day 02 | a picture
day 03 | a book/ebook/fanfic
day 04 | a site
day 05 | a youtube clip
day 06 | a quote
day 07 | whatever tickles your fancy
from the 2nd edition of YOU SHALL KNOW OUR VELOCITY! by Dave Eggers, this short story was written from the POV of the secondary character Hand, commenting on Will (the main character's) narration of the novel.
by Francis R. “Hand” Wisneiwski
MONDAY, A DIFFERENT ONE
I MIGHT AS WELL start here. This is Hand, writing almost two years after the action taking place in this book. I sit on the second floor of a house much too big for one. The house is in New Zealand, in the Coromandel peninsula, and its occupant, thirty-one years old, of strong body but a mind that swerves and sputters, is alone.
There is rain here, in a village called Matarangi, in a valley facing a bay, surrounded by green hills, under a ceiling of rain. At first there was no rain. I arrived on a cloudless Tuesday and expected the best for my stay. I have rented this place, old, leaning left, on the end of a wide beach, for just over two weeks, so finally I can do what for around two years now—since the initial appearance of the book you’ve been reading—I’ve wanted to do. It’s appropriate, I hope, that I add my contribution here, at about the point when I personally found the plot, or whatever it was, to begin waning. There will be corrections here, and explanations.
I’ll try to keep my rage and bewilderment in check.
Here in New Zealand, I sat down with the book sooner than I’d expected; I’d planned at least a few weeks of swimming and
drunken evenings, fuzzy and full of rugby on TV, but instead I was given rain. So I got started. Here, until I’m done, I’m going to correct, delete and elaborate upon Will’s text, which tells half the story it seeks to tell, and makes all kinds of things up, and, I think, does a rather half-assed job of all of it. Earlier readers of this book, I feel, read a diluted version of the week Will and I spent, a version afraid to speak, one which found solace in innuendo and gesture, as opposed to simple and declarative speech—one that left unspoken some of the most essential motivations and implications, and was built in large part upon at least three enormous and unjustifiable lies. I have never been one for outright untruths or so-assumed subtlety if it comes at the expense of the message, or realization of potential impact. See, just now, I came out and said something that Will, or those who convey things in the way he would choose, would find some fey, twee, or sublimated way of communicating. There is a time for twee, and a time for just fucking opening your mouth and giving it to you plain.
So I’m here to fix things, and this house seemed the perfect setting. I know no one here in Matarangi, so my distractions were
likely to be minimal. I have only this book, the one you’re reading, and my own more accurate notes and memories, and the photos I took, which I’ll sprinkle throughout.
originally
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