Monday, April 12, 2004
Falling under
standing dull-eyed and heavy-shod on the deck, lashed by the cold winds of apathy as his words cast themselves one after the other adrift into the insistent seas of fatigue that lap gently about his b(r)ow.
fading. sinking into gentle oblivion. disappearing from memory and existence.
No.
I choose words. For a while at least.
*****
She picks from the ether, sometimes, the ether picks her.
Smells; touches, memories. Thoughts.
So that's how she does it.
familiar.
*****
Saturday: the nightmare telephone call.
Sorry to trouble you, but are you on shift tonight?
(Muzzily.) Yes, I believe I start at eight.
pause. Do you know what time it is now?
It's.... ten thirty.
Oh. Bollocks.
Groan. I, Rumplestiltskin. How on Earth did that happen??!
Fatal exception. Don't leave the alarm clock within arm's reach again.
*****
Sunday.
Running on fumes.
I need a church. But where. Where in this forsaken little hamlet that I... don't know.
Train, London.
Shadows fade in and out of peripheral vision. Kneeling. Thankful, prayer. Sudden jubilant organ cacophony.
Train, Stevenage.
Insomnia (!)
I don't have time for insomnia, dammit! Insomnia is NOT part of the plan!!
The instant after my head hits the pillow, I'm waking up again. Well, that's what it feels like anyway.
Thank God I put the alarm clock on the far side of the room today.
Sum total : three hours somnolence.
Oh well.
*****
Monday. Am I real?
I feel as if, if I wanted to, I could poke a finger through me. Flicker, buzz. Finger in, finger out the other side. Shimmer.
Pictures. Worth a thousand words? Perhaps. But not my words.
I have few photographs; fewer still with people in them. Why would I need a photograph to remind me that I've been there, done that? The memories in my head, the way I picture the memories. Far more precious. More significant. Words paint an extra dimension to the memories. That is why, (to mum, although she'll never read this) I don't take photographs of myself.
Photographs are for when words fail.
That and laziness. And paranoia of geriatric women hotfooting it with my disposable camera?
*****
His words are almost... angry. Tinged with defensiveness?
"What if it's easy for you to fall in love? And please don't try to define love."
"Oh swear not by the inconstant moon..."
Why would I try to define love. Each one of us has our own window on the world.
Each person bears an individual quest in life.
Some seek an ideal companion to measure up to them. To make them proud (of themselves? Or someone else?) Please submit seven copies of CV. Don't apply if under XX cms.
Some seek companionship, a comforting presence by their sides.
Any comforting presence. To dispell the loneliness.
Some seek constancy. My constancy. My little oasis. Mine.
Some seek obedience. Worship. Idolation. Submission.
This writer's quest : Significance.
Not dying surrounded by the wrong people. familiar strangers.
(stolen) : "But you can spend your whole lifetime just learning about one person"
Yes.
Laughing. Living. Dying - with a "strange" Familiar.
Significance.
*****
I will go down with this ship...
Waters, closing overhead. Darkness.
--------
(and don't nobody dare start singing little mermaid)
standing dull-eyed and heavy-shod on the deck, lashed by the cold winds of apathy as his words cast themselves one after the other adrift into the insistent seas of fatigue that lap gently about his b(r)ow.
fading. sinking into gentle oblivion. disappearing from memory and existence.
No.
I choose words. For a while at least.
*****
She picks from the ether, sometimes, the ether picks her.
Smells; touches, memories. Thoughts.
So that's how she does it.
familiar.
*****
Saturday: the nightmare telephone call.
Sorry to trouble you, but are you on shift tonight?
(Muzzily.) Yes, I believe I start at eight.
pause. Do you know what time it is now?
It's.... ten thirty.
Oh. Bollocks.
Groan. I, Rumplestiltskin. How on Earth did that happen??!
Fatal exception. Don't leave the alarm clock within arm's reach again.
*****
Sunday.
Running on fumes.
I need a church. But where. Where in this forsaken little hamlet that I... don't know.
Train, London.
Shadows fade in and out of peripheral vision. Kneeling. Thankful, prayer. Sudden jubilant organ cacophony.
Train, Stevenage.
Insomnia (!)
I don't have time for insomnia, dammit! Insomnia is NOT part of the plan!!
The instant after my head hits the pillow, I'm waking up again. Well, that's what it feels like anyway.
Thank God I put the alarm clock on the far side of the room today.
Sum total : three hours somnolence.
Oh well.
*****
Monday. Am I real?
I feel as if, if I wanted to, I could poke a finger through me. Flicker, buzz. Finger in, finger out the other side. Shimmer.
Pictures. Worth a thousand words? Perhaps. But not my words.
I have few photographs; fewer still with people in them. Why would I need a photograph to remind me that I've been there, done that? The memories in my head, the way I picture the memories. Far more precious. More significant. Words paint an extra dimension to the memories. That is why, (to mum, although she'll never read this) I don't take photographs of myself.
Photographs are for when words fail.
That and laziness. And paranoia of geriatric women hotfooting it with my disposable camera?
*****
His words are almost... angry. Tinged with defensiveness?
"What if it's easy for you to fall in love? And please don't try to define love."
"Oh swear not by the inconstant moon..."
Why would I try to define love. Each one of us has our own window on the world.
Each person bears an individual quest in life.
Some seek an ideal companion to measure up to them. To make them proud (of themselves? Or someone else?) Please submit seven copies of CV. Don't apply if under XX cms.
Some seek companionship, a comforting presence by their sides.
Any comforting presence. To dispell the loneliness.
Some seek constancy. My constancy. My little oasis. Mine.
Some seek obedience. Worship. Idolation. Submission.
This writer's quest : Significance.
Not dying surrounded by the wrong people. familiar strangers.
(stolen) : "But you can spend your whole lifetime just learning about one person"
Yes.
Laughing. Living. Dying - with a "strange" Familiar.
Significance.
*****
I will go down with this ship...
Waters, closing overhead. Darkness.
--------
(and don't nobody dare start singing little mermaid)
