They walked to the wall in the chill of Fall when leaves twist under paw and boot. Jack and Falima and his friend Ashley moved along the pavement in deliberate assortments of scarf and glove, belt and shoe, aspiring to become the lead characters of their young professional sitcoms. Jack was prone to dramatizing his life, to make it seem more attractive for followers, whereas Falima walked in an unconscious replication of actresses on Sex and The City, Orange is the New Black, and Friends. Ashley, who had thrown out her television, instead spoke with mirroring intonations of professors she liked, with misplaced italics and a tone that flipped up in the end.
This art reminds me of the layers of identity, and especially, one could say, the illusory nature of being without layers as humans, that the harassing and asking for harassment between men and women is natural?
This art reminds me of an alligator.
Jack’s joke went over well with Falima, whose laughter insulted Ashley, as the conversation spiraled away from what she perceived as capital-m-Meaningful, into a place of jokes, a layer which was, to her, far from important words.
What I’m trying to say, Jacky boy, is the fact that the alligator is split up, into parts, reminds me how we’re told to believe that women are this way and men way are all that, which should be insulting to men, that they’re predictable idiots, without depth.
Beer and pizza, said Jack.
Don’t forget the sex, said Falima.
Electric greens of the alligators’ skin contrasted with the graying sky and the flakes of snow. Colours drew their attention and words stopped, for a moment, as they rearranged ideas about the dissected amphibian.
There’s an aura, there, said Falima, that seems to glow from the stone.
What’s an example, though, said Jack.
Of? said Ashley.
Of how it’s somehow insulting to me when you get attacked.
A woman dresses a certain way, perhaps to just feel sexy for herself, or for another women, which insults a man because he feels left out in a game designed for his attention, when she refuses his advance, and so he attacks this woman, to assuage feelings of social impotence.
That’s sexist, said Jack.
Bones of the alligator’s spine seemed to move with the red and blue nerves, flitting around organs and through the spine, which made it seem alive, although apart.
No, said Falima. She’s trying to say that he’ll say he couldn’t help himself, because of how she looked, which relies on the assumption that you and all men are all idiots who can’t control themselves, like dogs.
It’s ironic that you’re still being sexist, said Jack.
She’s trying to give you more credit than a dog, and that’s sexist? You probably owe it to your father, and brother, to look into this, basically?
The aura, said Falima, I think that’s what we’re missing, with all those lines near the bottom.
word by Liam Lachance
colour by NYCHOS