Long Past Stopping

Long Past Stopping Read Online Free PDF Page A

Book: Long Past Stopping Read Online Free PDF
Author: Oran Canfield
references I noticed were from the title of the piece, and the conductor’s baton. Like I said, I don’t remember seeing that painting so I can’t comment on that, but I did get the musical reference. I just thought it was kind of obvious, and it didn’t really speak to me.”
    He thought for a moment. “You know, you could have a point. If you haven’t seen the Rembrandt painting, it would have a totally different meaning. I spend so much time in academic circles that I guess I wasn’t even aware that someone wouldn’t get the reference. On the other hand, is it the artist’s responsibility to censor or limit his work because the audience may or may not have the same experiences or reference points? Or do I ignore that and be true to my own knowledge? I have to think about that,” he said, putting the straw in his mouth and going for another hit.
    â€œHey, Lawrence. Where’s your accent from? I can’t place it.” I finally wanted to get to the bottom of this.
    â€œOh, it’s Hebrew,” he answered.
    â€œYou’re from Israel? You know there’s a tree somewhere in Israel with my name on it.”
    â€œYeah,” he said. “Your name means ‘tree’ in Hebrew.”
    â€œNo…I mean, yeah, I know that, but back in the ’70s or something, my grandma gave money to some organization that would plant a tree in Israel and put your name on it. She got one for me and one for my brother.”
    â€œYeah. I remember when they were doing that.” He started laughing. “That’s pretty funny, though. Your tree just says ‘tree’ on it.”
    â€œYeah.” I started laughing too. “I’ve never thought about how ridiculous that is.” I motioned for Lawrence to pass me the tinfoil and I took another hit. “Man, this stuff is good,” I said. “Isn’t this shit pretty addictive, though?”
    â€œNot if you smoke it. I’ve been smoking it now for thirteen years,” he said.
    I was skeptical about that.
    â€œReally, so nothing happens when you leave town?” I asked.
    â€œMy nose seems to run a little when I’m flying somewhere, but I’m not sure if it’s the chiva,” he said, referring to the street name for heroin, “or the crappy air on those planes.”
    â€œHuh. That’s interesting because I would have thought…”
    He seemed pretty convinced, so I decided to let it go. At this point it was late. The Casanova was long closed and an incredible, warm, tired feeling had come over me.
    â€œHey, man, thanks for coming over. I think I’m about to pass out, though.” I was suddenly very out of it, like everything was happening in slow motion.
    â€œNo problem, I had a good time hanging out. I’ll stop by again some time,” he said, getting up to leave.
    I walked him to the door, and without taking off my clothes, went straight to bed. Lying there, teetering on the border of sleep, I became aware that something was definitely different now. There were still the muffled sounds from the residency hotel, the distant car alarms, and the rumbling of buses driving by, but there was also a strange sort of silence I had never noticed before.

three
    The adventures and misdeeds of the boy and his brother on a dirt lot in New Mexico
    H EY, ORY…KYLE. Wake up, guys,” my mom was saying. I struggled to open my eyes. The transition to the real world was always jarring, but I could tell something was weird. The first thing I noticed was that the light was different from when Mom usually got us out of bed: it was coming from a lightbulb rather than outside. It was pitch-dark out, and a glance at the digital clock said it was 5:00 a.m. Kyle was already sitting up, and I managed to do the same.
    â€œOkay, guys, how would you like to take a trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico?” She said it as if we had won some sort of game-show prize, and
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