Useless is an Utterly Useless Word
Daniel Ford rounded the corner of State Street. Four blocks up and forty-eight feet to the east lay 113 Wisconsin, the home of Philip Hirsch, a fellow therapist, and Doloris his lovely wife. Daniel Ford had been invited to eat dinner that evening at their home located at 113 Wisconsin, four blocks up and then east. The stoop with the potted oleanders, apartment 8 rear, ring the buzzer, P. Hirsch it should say. He should pick up a bottle of something to give to them. It was most likey, an unnecessary gesture, but also proper etiquette. He didn't bring anything when he visited the Anderson's last week and that bastard Jeremy Scott brought flowers for Mrs. Anderson and although Daniel knew Mrs. Anderson thought nothing of his empty-handedness, he didn't like the thought of being shown up.
Daniel Ford was early and would have ten minutes to spare before arriving. Mrs. Hirsch had a sister that would be attending. Mr. Hirsch had warned him earlier that she was supposedly a "looker". Not that Daniel Ford was looking or on the prowl but, he was indeed coming of age. That age where parties were more exhausting than energizing. That age where loud thumping basses induced a throbbing at his temples rather than a churning in his groin. This change in his customs was only natural when it came to men of Daniels age and it was decidedly an appropriate and timely surrender.
Flowers perhaps.
He would be hard pressed to find a decent bottle of wine in any of these bodegas, and their apartment was only another few blocks to- a man pushing a brick wall- go so he had to get something quick or he would show up yet again without-
Daniel stopped and cocked his head.
His senses, which until now had been working at a slower pace than his legs, reeled his mind back to the aforementioned scene.
Without changing his inquisitive expression or the slight angle of his head, he took five steps backwards to the entrance of the alley. A man, at an age not far from his own, seemed to be throwing himself against the brick face of an eleven story apartment building. It appeared as if he was trying with all his energy to push or move the wall for, what seemed to Daniel, no apparent reason.
The alley basked in a grayish hue. Puddles of rainwater from that mornings scattered showers splashed around the mans ankles as he thrust himself, seemingly without concern for physical repercussion, at the solid wall of bricks. Thick grunts and hissed breaths escaped between the mans gritted teeth as he forced himself onto it, virtually attacking the wall.
Was there a door Daniel could not see from this angle? The man was not dressed like he was crazy. In fact, not three feet away from them, propped up against the same wall he was throwing himself at was a briefcase, over which lay a well tailored suit jacket made with the same material and quality as the pair of slacks the man was wearing. Why the hell could this man be doing something so absolutely, practically comically, no definitely comically, futile?
Daniel was so completely enveloped in curiosity he had not noticed that his legs, on an accord of their own, were on their way to approaching the scene and not only that but his lips, in secret alliance with his tongue had already started to form the first words of the blaring question responsible for the contorting of his face, "What the fu-" The sound of his own voice snapped him out of his trance. He quickly caught his escaping voice with a cupped palm as if catching an escaping moth.
He was suddenly aware of his position. He was standing not two feet away from the insane man. So close he could observe almost every detail. The beads of sweat rolling from the mans brow, the veins bulging through the skin of his neck and forehead as he forced himself against it, his palms raw from cuts and abrasions returned onto him from the corrosive exterior of the unreasonable wall, the pleading whimpers behind each grunt and growl.
Such an indecent lack of restraint, but for what?
Daniel Ford was compelled to speak.
May I ask what you are doing.
The man continued pushing against the wall.
Or maybe, why are you doing what you’re doing.
The man made no indication of acknowledging Daniel Ford’s presence.
Why this building.
Are you mad.
Or is this some type of television show.
Is there a camera hidden somewhere documenting this.
Daniel's head turned on its axis, searching the alley corners for some sort of fiber-optic. Despite his heroic attempts at conversation the man carried on undaunted.
I don’t understand what you are trying to accomplish.
Do you actually think that this building can be made to move.
Daniel Ford was being ignored.
Yes, of course if by some bulldozer or some demolition crew, but by you, with only your two hands. How do you expect to do that.
Daniel Ford was beginning to take offense.
Why do you not listen.
Do you not believe me.
Do you think for some reason, I've come to harm you.
That you can't trust me.
