TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile
Paper traces sent me dreaming:Read Toni Morrison's novel Sula, I thought about those unsettling presences of absence, of things lost or ruptured: history, innocence, trust, communities, belief systems, etc.
Walking through decrepit, crumbling houses, I wonder if this is what I feel, these ghosts, the psychic remnants of births, deaths, moments of tenderness or betrayal and former feuds and loves, all contentious, all vying for my attention.
I live in a place overrun with ghosts.
Spanning a large Victorian house, my attic rattles with the anxieties, dreams and fleeting ecstasies of the grad students and trust-fund kids and hippie babies who love and fight and sleep below me.
Sometimes I get sad or unsettled for no apparent reason, my body a birdcage, rattling with potential and past selves.