All entries for Monday 02 March 2009

March 02, 2009

….lent, part 1

inspired by jennifer mellor and ivan juritz I am giving up not-writing for Lent. here's how it's been going so far. xx

...lent

Shrove Tuesday

How’m I supposed to explain it all on a day like this. That is to say, one thing will lead to another. By accident kisses will happen, I am hoping. I can watch the way light moves through your hair, rather than bounces off it. I can watch this for hours, though its physical effects mean that I will see nothing.* I will just keep watching. I could watch for hours. And I will see nothing. It is difficult to explain. Today being how it is. That is to say, today being today. I hope for accidental kisses. The light will move through your hair. It will be to all intents and purposes invisible. Hours will pass. I will watch, I will see nothing. I will just keep watching, for hours. And see nothing. Explain! Today, now! Say it! One word will lead to another! Kiss me, accidentally! I continue to hope, as if by accident. The light moves through your hair, by accident. It forgets to collide and bounce. Hours pass, and I watch, watching your invisible hair. For hours. I continue to watch. Hours! Nothing! Plain day now, say, hoping, watching, invisible hours. How am I? I am supposed to explain. Explain it all, in one day! Today, no less. Of all days. Today, when every hour passes invisibly. I watch your day, I watch your hours, passing like invisible hair. The light ignores you and I. The hours pass with the light.

*i.e. becomes no reflected light will enter my retina. BRO

Ash Wednesday

Covered in bruises and silly-string I emerged from the pub.

-         For God’s sake, look alive!*

That was the sound of a bus almost hitting me. Well – the bus sounded more like – skreepow, brrmmm, but the driver opened his mouth and he said aye ooh ah aye and bordered it with consonants.

  I should thank him. If he hadn’t yelled, I might be dead. As it is, I look alive. No matter how I may actually feel, this is how I appear.

  What time is it? It is night time. Could sailors tell the time from the stars and moon, as from the sun? Did time stop at night? Did the night watch guess based on how much of the candle had burnt down?

-         Christ, what happened to you?*

  What happened to me? I cannot remember. I wasted time, remembering. Am I drunk? Who is speaking? Is it me speaking? I don’t remember drinking. Perhaps I am too drunk to remember drinking. Was there a fight? I try to work out how my body feels. I make the mistake of starting with my toes and get confused. I cannot remember whether I meant feel as in physical sensation or as in perceived emotion. I struggle to give my toes emotions separate from the emotions felt in my brain. I confuse the words emotion and motion and am temporarily satisfied by simply wriggling my toes.

  My Samaritan looks at me, expected a response to his well-meaning enquiry. He looks baffled at my bafflement. It was a simple question. I try to bring it to mind. I am the resurrection and the death.*

*The savagest trinity lashing (Whitman). BRO

Thursday

Morning staggered hungover into my bedroom, almost smashing the closed window, clawing desperately at the ragged curtain like a drowning sailor. The figures in the bed shrugged off the hairy sleep-smell’s albatross talons. From miniscule future-technologies alarm bells that would have terrified generations of European monarchs (and rightly so) raised an unholy din through tiny tinny tune-holes. The shrill demonic howl of last night’s demiurge! It manifests itself it crunchy wrinkles around the reluctant pupil-filled eyes.*

  I think today will be the day I actually attend lectures and classes. I think that will be today.

*Your love has taught me to be cross-eyed. BRO


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