The other night I dreamed of a cat, not mine exactly, but a cat, or rather several cats, but one in particular that, when I reached for it, turned into a bird but with bat wings and then lifted out of my reach.
Last night I dreamed I was being strangled by a man I did not know, a man for whom this was not a temporary rush, but one who clearly intended to see me dead. In my effort to escape him, I climbed a deep shelf against the long wall of double paned windows in this large and rather sound-proof room. I kicked him and he bent my arm back, snapping my wrist. I screamed and screamed but hardly a sound came out, as though my sounds were being vacuumed right out.
A smaller set of windows near the ceiling appeared to have once had cranks that would open them, though the handles had been removed. I pinched the end with my good hand until it barely began to open. I screamed again, imploring the row of girls sitting on the other side of the glass to help me. They sat motionless, expressionless, flipping through magazines as though waiting in a doctor's office, twirling their hair and staring at (through?) the activity occurring behind the glass before them as though it were the climax of a television drama.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
crazy lady
Dear Crazy Lady on the #15 this morning:
I'm sure you meant well when you saw me at the bus stop and accused me of being a hooker you saw downtown last night ("I didn't call you a hooker, I said you were trying to get a date.") and I know it confused you when I said I didn't know what you were talking about. I'm sure you meant well when you subsequently broadcast to the entire bus your dismay that I would "lie" to you and that I wasn't interested in "looking out" for myself. I'm sure you meant well, but really, even if I had been the hooker you thought you saw (and I have to wonder, did she simply have red hair or do I really have a doppelganger hooking downtown-- in which case the phrase "I work downtown" is probably a phrase I'd best avoid) do you think your broadcast was at all helpful? Please, kindly shut the fuck up and go back to playing with your mesmerizing bad eighties quattro of horrid eyeshadow.
Thankyouverymuch,
~me
I'm sure you meant well when you saw me at the bus stop and accused me of being a hooker you saw downtown last night ("I didn't call you a hooker, I said you were trying to get a date.") and I know it confused you when I said I didn't know what you were talking about. I'm sure you meant well when you subsequently broadcast to the entire bus your dismay that I would "lie" to you and that I wasn't interested in "looking out" for myself. I'm sure you meant well, but really, even if I had been the hooker you thought you saw (and I have to wonder, did she simply have red hair or do I really have a doppelganger hooking downtown-- in which case the phrase "I work downtown" is probably a phrase I'd best avoid) do you think your broadcast was at all helpful? Please, kindly shut the fuck up and go back to playing with your mesmerizing bad eighties quattro of horrid eyeshadow.
Thankyouverymuch,
~me
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