The Shoes

I'm housesitting right now and had imagined it allowing me to work on a rather complex short story concept I have been mulling over for months. But all the change-of-scene has done is disturb my routines. The next best thing is transcribing a very old and short snippet of creative writing I found recently in my concertina file...

Damn, these new shoes hurt. The first step I take is always the worst. It feels as if my Achilles tendons are being torn apart. Each successive step is a bit more tolerable, till about the sixth, from which the pain is barely noticeable. Every time I stop, at a busy road for instance, the whole process starts again. I suppose it's a bit like life - the pain is still there but one grows accustomed to it with time.

They are new shoes, which is why they hurt. I'm breaking them in, but just now it feels like they're breaking me in! Problem is, dead leather don't feel, but flesh does. Anyway, these shoes will provide me with months of leak-free walking, but to gain that I must first suffer. Anything new can hurt. Change can hurt.

As one gets older, life does not get better or worse, it just gets bigger, more complicated. What I'm carrying tells me that. A few years ago it would have been a small bag with a few exercise books in it. Now I wear a large backpack full of folders and books and I also carry my saxophone case in one hand. Today I had two essays returned to me. I get an A for Literature but only a C for Economics. There was a time when I got straight Bs. Oh well. There are more interesting things than study just now anyway.

Had band practice today. We are still a bit rusty, but it's fun, and we get out of classes for it sometimes. The bassist is really cute and we seem to get along well. We only meet so far in band practice. I need to do something about that. But how? I've never asked anybody out before. Maybe I could do it covertly and get the whole band together socially to go to the cinemas or have a picnic or something.

Or maybe I could phone once I get home. I can take off my shoes, have a cool drink, and take my life into my hands while letting my fingers do the walking. Hope that doesn't hurt too much.

I wrote those few paragraphs (very barely edited here) in my twenties but - as you can tell from its content - the character is a teen. At the time I only shared it with a few uni friends. Much of the experience described is familiar to me and yet I have never played the sax or been in a band. Maybe the genesis of my imaginary band Encore is hinted at here. One thing I'm thankful for is how I barely if ever need to wear leather shoes these days.