. They are two complete opposites. On one hand they can’t exist without each other, and on the other they can’t exist simultaneously either, not in a stable way anyway. The idea of harmony between them is one of constant struggle and competition for superiority.”

           “Well, me and her definitely have the battle for supremacy down. Still, you get what I mean. It’s a cyclical relationship, give and take. What would you say is the astrological equivalent to Yin and Yang, then?”

           “Like I said I don’t know much about this stuff, but I guess it would have to be a water and a fire sign. So, Leo and… something else. But, frankly, I don’t know if there’s any parallel relationship to chaos and order.”

           “Right.” He sat for a moment “And which one is which?”

           “What do you mean?”

           “Which one’s Yin and which one’s Yang? Chaos or order? And which one is intended to be masculine or feminine?”

           “The fuck if I know.” His friend sipped hard again, neither knew what to say “I don’t know much about Japanese culture outside of anime and samurais. I definitely don’t know their views on gender.”

           “It’s a masculine culture.” He waved down the waitress, out of earshot, he shook his near empty cola, More please. “Somewhat misogynistic, at times.”

           “Every culture is a masculine culture.” His friend replied flatly.

           “Well…” He stopped himself, trying to think of a counterpoint “I guess you’re right.”

           “Except maybe the Amazons.” His friend conceded, unprovoked.

           “No, the Amazons almost certainly weren’t real. In fact, they were probably a myth constructed by the Greeks, one of the most masculine cultures in history, depicting their fear of the asexual feminine.”

           “There’s some tribe somewhere though, isn’t there?” His friend asked.

           “Tribe?” His brow raised.

           “Of all women, or at least, where the women are in charge.”

           “I have no idea.” He admitted.

           The conversation stalled, they returned to the point at hand.

           “So, you guys are like Yin and Yang or maybe Leo and Aries…”

           He sighed; the waitress filled his cola. “Thank you.”

           “Anything for you, sir?” She beamed a polite smile.

           “Yes please, another Margarita. Thanks.”

           She strutted away with a professional politeness. Each man watched her walk away, watched the way her hips swayed, before turning back to the conversation.

           “Yeah. Well, I guess Leo and Aries is a better comparison. Seeing as how we actually are a Leo and Aries.”

           “Oh.” His friend fiddled with the silverware. “Do you buy into that sign stuff?”

           “Not really. I mean it’s just some shit she used to talk about. Looked into it, some of its sort of interesting.”

           “Yeah, I guess so.” His friend sounded unconvinced.

           “How ‘bout you? You buy into any of it.”

           As if surprised by the question, his friend’s eyes opened wide.

           “Fuck no. It’s a load of shit.”

           “Yeah, yeah I know. You’re probably right. Still, some of its kind of crazy. Interesting, I mean.”

           “Sure, I guess.”

           “I mean, how they peg down your personality so well. Just based on your sign, ya know?”

           “No, fuck that.”

           “What? Why?”

           “Anyone can just write general characteristics that apply to everyone and then say that it describes you. It doesn’t make them clever.”

           “Yeah, but sometimes it’s really fucking accurate.”

           “I thought you said you didn’t buy into that shit.”

           “I don’t, I’m just saying. Sometimes it’s kinda creepy.”

           “Creepy or not, its bullshit.”

                            “Whatever.”

It was quiet. He refused to drop it there.

           “What’s so creepy about it?”

           “I already said, how accurate it can be.”

           “Okay so, how did it describe you?”

           He shrugged his shoulders, another sigh, a quick sip of his cola.

“I don’t know. Confident, outgoing, a leader of sorts. In danger of being a bit egotistical though.”

He laughed modestly; his friend joined him.

“That’s pretty accurate, I guess. But it all sounds circumstantial. Nobody’s confident and outgoing all the time. Not even you.”

He nodded, “I’d say you’re right.”

“I just can’t trust anything that doesn’t have real science backing it. That spiritual shit just always sounds half-baked to me.”

A long sip of cola.

“I get that. Problem is that science can be so fucking slow. Not to mention, it can be wrong.”

“Science isn’t wrong, people are.” He pointed an authoritative finger.

“Just a bunch of over evolved monkeys with too much tech.” He looked across the table knowingly. They both smiled and took another quiet sip.

The waitress returned and placed their entrees in front of each of them.

“Thank you.”

“Thanks.”

           “Not a problem! Let me know if you two need anything.”

