Time moves at a uniform pace, if you believe the science. But if you believe your own eyes and brain, you know it moves at variable paces, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, and sometimes, as in the case of my high school math class, time stopped.
Sometimes, as in the case of my high school math class, time stopped.
My watch stopped. The wall clock stopped. My head numbed. I slipped into a no-time dimension, not unlike Pompeii smothered in ash, not unlike life spent inside a zombie sarcophagus. There was no end to it, just droning sounds emitted on a repeating loop. Droning sounds emitted on a repeating loop. Droning sounds emitted on a repeating loop.
I learned one thing in that class: how to scrunch into an invisible ball so that my teacher couldn’t see me and wouldn’t call on me, so I could pass eternity in the quietude of my invisibility.
Here is what I said about myself on the back page of my 2020 humor/drama/politico novel "The Debutante (and the Bomb Factory)" (edited here, for clarity):
"Jonathan Canter Is a retIred attorney; widower; devoted father and grandfather (sounds like my obit); lifelong resident of Greater Boston; graduate of Harvard College (where he was an editor of The Harvard Lampoon); fan of waves and wolves; sporadic writer of dry and sometimes dark humor (see "Lucky Leonardo" (Sourcebooks, 2004), funny to the edge of tears); gamesman (see "A Crapshooter’s Companion"(2019), existential thriller and life manual); and part-time student of various ephemeral things."
The Deb and Lucky are available on Amazon. The Crapshooter is available by request to the author in exchange for a dinner invitation.