The man reared up and charged at the wall full force. Slamming himself into it in the exact position as if he was trying to stop a train. Pushing with all of his might. Saliva and hot breath seethed through his clenched teeth.
Daniel Ford's charity was being rejected.
I have nothing to do with you, you know.
My even speaking to you right now is of no benefit to me only you!
Until now, the sounds of scuffling, groans and growls, and the neverending influx of questions circling round Daniel Fords head muted any noise from the world beyond the alley. At Daniel Fords last mention the man actually stopped his struggling. Echos of life and laughter street seeped in from the street.
Daniel Ford was encouraged to continue.
Look, at your watch, now you can't fake that quality. You obviously are a man of accomplishments. You have enough presence of mind it seems to dress smart.
The man's breathing slowed down. For the first time his body seemed to relax. His shoulders heaved as his breaths deepened and regulated. He remained in position; head lowered, palms against the wall, elbows locked, frozen.
Still, Daniel Ford felt he was making progress.
What is your field of work in. Finance. Law. Politics.
What if your boss happened upon here.
Do you realize your entire life's work could be completely flushed if the wrong person witnessed such an indecent lack of restraint.
If not for yourself, think of the welfare of your family! Your wife!-if you have one- How would she explain this to people? Your children! -if you have any-
A long drawn out note emitted from the mans bowed head. It rose harmonious, as if he were starting to sing, but dipped perilously into a heart wrenching wail and the man instead sobbed.
Daniel Ford pitied him. He used his most sympathetic tone.
It’s a completely useless feat and, if only by yourself, impossible by every angle.
Slowly the man lifted his head. His face was withdrawn, defeated beneath a thin layer of gray soot. A slow inconsistent stream of tears trickled from the crow’s-feet of his eyes making erratic trails of clean skin through the soot. Finally, he removed his hands from the wall. His arms fell limply to his side.
With a heavy sigh the man stood back and gave a look up and around at the vast expanse of brick and mortar stacked in front of him at least fifty feet in length and eleven stories tall.
Daniel Ford felt he was begining to understand.
It probably has nothing to do with the wall, does it?
Look, I don't know who you are or what got you into this situation, but I feel I could help if you only-
With a crazed, carnal scream he starts back up again (!) and hurled himself into the wall with a loud fleshy smack, save if you could hear the smack above the screaming.
Daniel Ford’s initial reaction was appalled offense though it morphed quickly into a guarded sense of disease as he bore witness to the most animalistic of transformations.
A tragic high pitched howl tore gutturally from the mans lungs with each running start and bone crunching impact. If the mans preceding actions could be described as desperate, then this could only be gestured as flailing maniacal rage.
Once Daniel realized the mans attentions were once again devoted to the wall all concerns habored for his own safety suddenly channeled into indignation...
What are you doing man!
...and then into rage.
Its brick! Red brick!Several tons of it on this wall alone! It’s solid you fool! SOLID!
Daniel Ford hit the wall hard with his fist to make the point. Immediately a blinding pain and a sensation of disenjointment flared through his knuckles. His eyes widened and he burped a gasp of pain!
His face, beet red with anger, shot up at the man.
LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!
He cradled his closed fist to his chest like a fallen sparrow.
MY HAND! IT’S BROKEN! YOU MANIAC!
The man had not skipped one beat. Over and over he ran at the wall pushing with all his might with more fervor than ever. He charged, collided, pushed then retreated for another running start, charged at it again, collided, pushed then retreated, over and over.
Daniel Ford's head followed each charge and retreat as if he were watching a tennis match.
You're a maniac!
Daniel Ford shouted as he backed away.
You're going to kill yourself doing this and no one is even going to care!
Charge, collide, push, retreat. Charge, collide, push, retreat.
A maniac.
Daniel Ford muttered, more to himself as he took one last step back then out of the alley and away down the street.
Charge, collide, push, retreat. Charge, collide, push, retreat. The man continued his cycle way into the night. Charge, collide, push, retreat. Charge, collide, push, retreat. Hours after Daniel Ford left him. Charge, collide, push, retreat. Charge, collide, push, retreat.
Then all of a sudden...Charge, collide, push, retreat. Charge-
He stopped.
