A charm invests a face Imperfectly beheld. The lady dare not lift her veil For fear it be dispelled. But peers beyond her mesh, And wishes, and denies, ‘Lest interview annul a want That image satisfies. -Emily Dickinson You do know that what you see is carefully edited. So much is behind the veil. So much is left out. Context. Wars, scandals, legislation. So many words. No need to report …
With each step, the hallway doubles in length. Behind each door is the possibility of the man. Maybe behind each door. She can’t escape him. Turning around doesn’t seem to matter. “Am I turning at all?” “You’re thinking.” The hall recedes and disappears into a spoon in a cup.
Everything has something that makes them tick. Sometimes it’s a battery. Sometimes that battery is dead. Thought there were words enough there to get a story going. Sometimes that battery is dead. So there is the review of the day, the asking of feeling, maybe a revisiting of memory and looking for holes. Perhaps it is safe to visit the box labeled “dead to me” for some thing, some spark, …
“You’re thinking.” he said. Coming back to the physical world is swimming to the surface from the bottom of a swamp. She lets it go. Reluctantly. That pearl of thought is lost. Never very good at holding on to ephemera, even the stuff that lives inside her mind. Cute. Okay. He can be forgiven for interrupting that particular reverie. Seems unimportant now. It turns out it really was important, but …
ENTRY # 2569 I kept waking up and going back to bed until it was right. The first time was around 6 and who knows what monkeys were inhabiting my brain before I opened my eyes, but I woke up crying, Not the sobbing cathartic kind, just a quiet hopeless kind. The dog was concerned. I checked my computer for stories and to see if anything had changed – it …
ENTRY # 2542 I am not surprised that the Capuchin sounds like Pat Morita. (The other option would have been James Earl Jones, but the Capuchin does not have the authority of God.) Depending on whether or not I want to take what he is about to say seriously, I can either channel Mr. Miyagi or Arnold. I have placed the photograph unmolested back into the box. The woman and …
ENTRY # 2539 From where I am right now, I cant imagine a resolution to the story. This is where semi-autobiographical fiction can take its turn, because even I hate watching it unfold in real time. The head monkeys were never very precise. They were just a wall of internal noise. Now that Ive given them character, I kinda have to make something up. Still dont know what they (as …
ENTRY # 2533 What if I open a box? I havent tried this before. The attic is dusty and cool. It smells like an attic, of memory. My home is a jumble, but the stack of the actively forgotten is ordered and arranged. Funny how the mind is. For this experiment I look for Beyond Care. Not a mere Dont Care Anymore. I wonder if the residual anger is telling …
ENTRY # 1875 Wz.v1 Monkeys chitter in head screaming things like “Unworthy!” and “”Unqualified!” and “Ugly!” Wz.v1 acknowledges the nonsensicalness of monkey chitter Physical and emotional reactions are stuffed into some deep dark hole Happy face engaged Wz.v2 Monkeys chitter in head screaming things like “Unworthy!” and “”Unqualified!” and “Ugly!” Wz.v1 acknowledges the nonsensicalness of monkey chitter TO OTHER PERSON Physical and emotional reactions are allowed to vent. Happy face …
ENTRY # 1675 The blue anteater, the white monkey and gold raccoon sit on my chest poking me. “See, I told you she was stuck.” I try to lift my arm. Its too hot. I cant move it. The blanket is too heavy. “See, I told you,” the raccoon says. I am thinking that if they would just get off my chest, then maybe I could do something. The boarder …
