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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


05.19.03, tuesday night

Jimmy is mad at me; You don't listen, he says. I do, but I知 absentminded. I'm everywhere, elsewhere, anywhere. I知 without anchor. I'm adrift in a sea and nowhere close to shore.

I need a job. I need to make rent. I need a drink. Or I need to read more. Or I need more coffee. I need my mother, who is mad at me; she suspects I知 having sex with a man and it痴 true, I am. I need to beat my brother up, for disowning me (as if it was that easy) and telling my mother that I live with Jimmy. I also need a hug, but Jimmy is not only mad at me, he thinks he has poison oak.

I need to learn the mechanics of time, so I can go back and look at the lunar eclipse I missed; Jimmy would have told me to look out a window but he was chatting with a worker outside Svenhardt痴. He found out three facts: 1) no pictures may be taken inside the factory, 2) Mr and Mrs Svenhardt live in the factory and 3) a guard patrols the premises, armed to shoot anyone seeking snail cakes for a snack, dinner.

I知 needy when I remember to be needy. I知 needy for attention, solitude, a trek through forest, a sailboat and an ocean to sail upon - Pacific, Atlantic, any ocean would do.

But I know, I know that if I get my ocean, I値l want an anchor. I値l want to find the shore, any shore will do, but nonetheless a shore. And. So. There it is: back to the beginning and Jimmy is still mad at me; You don稚 listen. You listen as much as a turd.

Maybe I should cut back on the wilderness of my needs. My neediness. Cut my attachments, one by one, down to the necessary ones. Find out what lies at the roots, after all these years. Long, long ago, I was a little girl who wanted to make some voodoo when she grew up; enchant with language, prick with care all the necessary places and find water.






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