Everybody raise a glass!

I thought of glass as I read the paper today. Online of course. Apparently there's still debate about whether glass is a solid or a liquid.

People can be so caught up in theory, when the truth is staring them right in the face. Just ask them what's really real, and they don't have a clue. Caught up in books, booze, or a glass menagerie of lies.

Real life poses many situations where, if you open your eyes, the debate ends. Of the many things I've done with my hands, one of them provides the perfect example to illustrate my point.

I used to be a mason. Not the capitol Mason that begins with "Free" that is nothing of the sort. My calloused hands laid brick. Sweat and dirt building up a thick residue on my arms, washed away at the end of the day, but never truly gone. I worked with Bruce. Bruce stunk like booze in the morning but always sweated it all out by 11 am. Bruce was the perfect man for the job, but you could tell the job wasn't perfect for him. He was always forgetting something, whether it was a shower in the morning, or his past sins after work, cleared away with a cold pint and a shot of Jack. Bruce isn't the story though.

Brucey and I were building a chimney for this rich fuck. Real prick of a guy. He was greasy and wore a wifebeater and a toothpick out of the left half of his sneering mouth. Nouveau Riche hailing from Howard Beach. I could tell he was going to be trouble. I had a good read on him. He watched Bruce and I the whole time and gave us instructions. I finally had to tell him that if he knew so much, he should build the goddamn thing himself. He didn't like that too much, and repercussions were imminent. I could feel the guy was going to stiff me, so I devised a plan.

Halfway up the chimney, I built in a plate of glass across the floe. Bruce didn't get it. Bruce told me I was paranoid. He was scared the glass would get us in trouble. Ironic, but Bruce was a good man.

Time came where the chimney was done, and the man had to pay. We didn't go half in on the job. We really built the man a nice chimney. You set yourself to something, you might as well do it the proper way. Me and Bruce took pride in our work. The man opens up his wallet, and says, "I don't have the change right now, I'll pay you later." I would've been happier with myself, but I wasn't paid. So I told him "Sure thing, man, just don't use the chimney until you fork it over."

Three hours later that Howard Beach guy calls me up in a real frenzy. Smoke and the stink of deceit are now filling his house. What a guy. I go back and ask for the money. He opens up his wallet and the change was there all along. I smiled to myself. Bruce would be drinking well tonight. I climbed up onto the roof, and dropped a brick down that chimney, shattering the glass and the man's "I'm smarter than you" persona. The smoke billowed up, and I'd like to think the deceit left too, but I bet that guy is still the same. Bruce never changed either.

None-the-less, glass is solid.