STANLEY SMITH'S SWEATERS
March 2nd 2009 13:16
I have just re-written this story. The inspiration for the story was my College philosophy teacher Stan Van Hooft, who showed me that it was okay to think in a different way. Part way through my second year of college I dropped out. I was supposed to be studying writing but I was too young to really have anything to write about and I was more interested in taking recreational drugs and staying up all night. My concentration was dissolving. But I always remembered Stan Van Hooft.
STANLEY SMITH'S SWEATERS
Stanley Smith seemed always to be on the verge of perlexity. As if he expected, at any moment, to be told something incomprehensible.
‘I want to collect my thoughts’ Stan said to the empty room.
‘And what will you do with them?’ A voice came back.
‘When I have a sizable collection I intend to make a sweater but it's taking a long time.’
‘You must have constant stimulation in order to generate more thoughts.’ The voice declared.
Stan contracted his brow and replied,
‘Then I'd have the problem of sifting through a copious amount of thoughts for those that were suitably matched. You see, the problem is with the sweater itself. I have not yet decided on style, or colour, or length. Or, in fact, anything at all about it.’
‘Not necessarily’ Stan argued. ‘Certainly, if an object is brightly or strongly coloured the eyes are immediately drawn to it.
‘Or if some aspect of its design highlights the colour, it may be the focus of attention.’ The voice added.
‘Yes’ agreed Stan, But this may also pose a problem. You see, I don't want to attract others simply because of my sweater. You know how it is. You go to a party and a complete stranger hails you as a kindred spirit when you have little in common other the colour of your jumper. In a big crowded room I could be mistaken for someone else.’ Stan sighed and shook his head.
That night Stanley Smith lay on his bed at the end of his room, beneath an open window in which drapes moved softly and heavily on the night air. He had a dream.
Two large drawers, in the dresser opposite the bed, slid open. The contents stirred. Slowly, silently, moving imperceptibly at first they hooked their arms around the edges of the drawers and crawled, caterpillar-like, toward's Stanley's bed. They wriggled up over the bed-end. Yellow, Red and Blue. And countless variations.
Stanley awoke and beheld, in wonder, two jumpers sitting at the end of his bed discussing life in the drawer. Previously, they had shared only chance encounters at the dry-cleaners or in the mad whirl of the washing machine. They had a lot to talk about. All the sweaters spoke with excitement about what was beyond the drawer. They mixed in new and interesting ways and life seemed suddenly full of unexplored possibilities. It was agreed, unanimously, that Stanley Smith had a lot to answer for. He had mistreated them. Constantly tossed on cold floors or sat on by the dog. Or left in the washbasket for weeks, being borne down by the growing weight of Stanley’s more personal items. It was beginning to take its toll and more than a few were deeply concerned - not only about their future but about the ethics of the situation. They were well acquainted with Stanley's one-man dialectics. He read his lectures out loud - in front of the mirror, in the bath, as he dressed. And at odd times when he had a few minutes to spare. He prepared for the questions that would be asked and practised the responses he would give.
The sweaters were united in agreement about the cause of their dissatisfaction. Their indignation mounted and fuelled their desire to escape their bonds.
They slipped under the sheets and wound themselves around Stanley's wrists and ankles then carried him high into the sky and hung him on a star. They glided with arms outstretched, billowing down on currents of air that took them back to Stanley's room.
‘Things will be different from now on.’ They declared, and raised their arms and waved joyously.
In the morning Stanley's mother came into his room and picked up his jumpers then folded them and put them back into the drawers. She was not as methodical as Stanley and the jumpers were replaced at random, in the order in which she picked them up.
So the change wasn't quite what they had anticipated. Many complained, but as they became better acquainted and settled into their new surroundings, they began to accept what they saw to be the inevitable fate of a sweater. Stanley was not there to stimulate their emotions and they eventually came to believe that nothing existed beyond the drawer; that what they had experienced had been the result of a particularly concentrated dose of dry-cleaning fluid, which had caused them to etherize and to defy earthly barriers, thus enabling them to carry out Supersweater feats.
But since Stanley no longer wore the jumpers there was no reason for them to be cleaned so they remained in the drawer until they became so moth-eaten that they were not worth cleaning anyway.
Then one day, Stanley's mother opened the drawers and took them out. She used them for cleaning and polishing until they were so full of holes that there was only one place left for them.
The rubbish bin.
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Comment by Journeywoman
Great Hair Style Tips
I Dream of Hollywood
Fashion Peach
Comment by Teresa Ralton
MRS SMITH
READ THIS
SISTERS IN CRIME
I was very much into the symbolic gesture and wanted to start afresh. I was sorry for it later though - about the diaries especially. I've heard a few writers say that writing is something they have to do - in the blood and all that - but if something is just sitting in my bottom drawer I think Why bother! But now I don't have to be sad about not getting published. I've got Orble. Yay!
Comment by Journeywoman
Great Hair Style Tips
I Dream of Hollywood
Fashion Peach
Yeah Orble's great. Welcome. You are clearly a brave one; I'll be reading.
Comment by Journeywoman
Great Hair Style Tips
I Dream of Hollywood
Fashion Peach
Comment by Teresa Ralton
MRS SMITH
READ THIS
SISTERS IN CRIME
Comment by moonglow
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Comment by Mistersmith
MRS SMITH
READ THIS
SISTERS IN CRIME
What's an Afghan?
Comment by moonglow
A Lot of Scrap
Paranormal Paranormal
Teacup Tales
Rubber Ball
In Zoo
Craft Voyage
Moonglow Rising-A Literary Blog
How to Write
Handcrafted
Informative Articles
Free Sewing Patterns For You
The Soon to be World Famous Online Vintage Craft Book Museum
Junk
All About Angels
The Modern-Day Craft Book Museum
Free Greeting Card Verses
The Something for Nothing Blog
I Like Playing With Toys
Crochet It
Craft Gallery
Thanks for the inspiration!!