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redreaming
July 31, 2006
so, i went to homeslice tonight.
i'm an odd writer, which is no surprise. everything about me and my environment kind of ideally needs to be in balance. the lighting, the chair, the computer or notebook, the pen, the ambient noise, the music.
the alternative, of course, is to get drunk, whic eventually brings me to some sort of baseline. i'm trying not to do that as much these days.
these needs could be dismissed as procrastination tactics, except that when everything feels right, writing is more likely to happen, and it's less likely to suck.
tonight, nothing was in balance. i got there an hour earlier than i'm used to, talked to andre for way longer, drank more beer right off the bat, and instead of my usual half a spinach salad and a slice, i got a half a spinach slice and an entire pizza, of which i ate half.
i left, went home, fed the cats, felt bad for having to leave them again, but i left them again, came here to kammi's house, where i'm housesitting for the week.
i've done it once before, a little over a year ago. everything was different, then. maybe some things were more stable, but today, i feel better than i did then.
last year, i wrote something on her very shiny and cool notebook computer, just as i am now. it was about a dream i had one night here.
this week, tonight, the dream is having me. it's still only a dream, but this time, for now, i actually want to wake up in the morning, to see what small but beautiful things the dream might hold for me that day...
"that's how i knew this story would break my heart."
June 03, 2005
(aimee mann)
i parked in the alley, was with a friend, walked through, stepping carefully between and across the puddles that rippled grey skies, just like the ones i pick my way through in the alley behind the coffeeshop.
my friend and i come to some people by the dumpster behind the record store, like the dumpster behind the record store i visited so often when i was back in college.
she was there, just in front of a group of people that had accumulated to watch some confrontation, under clouds that began to release small cold drops of rain on her as she quietly but firmly berated some surly guy dumping garbage. i was too late to know why, and what i heard i now can't seem to recall.
i watched her, then went through the back door into the record store, wiped the slowly warming drops from my face, my hands on my jeans, moved through the beige and glass room, just like the record store i went to with kristi in alexandria a few years ago.
she came in sometime later, began browsing, the clack of disc cases, small, wispy locks of hair under a knit cap lifting softly with each slow flip of a phonograph record.
I maneuvered down the aisle across from her, willing her to look up, to glimpse, to smile. i saw her, glancing slyly up from the racks, moving my way, too; cat and cat, mouse and mouse.
i was staring.
she looked up through her glasses, smiled, said, "what?"
"i'm sorry?"
"did you have a question? i don't work here, you know," still, all smiling.
"yeah, i know... but. ah."
nice.
recovery. sort of. "coffee. want to grab some?"
she looked at me warily. "you don't drink coffee, do you?"
"no."
"hm. well, that's ok. let's go."
sitting together, inside, but walls open away behind her to the lightening afternoon. we talked of many things, the girl and the walrus, everything so easy, finally.
i asked her name, but only heard her voice, and didn't catch it, and didn't want to just ask it again. it didn't matter, because somehow, once again, now, so many years later again, i was beginning to see, beginning to know.
it couldn't have been more perfect, it couldn't have more perfectly imperfect.
she was like everyone i've known, and like no one i've met. i was amazed at everything i had never thought to want or ask for, even as i had doubted that something far less could ever come.
she paused.
"you do know, right?"
i blinked, my eyes opened slightly, the day seemed to lighten as something in me fell.
"you're not real, are you?"
she smiled, sweetly, sadly, "no, i'm afraid not."
my stomach tightened, but i smiled, as i had before, how long ago, years and minutes.
"that's ok. if i were awake, and you were really here, it could just so easily be something else - married, gay, too young, too old. so this is just, 'not real.' funny, but in the end, it doesn't really make much difference, does it?"
"no, i guess not."
"are you having a good time?"
she smiled again. "yes. yes, i am. and that matters just as much."
i nodded. i wrapped my hand around my mug of tea. somewhere, something, my mind, my heart, god, decided it was warm.
"yeah. then, is it okay if we just hang out a little longer? can we just... do this?"
"i'd like that. but i think simon wants out."
"what? no..."
i could hear simon whimper, and it pulled me away, out of sleep, and she was gone, and i was there in kammi's house, where i was staying with simon and max and the cats while kammi was away, and i was alone, simon at my bed side, wagging his tail, wanting for some reason to go out at 3:24 in the morning.
i reached out and scruffed his ears wearily, stared at the ceiling and tried to put it all back together.
i can't remember her name.
Posted by Rob at July 31, 2006 10:57 PM