skonen_blades

Real Life:

Are there two tribes of people?

I see vacancy in a lot of eyes that I envy sometimes. But not really. Just wistfully.

Am I just more sensitive to the input of the world? Is my experience what everybody experiences but doesn’t talk about? When I walk down busy streets and I see people doing things that I would never ever do and act in ways that I would never act, I wonder.

I heard recently that there was an overlap of the homo sapiens and the Neanderthals. That they mated. That our race might have two strains running through it.

I see that some people lack the capability for introspection and self-correction. The concept that they might be wrong about their beliefs is foreign to them and will never cross their minds. It makes me think that if I didn't question myself, that I wouldn't push forward or ever change. That maybe doubt is what leads us to being more than we were, to being human.

I wonder about nature versus nurture. The origins of our race are lost to supposition and best guesses.

Like the etymology of slang terms.

I also remember the Germans putting forth "concrete proof" that the shape of a Jew’s skull proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were lower on the evolutionary scale than an Aryan.

That makes me feel like the closer I get to feeling like there are two kinds of people in the world or that some people are better than others, the more I feel like a Nazi.

My brother had a dream where he and I were super heroes. We were in the Hall of Justice with the other heroes. They were in a circle with their hands in the middle making a ‘circle of power’ or something like that to activate their powers in a true ‘Avengers Assemble!’ battle cry before they fought the bad guys. My brother didn’t feel like joining in and I was trying to convince him to do it. He said that I convinced him to do it in the end.

Just the thought of him having this dream brings tears to my eyes.



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I don’t even know where to begin.

I guess I could start by saying that they were twins. Tall twins. One was a boy and one was a girl. Although with the long blonde hair they both had, you’d be hard pressed to know what sex they were let alone who was who. Unless they were speaking.

Allan and Stacy Grosvenors. Thirteen years old. Both just over six feet tall and still growing. Thin to a point of sharpness.

It was hard to tell exactly who held the power in their relationship. I sat behind them in math class. One time I saw both of their heads snap up at the same time when they both knew the answer to the question that the teacher had just asked. It was eerie. It was like they were the same person. It happened a lot. If you asked them a question at the same time, they’d tilt their heads to the left in exactly the same way before one of them answered.

Allan did all the talking. Before he spoke, though, he’d always look at Stacy like he was looking for some sort of invisible permission. Nothing perceptible would happen on her face. Allan would then start speaking with confidence and aplomb in that beautiful already-so-deep voice of his. He’d either give you an answer or cleverly avoid the question according to whatever psychic report he’d received from Stacy.

They received straight A’s in all the classes they attended together. Their grades varied more in the classes they attended apart but never anything less than a B minus.

If you saw one of them alone, it seemed like they were still connected, still communicating. They had a look on their face like they were listening to music even though they had no buds in their ears.

You could tell that when the changes that would make them into a woman and a man actually got here that they would flower into beings both exotic and beautiful. Allan was staring to show a flair for diving and Stacy was getting good at gymnastics despite her height. Their grade point average was very good. Stacy’s written word was as eloquent as Allan’s speech.

I had come to think of them as unofficial mascots of the small town we lived in. No, mascot sounds too cheap. What I’m trying to say is that they made this town special. They made this town unique. You just knew they would be respected semi-celebrities one day and that this town would be looked on a little better for having produced them.

All this is what made the tragedy that much harder to bear.




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