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a selection from the imaginary kaleidescope

sometimes, i like to simply write stray bits, often as accompaniment to music. (i turn the computer on random and write a separate piece for each track that plays.) here are a few excerpts from that sort of exercise.

#1

I thought I dreamed last night, but I can’t remember anymore. I think I dreamed. Maybe a dream of being out, walking in the cold early spring, sitting with people who hardly know I exist, those people who see me every day. Being satisfied that they might finally know what my voice sounded like, being able to explain why I list ever so slightly to the right when I walk, in case they’d ever noticed, not that they would have had reason to notice.

You weren’t there in the dream.

#2

Whoever said it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved didn’t love the way that I love her, didn’t lose her as completely as I am losing her. She takes not only herself when she goes, not only her white form, leaving a smooth, temporary imprint on the sagging sofa, not only this goes with her but part of me as well. The part of me that belongs in recent memory. The part of me that she has created. That’s all done for her now, that’s all done and she moves on, an effortless slide on a chessboard only she can see. She takes me with her. I am left without myself.

#3

Then parlour dramas took their toll and I became that other, that one who held you back from all you dream and you, sweet hero of the tale, put hand to breast and showed how much you longed to fly from here, even as I wrapped my arms around you, even as I thought the history of the flesh would crush you into me.

And then there was the jerky dance around, the histrionics that time expects for its patience. Arms thrusting up and down, countered by those waving side to side, the film descends to lurid drama and then unravels entirely.

Grey real of alone, sitting despondent stupid and waiting for your sunshine.

#4

Marianna needs to stop dancing on the damn table is all I’m thinking at this point. She’s wearing these massive, alarming silver boots and a purple dress, a sort of rabbit-hole dress- only fits around the hare. Her platinum locks- or the synthetic mass that’s passing for her hair this week- shakes and weaves in time with whatever eastern crap Derek’s got blaring from his stereo.

See, the thing is, Derek’s guests encourage Marianna to do this sort of thing because it’s funny. But Derek doesn’t find it funny because he paid more than a month’s rent for the table she’s dancing on. I’m the only one who knows that. Two people are snorting lines off a coffee table that costs more than this incredible apartment.

Comments

Aaron Fenwick said…
Already said bravo to these elsewhere, but I must say bravo again :)
flora_mundi said…
hey, welcome to you, hatter! i figured i'd stick them up here for those who aren't "pets" as well :-)

as long as you're here, why not read more?

jihadvertising?

i keep seeing this ad for tictac candies:



am i the only one who finds the suicide bomber clown at the end a little unnerving? all the nice natural things like the bunny and the [extinct] woolly mammoth and the fruit get devoured by a trying-to-appear-nonthreatening-but-obviously-psychotic clown who then blows himself up. congratulations, tictac, i think this ad has landed you on about a dozen watch lists.

oh and by the way, showing me that your product will somehow cause my stomach to explode in a rainbow of wtf makes me believe that doing consuming tictacs would be a worse dietary decision than the time i ate two raw eggs and a half a bottle of hot sauce on a dare.

eat the pain away?

nearly twenty years ago, an emergency room doctor took a look at the crushing muscle tension i was experiencing [they were clenched enough that a doctor at my regular clinic couldn't get a reflex reaction on my left side and thought i might be having a stroke] and told me she believed that i had fibromyalgia. a couple of weeks later, i went to see a family doctor that a coworker had recommended to me. when i told him what the other doctor had said, he snapped that i was being ridiculous, because, if i'd had fibromyalgia, "i wouldn't be able to move". after i moved to toronto, i got a new family doctor and told her what the other doctors had said. she said that she couldn't be sure, but it was better just to deal with any symptoms i had one at a time. then i came back to montreal and got a new family doctor, who didn't really buy into the whole idea of fibromyalgia and said there was no way to do any definitive test anyway. that doctor passed away, and my …

long suffering

i've been meaning to write this post for a while, but, every time i get started, something happens that makes me rethink portions of it, to add or subtract or consider a different way of looking at things. the post was originally going to be my take on a #metoo statement, but i ended up making that post on my personal facebook page. [it's not that i don't love you all, but there are a few things i'm not comfortable putting in the entirely public sphere.] but beyond joining the #metoo juggernaut, i wanted to write something about the wave of sexual assault revelations that continues to swell over the north american media landscape that wasn't about me. then i realised that that was a little more complicated than just writing "so, lotta sex rapes happenin' these days, ain't there?" or whatever it was that i was going to say.

so i tried writing something about just a part of it: the media coverage or the entertainment industry or the politicians or …