           She walked off; each took another glance at her swaying hips. This glance was shorter than the first, the second one always was.

           “It’s sort of like blackholes.” He started up again.

           “What about them?”

           “Science can’t really explain them- or we can’t…yet.”

           “Dead stars, collapsing with a gravitational force so strong that light itself can’t escape. What’s not to get?”

           His friend spoke reductively, like someone looking to get on with his meal.

           “I mean, sure. They can tell you the what, to a degree.” He countered “But the why or the how is still completely unknown. Plus, gravity itself is still a mystery. They understand there’s an attraction that runs relative to the mass of the objects, but no clue why that would be the case. Any theory on the why is pure conjecture that borders on the irrational or supernatural. They’re all ‘half-baked.’”

           “Well, it aint magic. One day we’ll figure it out.”

           “And like anything, it will take constant trial and error and countless bodies. Great mind on top of great mind; until there is no more wonder in the world. No more unknown to explore or to discover. ‘There will come a point where the line between magic and science is so thin it’s imperceptible.’ Or however-the-fuck the line goes.”

           He sipped his margarita before replying.

           “To a sailor from 1800 we would already have crossed that line.” He began tentatively. “I think that theory only holds true in hindsight. To anyone in the moment, the technology at hand will be completely lost on them. I think our imagination will always outpace our scientific understanding. When we cross over invisible barriers into new frontiers, our imagination will create entirely new ones. There will always be looking ahead and imagining new possibilities. The real horror isn’t when our fiction becomes their fact, but what their fiction will be when it does. I think it needs to be that way. The essence of science is progress. If we ever reached a point in the present where we were completely content scientifically or unable to imagine anything greater, science would stagnate and progress itself would die.”

He nodded; he had nothing to add. Another stall, a quick and quiet meal. They had reached the stars and attempted to move beyond them. They were unequipped to do so, their imagination too limited, they fell back to reality. He decided to ground the conversation.

           “How are you doing by the way? What’s the plan?”

           He went to answer but was at a loss. He sipped hard on his cola and twiddled his thumbs, his eyes searching the ceiling for a moment.

           “I’m fine. I…uh… had a good conversation with my family recently. I’ve told a couple people, I think… being one of my best friends, I should tell you too. I… uh… I struggle with depression. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know the clinical term and I don’t know the details, it’s just sometimes I get really low, like really fucking low, too low. Ya know? I just feel useless and aimless and like there isn’t a single thing about me that’s worth caring about.” He laughed nervously, his friend nodded. “I don’t wanna sound like I’m bitching… ya know? I have a good family, I’ve only known a little bit of hardship in my life, not near enough where I feel entitled to be a pussy about it. It’s just that sometimes… sometimes I just break down. I think about shit, simple shit, a time and a place when I was younger. They aren’t happy memories, I was no happier then than I am now. They’re just images in my head that feel meaningful for some reason, even though I can’t see the meaning no matter how hard I try. I feel old, ya know? Older than I have any right to feel. Older than everyone around me, like I’m standing here waiting for everyone else to catch up. And even though I’m fucking exhausted, so tired I could just fall flat on my face, I still can’t fucking sleep at night. I’m just haunted, by images and by ideas that don’t even feel like they’re my own.”

           He laughed, there were no tears welling in his eyes, no tremble in his voice, just a dryness to his words which spoke more to a deep sincerity than sadness. He realized in subdued horror that he had committed the ultimate sin of modern friendship; he had been honest. He wished he could take it back, just talk about black holes, the history of early hominids, or maybe the state of independent film making.

           “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to ramble.”

           “No, it’s okay.” He assured him. “I don’t mind.”

           His words were soft and caring. Each felt a weight being lifted. Beneath that weight was something meaningful, something personal, something human. The black holes could wait, they- and the questions surrounding them- would still be there when they were finished.

           “You know the weirdest part?” His friend gestured for him to continue. “I don’t think I’ll ever be happy.” He said with a smile. “I don’t think anything in the world could fix me. Not even my dreams and not even her. But even if I could be fixed, even if I could be happy, I’m not sure I’d want that. Sometimes I think maybe I’m this ugly for a reason. Maybe out of all this ugliness something beautiful can come to be. But who-the-fuck knows?”

           It was quiet. They both took long sips on their drinks. There was no catharsis, no definitive answer, only a confession and that was all he intended it to be. A light silence enveloped each of them, neither was thinking of what to say next. They each sat, consumed by the elusive meaning, consumed by the moment.