The man stood in the middle of the alley gathering his breath. After a few moments, he straightened out the sleeves of his dress shirt, first the left, then the right. He bent down retrieving his suit jacket and looked toward the sky absentmindedly while he did so, searching for the time through position of sun or moon as he adjusted his cuffs and collar. Slowly and with ease, for his body did ache, he picked up his briefcase. Blood, gravel and mortar pressed between his hand and the fine leather grip. He took a last look at the brick-faced wall in front of him and nodded agreeably. Then he stepped out of the alley and into the night.
Daniel Ford was early and would have ten minutes to spare before arriving. Mrs. Hirsch had a sister that would be attending. Mr. Hirsch had warned him earlier that she was supposedly a "looker". Not that Daniel Ford was looking or on the prowl but, he was indeed coming of age. That age where parties were more exhausting than energizing. That age where loud thumping basses induced a throbbing at his temples rather than a churning in his groin. This change in his customs was only natural when it came to men of Daniels age and it was decidedly an appropriate and timely surrender.
Flowers perhaps.
He would be hard pressed to find a decent bottle of wine in any of these bodegas, and their apartment was only another few blocks to- a man pushing a brick wall- go so he had to get something quick or he would show up yet again without-
Daniel stopped and cocked his head.
His senses, which until now had been working at a slower pace than his legs, reeled his mind back to the aforementioned scene.
Without changing his inquisitive expression or the slight angle of his head, he took five steps backwards to the entrance of the alley. A man, at an age not far from his own, seemed to be throwing himself against the brick face of an eleven story apartment building. It appeared as if he was trying with all his energy to push or move the wall for, what seemed to Daniel, no apparent reason.
The alley basked in a grayish hue. Puddles of rainwater from that mornings scattered showers splashed around the mans ankles as he thrust himself, seemingly without concern for physical repercussion, at the solid wall of bricks. Thick grunts and hissed breaths escaped between the mans gritted teeth as he forced himself onto it, virtually attacking the wall.
Was there a door Daniel could not see from this angle? The man was not dressed like he was crazy. In fact, not three feet away from them, propped up against the same wall he was throwing himself at was a briefcase, over which lay a well tailored suit jacket made with the same material and quality as the pair of slacks the man was wearing. Why the hell could this man be doing something so absolutely, practically comically, no definitely comically, futile?
Daniel was so completely enveloped in curiosity he had not noticed that his legs, on an accord of their own, were on their way to approaching the scene and not only that but his lips, in secret alliance with his tongue had already started to form the first words of the blaring question responsible for the contorting of his face, "What the fu-" The sound of his own voice snapped him out of his trance. He quickly caught his escaping voice with a cupped palm as if catching an escaping moth.
He was suddenly aware of his position. He was standing not two feet away from the insane man. So close he could observe almost every detail. The beads of sweat rolling from the mans brow, the veins bulging through the skin of his neck and forehead as he forced himself against it, his palms raw from cuts and abrasions returned onto him from the corrosive exterior of the unreasonable wall, the pleading whimpers behind each grunt and growl.
Such an indecent lack of restraint, but for what?
Daniel Ford was compelled to speak.
May I ask what you are doing.
The man continued pushing against the wall.
Or maybe, why are you doing what you’re doing.
The man made no indication of acknowledging Daniel Ford’s presence.
Why this building.
Are you mad.
Or is this some type of television show.
Is there a camera hidden somewhere documenting this.
Daniel's head turned on its axis, searching the alley corners for some sort of fiber-optic. Despite his heroic attempts at conversation the man carried on undaunted.
I don’t understand what you are trying to accomplish.
Do you actually think that this building can be made to move.
Daniel Ford was being ignored.
Yes, of course if by some bulldozer or some demolition crew, but by you, with only your two hands. How do you expect to do that.
Daniel Ford was beginning to take offense.
Why do you not listen.
Do you not believe me.
Do you think for some reason, I've come to harm you.
That you can't trust me.
The man reared up and charged at the wall full force. Slamming himself into it in the exact position as if he was trying to stop a train. Pushing with all of his might. Saliva and hot breath seethed through his clenched teeth.
Daniel Ford's charity was being rejected.
I have nothing to do with you, you know.
My even speaking to you right now is of no benefit to me only you!
Until now, the sounds of scuffling, groans and growls, and the neverending influx of questions circling round Daniel Fords head muted any noise from the world beyond the alley. At Daniel Fords last mention the man actually stopped his struggling. Echos of life and laughter street seeped in from the street.
