Armchair

Jerald was a ponderer. that is not to say that he is no longer a ponderer, the use of the word was is and will be used to distinguish a separation between Jerald and these words. he is and will continue to be a ponderer, he always was, or so he thought. he sat in the armchair in the garden that if descended to a court of law, was not his, but in his moral stance, was. that was until he pondered to such a degree as to confirm to himself that he was and will sit in his garden in his armchair. Jerald liked the idea of his garden descending to a different context and it becoming something other than his garden, this seemed to Jerald, a wholly reasonable assumption.


Jerald was a modest man, or so he thought to himself, his chair did not know this, but as he pondered to himself in his chair, he suspected that the armchair had its own suspicions. this was a fleeting thought however and Jerald never wrote these particular ponderings down as to confirm his ideas.


The armchair had been recently moved, it was moved as to catch the morning sun that had been slowly rising over his brick house these past weeks. Jerald assumed that he enjoyed pondering on his armchair in the light from the sun. therefore he did not think too much about his enjoyment of it, he did ponder however why the chair was moved. this seemingly minute action that had he presumed occurred had stumped him. he pondered over an idea of time with a faltering memory. he remembered that the armchair had convinced him to read a short story written by J.G Ballard. that is not to say a specific story that the armchair had recommended to him, although this thought made Jerald giggle in such a way to challenge his idea of himself being a mutually exclusive ponderer. the cup of tea he was holding in his left, the chairs right arm had jerked by his abrupt laughter and spilled its contents down his black jeans. Jerald then, jarred by this in his eyes, pondered the requirements of the ponderer sitting on his armchair in his garden in the morning sunlight. was laughter appropriate in this mindset he asked himself.


Jerald decided that he was a ponderer after a scary moment and routinely continued his thought that escaped him briefly. to do this he relived the thoughts preceding his departure point from the act of giggling and whilst reliving; (if this existence was indeed really living he thought) these thoughts he dismantled them to a degree he had not thought whilst he was pondering them for their first time. Jerald looked at a bird that had, he presumed been sitting on a garden fork for some time, he imagined the time being in the realm of when he started reliving his thoughts. Jerald said hello to the bird. Jerald then imagined the little bird to have been startled and flown off. the bird then preceeded to fly off, for when Jerald had finished his thought, the moment had passed. this interaction with this decidedly alive being reminded Jerald of his imagined conversation with the armchair. Jerald’s chest contracted and expanded the way human chests do when they are described as laughing, not chests Jerald thought, humans. Jerald smiled as he noticed no warm patch on his leg, no tea was spilt, Jerald looking down into the cup which he was holding in his left, the chairs right arm. just the remains of what can only be described as a cup of tea was left. Jerald did not recall drinking the tea or indeed thinking about drinking the tea. Jerald imagined himself to be revelling in his humanity, he imagined taking out his journal and turning to the back page and striking a line with the pencil that was in this imaginary Jerald’s hand, the line joined many other lines. these lines and their meaning were known only to him, and maybe the armchair in which he sat, Jerald thought.


No, the armchair did not recommend a certain story to be read, but the sight of the chair, be it real or imagined, for Jerald could not remember or possibly distinguish, had triggered another memory, and with memories and all their connections, the judgement was made that a book containing short stories will be read. it is being read, and it was.