2003 A Beautiful Woman Excerpt – Going Forward
The weight of the foot, pulled gently up by the contraction of thousands upon thousands of minuscule microscopic little round cells of muscle, angled delicately by the concoction of curves and bone and cartilage spherically rotating in mystical angles, long tough tendons made of hardened veteran cells with eye patches and parakeets and cigars locking it all into place just to the moment where contact is made between the porous cellular plastic infrastructure smoothed with many such transactions of the bottom of a boot and the miscellaneous organic debris infinite in its composition and depth of the ground, that simple word describing all comers of oak twigs, pine twigs, porcupine carcasses ground into indifferent brown substances where they make one soul with powdered leaves, granite, limestone, and other specks of conjugated atoms in atomic formations fired in the bellies of giant lamps of nuclear helium infinitely distant in both time and space and probability. The weight of the foot is let down and the relaxed kiss of the calloused and scarred skin of the appendage is reinforced once again upon the rotting stench cloth and leather which make up together what one might call the bottom of the shoe. The whole mass of the body now swinging towards the center of the earth the bones and ligaments and flowing blood ignorant of such matters outside of itself the arm which contains all this in parallel conjunction with the leg beneath it swings forward following the trail of the flowing weight and throwing even more decidedly all of the bodily mass to which it connects itself further into this diagonal direction slightly opposed to but stealing the power of the great mass of the earth beneath it and which pulls it. Everything is now in a very precarious position all is leaning and falling forward through and above and over the leg with the arm, the slightest miscalculation could indeed spell at least a minor disaster. All is not lost. There is another. At the last possible moment it awakens from the relaxed state of muscular dreaming which up to this point had kept it in soft blooded flux and communicative reveries with all the blooded brothers who share the river of red with it that brings them all their serene oxidized and quiet life, and all together now its millions upon millions of parts in heavenly synchronicity scream and sing the song of contraction, while among their antipodes, other millions upon millions their exact copies their doppelganger reflections let loose their infinitely long hold in a gigantic sighing note of relaxation. The second, the other, pulled forward itself in the overwhelming wave of movement, rises. It is pulled upward. It recognizes the call, ancient and instinctual in its origin, it frets it not, it minds it not, it only responds in the one way given to it. It swings forward and ahead its own concoction of twining rounded bone and cartilage manufactured in unfathomable ways in dark red liquid factories in the dark heart bellies of women angling perfectly and without fail for it was still considered young even according to its archaic design it jumps ahead, foreshadowing, foreseeing, blindly beating even gravity to the chase, stealing its power and bringing it forward in a grand minimal mediocre step as if taking candy from a baby it takes motion and distance from the mother of all forces and catches the all of the mass of the interconnected rivers of blood and vines of cartilage and skeletons of bone as a light kiss of the smelly bottom of the foot soft skin and the crammed flattened leather and cloth of what one would call the bottom of the inside of a shoe hardens into a wrestling embrace which is really a prolonged and never ending argument to occupy the same longitudinal and latitudinal coordinates at the same moment in time, and their argument creates a pillar upon which Job rests as his body him carries forward, and forward, and forward. Each step a universe of action and time, a world of reaction and infinite distances untold and hardly felt by the endless multitude of microscopic parts of which make up all the inhabitants, all the habitations, all the worlds, working as one, and Job thinks of the zit on his lower right jaw, just at the point where his cheek ends and his neck begins its muscular descent.
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