Reflections at the end of the year 2005

Reflect
reflection :
light beams from a source bouncing off something
– being aware – being a sentient being.

I want to be a being with consciousness.
I am a person, a living thinking creature not an automaton.
They want me to be an automaton, to not have a mind of my own, they would be happy if I did not reflect, so we are quiet.
They tried to keep me quiet, they put me in the bath and pushed my head under the water to stop me crying. But as I soon as I emerged I cried again.

They put me in a room by myself and shut the door so they did not hear me weeping.
They put their hands over their ears and grimaced but they could not block out the cries of pain and frustration.

They will not stop me.
I will express what I have to say.

The hands the clammy hands over my mouth, fumbling trying to get me to shut up – shut your bleeding mouth – shut your gob – shut it. Keep quiet. You will get a punch up the bracket if you continue.

It came out in other ways I filled exercise books page after page with incantations shit fuck cunt shit fuck cunt over and over written in tiny copperplate writing.

Outside swimming I would shout under the water, in slow motion in the chlorinated blue of the pool. I came up and broke the surface and involuntarily breathed with one almighty gulp of life affirming air filling my lungs to capacity.
Then I pulled myself out of the suction, the water.

Otto Cantu and the 90’s

Once upon a time in the 90’s there was a Venture Capitalist named Otto Cantu. He had an office along Sand Hill Road, Otto looked after gazillions of dollars of other people’s money but he always had his own skin in the game. Otto handed out money to those who would perform for him by jumping over the bar he set.

What Otto liked to do most was to have parties for his friends. They came up to his house on Skyline Drive. Jesus, Otto’s manservant ushered guests out to the deck with its view down into Silicon Valley and the concrete bunkers where engineers worked all hours, watched by MBA’s, in companies that Otto funded.

The highlight of Otto’s parties was the game. Each game was different. Sometimes everyone failed, and sometimes only one person won or failed. The winner receives a prize - a little gewgaw - perhaps a Lexus or a Rolex. At one party Jesus laid a cotton sheet on the floor of the deck. He then placed a tower of flour on top of the sheet. It loomed above everyone 10 feet high. The tower was made by hard packing flour into a mould, which was then turned out. On top of the flour tower was perched a little model aeroplane. The guests sat in a circle around the tower.

Otto liked to have fun. He would shout and joke as his guests took turns at the game. The time I remember it was a select group - there was Kevin the hungry entrepreneur, Susan the slick MBA, Dung the shy Engineer and Freddie a snobby Stanford grad.

When the guests first assembled Otto pulled out a razor sharp machete with a foot long blade and brandished it playfully. The blade of the machete glinted in the rays of the setting sun.

The rules of the game were announced by Otto. Each guest would take it in turns to shave a piece off the flour tower with the machete. If the aeroplane toppled and fell from the crumbling edifice then the guest who had last shaved a slice failed.

Kevin knelt and took out the first slice of the tower, it was a big fat slice.
Bravo. Otto shouted

Next Susan delicately shaved a sliver off the tower.
Susan where is your sense of adventure? Otto asked

Dung carefully sliced off one corner of the tower. Cracks appeared. Freddie gazed intently at the flour tower his lips moving silently.
Otto berated Freddie. Get a move on Freddie. Make your move now.

Freddie slowly sliced a piece off. The aeroplane moved slightly

One of you is going to fly. Otto said

Next Kevin sliced under the flour edifice. He leered at Susan.
Otto said Kevin you’ve left Susan a real doozy.

Susan coolly slithered off another slice. The aeroplane did not move. Dung stepped forward and knelt. He carved a slice off the other side. The tower crumbled and the aeroplane toppled off and fell to the side.

Jesus put his nose in it. Otto said

Jesus stepped forward and pushed Dung’s face into the pile of flour.

Otto said Eat it Dung.

Dung took a mouthful of dry flour and spluttered. The other guests laughed. The flour mixture stuck to Dung’s face and his shirt.

The aeroplane had landed pointing to Susan.

Otto said Susan here are the keys to your new Cessna parked at Palo Alto Airport. Happy flying.

Susan could not pilot a plane but she would learn. The other guests except Dung received silver plated Palm Pilots for their trouble and went home. Dung quietly disappeared.

A year later Susan crashed the plane somewhere in the Pacific and was never seen again. Freddie became a monk. Kevin opened a successful Burger King franchise. While Dung bought a house in old Palo Alto and became a millionaire.

Otto lived happily ever after … at least until the NASDAQ crashed in 2000.

Copyright Keith David Cooley 4th Feb. 2002

Stories from Keith David Cooley

My passion is story. Channelling stories, creating stories, making up stories, telling stories, performing stories, writing stories.

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Keith

keith.cooley@gmail.com