Denmark
suicide pact
She said,
I am in a deep funk tonight.
I said,
I mean, there’s no point to anything, certainly
Iʼve been thinking a lot about this thing you said that night back in Brooklyn when I went off to maybe have sex with Redford (I didnʼt, by the way — he just stretched my hamstrings for me and showed me several drawings heʼd done of different breeds of dog pooping), the thing about desiring some alternative category of togetherness for us
Because I feel that, too
And I was thinking that we could slit our wrists together
She said,
A suicide pact. I never even thought of that and here I thought I was more involved in the dark arts than you.
I said,
Well
Iʼm trying to be psyched about continuing to live this life so maybe thatʼs not quite the one I want
Itʼs just, like, this is all so BURDENSOME
But
I guess Iʼm choosing to gamble on the premise that thereʼs an answer
If only one in the form of some formula for survival
She said,
I donʼt feel very close to death. Let’s keep at it; we can do better.
I said,
Iʼm sorry living is so much work
I wish I could magic it away for you
Although I guess if you were someone who could be fooled by magic I wouldnʼt have nearly as much use for you
Use, admiration, appetite
Need.
She said,
Thank you for offering a vague sense of possibility that doesnʼt feel dumb or like lies.
I said,
I guess Iʼm going to keep trying to pack
Iʼm petrified of Berlin
I canʼt even figure out how to say “Iʼm sorry, I donʼt speak German” in German.
She said,
Berlin is amazing and everyone speaks English, they are ashamed of everything too. You will love it there I suspect.
I said,
Iʼm looking forward to some public toplessness, I think.
almost-total solitude
I said,
Already Iʼve lapsed into the insanity of someone whoʼs gone from a too-social existence to almost-total solitude
The truth is I am terrified at all times, and to pretend that all I notice is the sunshine and beer and new friends is the only answer I know.
(Although maybe thatʼs exactly whatʼs at the root of such annoying manners at their most manifest, a vain effort to keep the demons of consciousness at bay?)
I slept so badly last night, mostly because of anxiety about getting up in time to do everything necessary in the apartment and be packed and make it to my bus on time, but also I think because Iʼve been on a cocktail of melatonin and some kind of over-the-counter antihistamine to get on this time zone but skipped them last night because I was afraid of oversleeping HOWEVER in the one good, tranquil, unworried hour of sleep I got, I was dreaming about us hiking in the Old World, and it was great.
almost-total solitude Read More »
I have the back row to myself
I said,
Some of this, I am RAPIDLY realizing, is about enslavement to material things
I took along so little of what I have
And still it is far far far too much
I have the back row of the upper deck of this seven-hour bus to Berlin to myself, which feel auspicious
Not even auspicious
Itʼs just plain good, in real time
There is WiFi, evidently, and outlets, and I packed multiple sandwiches of Ingaʼs refrigerator dregs and thought to buy extra water, and Iʼm hopeful
Iʼll make lists, and maybe friends with the sweet boy who, with me, was last to board and is now settled in ahead of me and to the left
Maybe I will offer him some of my seats, as he only has two while I have five
It looks like he let his guitar be put with the luggage, though, so I will not ask if he knows any Decemberists
I have the back row to myself Read More »
the yellow flowers to stop
I’m in the back of a bus to Berlin, I told him, wondering how they get the yellow flowers to just stop all of a sudden.
What? he said, and I sent him a picture on the telephone of what I was looking at, Danish meadows dense with something that made them yellow, totally, until with a disorganized border that was obviously following its own orders the yellow thing stopped growing and a green thing began. Swirls of color. Waves washing on a shore.
I think that stuff is called “rapeseed,” he wrote back.
I said, Thank god.
He said, There must be a better name for it.
I said, How could there possibly be a better name for anything at all ever?
I said, Murderplant.
I said, Punching people in the facetree.
the yellow flowers to stop Read More »