Daniel Ford was encouraged to continue.
Look, at your watch, now you can't fake that quality. You obviously are a man of accomplishments. You have enough presence of mind it seems to dress smart.
The man's breathing slowed down. For the first time his body seemed to relax. His shoulders heaved as his breaths deepened and regulated. He remained in position; head lowered, palms against the wall, elbows locked, frozen.
Still, Daniel Ford felt he was making progress.
What is your field of work in. Finance. Law. Politics.
What if your boss happened upon here.
Do you realize your entire life's work could be completely flushed if the wrong person witnessed such an indecent lack of restraint.
If not for yourself, think of the welfare of your family! Your wife!-if you have one- How would she explain this to people? Your children! -if you have any-
A long drawn out note emitted from the mans bowed head. It rose harmonious, as if he were starting to sing, but dipped perilously into a heart wrenching wail and the man instead sobbed.
Daniel Ford pitied him. He used his most sympathetic tone.
It’s a completely useless feat and, if only by yourself, impossible by every angle.
Slowly the man lifted his head. His face was withdrawn, defeated beneath a thin layer of gray soot. A slow inconsistent stream of tears trickled from the crow’s-feet of his eyes making erratic trails of clean skin through the soot. Finally, he removed his hands from the wall. His arms fell limply to his side.
With a heavy sigh the man stood back and gave a look up and around at the vast expanse of brick and mortar stacked in front of him at least fifty feet in length and eleven stories tall.
Daniel Ford felt he was begining to understand.
It probably has nothing to do with the wall, does it?
Look, I don't know who you are or what got you into this situation, but I feel I could help if you only-
With a crazed, carnal scream he starts back up again (!) and hurled himself into the wall with a loud fleshy smack, save if you could hear the smack above the screaming.
Daniel Ford’s initial reaction was appalled offense though it morphed quickly into a guarded sense of disease as he bore witness to the most animalistic of transformations.
A tragic high pitched howl tore gutturally from the mans lungs with each running start and bone crunching impact. If the mans preceding actions could be described as desperate, then this could only be gestured as flailing maniacal rage.
Once Daniel realized the mans attentions were once again devoted to the wall all concerns habored for his own safety suddenly channeled into indignation...
What are you doing man!
...and then into rage.
Its brick! Red brick!Several tons of it on this wall alone! It’s solid you fool! SOLID!
Daniel Ford hit the wall hard with his fist to make the point. Immediately a blinding pain and a sensation of disenjointment flared through his knuckles. His eyes widened and he burped a gasp of pain!
His face, beet red with anger, shot up at the man.
LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!
He cradled his closed fist to his chest like a fallen sparrow.
MY HAND! IT’S BROKEN! YOU MANIAC!
The man had not skipped one beat. Over and over he ran at the wall pushing with all his might with more fervor than ever. He charged, collided, pushed then retreated for another running start, charged at it again, collided, pushed then retreated, over and over.
Daniel Ford's head followed each charge and retreat as if he were watching a tennis match.
You're a maniac!
Daniel Ford shouted as he backed away.
You're going to kill yourself doing this and no one is even going to care!
Charge, collide, push, retreat. Charge, collide, push, retreat.
A maniac.
Daniel Ford muttered, more to himself as he took one last step back then out of the alley and away down the street.
Charge, collide, push, retreat. Charge, collide, push, retreat. The man continued his cycle way into the night. Charge, collide, push, retreat. Charge, collide, push, retreat. Hours after Daniel Ford left him. Charge, collide, push, retreat. Charge, collide, push, retreat.
Then all of a sudden...Charge, collide, push, retreat. Charge-
He stopped.
The man stood in the middle of the alley gathering his breath. After a few moments, he straightened out the sleeves of his dress shirt, first the left, then the right. He bent down retrieving his suit jacket and looked toward the sky absentmindedly while he did so, searching for the time through position of sun or moon as he adjusted his cuffs and collar. Slowly and with ease, for his body did ache, he picked up his briefcase. Blood, gravel and mortar pressed between his hand and the fine leather grip. He took a last look at the brick-faced wall in front of him and nodded agreeably. Then he stepped out of the alley and into the night.
posted by artfart at 1:55 PM
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