afternoon, shutters closed

here, where i live, a place none of my loved ones are likely to ever see, the windows are a set of french doors – aptly named, as this is france. the shutters are manual, old-school, not the sort you can lift and lower with a crank or a button as i have seen in other places in france, and in israel, too. these fold like a fan & latch – watch your fingers – but don’t worry – the motion of opening & closing will move into your muscle memory, and, before you know it, you won’t remember that the mechanism once seemed strange to operate.

the kind of day it is is this: it is one p.m., nearly, and i have just eaten two hard boiled eggs with ketchup, some toast, and some soup for lunch and, while eating, made a flailingly useless soliloquy (in french) to my roommate, who happened to come home to eat around the same time as i did. i was on about something that was bothering me about work, but realized that blowing off steam & working through feelings in a foreign language sometimes just hurts. rug burn to the brain. a gap between emotion and communication that rips the insides, that shreds them, that makes a sane person wonder if she really is sane, if she still has a part of herself that functions better than a cup of words that is shaken & thrown on the table & arranged before the clock runs out.

the kind of day it is is this: i am sitting in the near-dark of my dormitory room, listening to music that is decidedly sad & unquestionably correlated to feelings about an ex-boyfriend.

the ideal state? that would be: fully relaxing. lying down, letting go everywhere – the muscles behind the neck, those in the jaw, those around the eyes, those in the back of the arms, and in the back of the legs.

water should be the life fluid today, not coffee. if i can believe, somehow, in that, maybe i can have a shot at contending most rationally, most calmly with what has gone away, with what is coming.

or, maybe the goal shouldn’t be contending & rationality – maybe a cup of coffee is exactly what’s in order – because i don’t have enough time now to let go everywhere – so i have to hold on to something – and a little crazy might be exactly the thing.

[phase two]

instant coffee: check.
shutters & windows open: check.
sad music off: check.
deep breaths of fresh air: check.
desire to be elsewhere mitigated by potential remaining in time left in present location: err… working on it…

you see? things are looking up.


About scribblelip

walking down the road with a book of conjugations in my hand.
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