The House of Death Floats By
I need a second to catch my breath.
I came in early this morning to write about the most gorgeous dream I've had in years, if not the most gorgeous of my whole entire life. It was Heaven. Where I'd like to be forever and ever.
There's a clock ticking here in my ear. An antique clock my sister gave me, or maybe it's not antique, just looks antique. Fake-antique. Tick-tocking. It counts the seconds, and it's rattling through my office, with, each, and, every, single, word, little, tick, tocks...typing, ticking, tocking!
Driving me insane!!
I've been reading all morning, listening to something other than the clock; something else my sister gave me: a mix-tape AKA burnt CD she made just for me. It's full of sad bastard goodness.
She really gets me.
I can't get away from this tick-tocking, now tossed beneath my desk.
I have another full day today. Mind-numbing, lonely, busy.
I was reading...
I came to my friend Fil's blog, and he shook me up real good with his latest post, It's all Transitional.
Isn't it though.
I broke down in tears.
He's an amazing writer.
After that, I found some good news, but nothing's sinking in just yet. It hadn't rightly sunk in, the bad news, that is, and now all the news, good bad and inbetween, is just piling up on me...
I can't breathe.
I wanted to spend the rest of my morning writing letters. They're pilled up too because I'm a horrible friend. Extremely selfish. I want to be in touch and stay in touch with people who shouldn't like me.
Instead I posted photos...only to find that my photoblog had crashed, and it was the last straw to break my tired back, so I pulled out my copy of Huck Finn and read. Thanks to Fil for reminding me of rafts and rivers, all the greatness that Mark Twain gave us, and the dream:
"Oh, well, that's all right, because a dream does tire a body like everything sometimes. But this one was a staying dream;"
..."we would pull through and get out of the fog and into the big clear river..."
That's what I want.
A clear river.
A staying dream.
I'm off to be busy, lonely, numb, and far from this emotion-driven piece of writing that is a waste of both our time. I thought it would cheer me up, be a release, but it's not and it didn't.
Let's forget it.
I'm throwing the clock downstream.
5 comments:
Heavily edited now. I would have done so yesterday, but Baby-bot woke up before I could really give it a good read (cough-cough, delete it).
...
Happy Saturday!
~ Ash
perfect - gives me a reason to re-read it this morning. :) (and the new post below!)
Heidi
Where to start, where to start. I've read a great swathe of you just now and I'm possibly too full, engorged, to make sense.
You're such a wondrous writer Ashley, it's a joy to know you. Truly truly truly, you have such an eye, such an ear for beautiful and/or painful things that should be expressed.
Over (much too strong) coffee (that's now making me exceedingly jumpy and jittery) with BB earlier today we spoke of your wisdom and skills, and how you've got a few years on us, how good will you be by the time you're an old, old thirty?? I think that's what we were saying. My blood sugar and caffeine levels are all over the place. I can't see straight.
Seriously can caffeine be bad for you?
Pledging to life, to not killing any of the yous is something I salute and applaud. I shared a 'let's not kill ourselves' pledge once, keeping the promise has, at crucial times, been more important to me than escaping the pains. So make sure you don't forget those words. It's a promise and I'm your witness, so don't let me down and disappear, y'hear?
Love to you, Jemimey xxx
I can't see straight either...ain't it grand? ;)
I'll reply as soon as I can.
Thanks for being such a great friend to me, Jemimey.
You too Heidi!
Either everything's rhyming tonight or I'm WAY drunker than I think I am. ;)
i can vouch as a second witness to our conversation about you - we both think you're utterly wondrous and are a little bit jealous that you got there so much quicker than us old hags ;-)
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