Blackout

Last weekend I had a blackout. I was kicking around the house in my PJs, eating peanut butter straight from the industrial sized plastic bin and watching television when suddenly...WHAM! There was a snap of cables and synapses in my head and then...nothing. I was plunged into darkness. My heart began to race and I panicked. After the first waves of terror crashed over me and washed away, I was imbibed with what I now see as an alarming amount of nonchalance. I became swathed in a cozy, fuzzy numbness. I began searching methodically for an alternate power source. None could be found. No blue flame licking up from the range top; no flicker of candle light. Hell, I couldn't even find a lighter, though I occasionally go through bouts of ferocious chain smoking. I did find some matches, but the book was soggy wet from my innards. I dunno, maybe it was my recent encounter with a viper of a man who had taken everything from me that overloaded the system. Perhaps it was all those years of bawling catharsis at sad movies and belting out pathetic songs in the shower that eventually just tapped the power source. But something in me just went stone cold and dark. Well, so be it, I thought. I hunkered down and was resigned to holding tight ‘til the light of day broke through. I tried to think of stimulating thoughts... bits of conversation, old Mutual of Omaha episodes, mathematical problems. But I just couldn't be stimulated. Soon I found myself sitting on the floor in complete darkness, drumming with my fingers, sighing repetitively and picking at scabs. Even the tub of peanut butter had lost its appeal. Suddenly the phone rang. I did a double take. I had forgotten that phones still work, voices still vocalize, bodies still function during blackouts. I was indifferent to the fact that they did and to whoever it might be that was calling, I was just a bit surprised to hear it ring. "Hello." "Jen? Hi, it's Kenn." "Oh, hi, Kenn." "What's up?" "Uh, I'm just sittin' around, pasting magazine cutouts to the fridge with peanut butter." "Wow, that sounds like fun. Oh, hey, the next issue of Dry Hump is almost done!" Kenn was a graphic artist working on the 4th edition of his own publication, a witty, edgy, smutty thing. I started picking the dirt out from under my nails. "Uh, that's cool." As an afterthought, and out of courtesy, I added, "Don't forget to send me a copy." "Of course I won't forget to send you a copy! I put your story in this issue." What story had I written? "Oh yeah. OK." "Are you alright? You sound a little out of it." I paused for a moment and thought about actually contemplating the validity of that statement, but quickly decided against it. "No, I'm fine." "Well, listen, a bunch of us are meeting at Second Wind. You want to join us for drinks later?" "Hmm..." I shrugged. "Nah. ...Well, whatever. I'm just gonna hang out here. Stop by if you want. I've still got this yummy David Duchovny article to paste." Actually, if I could get wet over those tasty images I would've been better off, but as it was I was dry as the Sahara with no oasis in sight. I hung up the phone and sighed. The green light on the back of the cordless lit up, it's brightness intensified by the dark. I stared at that glowing spot for an hour, I think. The truth is I had no magazines and very little peanut butter. That's when I had a surge of power. Just a quick flicker, a tease. Enough to put the seed of hope in me. And suddenly I found myself missing the sound of Kenn's voice. And then I found myself missing Kenn. Not in a needy, desperate or sexual kind of way. Well, maybe just a wee bit sexual. But it was more like ...an emptiness. I ran through the streets hysterically, searching for a glimmer of light from a neighbor's house or even just someone to verify the power surge I had just experienced. But out there it was like the night the comet hit... the streets were silent, cold, dark, uninhabited. As my feet hit the pavement my steps made a hollow clicking sound. I shouted out loud to no one, just to break the monotonous humming in my ears. I screamed curses at my senses to WAKE UP! Some feeling of fear crept through me then. I was getting nervous. The night wrapped around me like an old shower curtain, sticky and disgusting. I couldn't take it anymore. I fell to my knees right in the middle of the street and raised my fists up to a god I no longer believed in and screamed!!! WHY had I chosen to be this dramatic on asphalt?! Ooh... my knees... Suddenly I heard music, as if a record player halted in its tracks was switched back on. I saw Kenn and his friend walking up the street towards me, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking between me on my knees and his friend. The mariachi music blared loud and ethnic. Lights flickered on and I could feel the earth hum with computers, refrigerators, joy, fear, anger, compassion and surprise. I looked about me and was happy with what I saw. I felt like God on the 7th day. I thought my heart would burst. "Jen, what's going on? What are you doing?" I noted the concern in Kenn's voice. I got up from my sore knees and smiled casually at him. "Oh, nothing. I just came out here to find something that I lost." "Well, did you find it?" his friend asked. I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally. "Nah. Doesn't matter. Let's go have a beer!" Copyright 1998 Jennifer Chung All rights reserved. Go back