Sunday, January 27, 2008

The Rain

It won't stop raining. I am ill with the desire to make it stop. Wind and wetness lash against the window pane. The shades are down. I wont look. I can only hear it: nature doing what it must unforgivingly. Violence. Malevolence. Rain. It makes me feel fragile.

When I was a child I'd swing the window open and stare out at the heavy, grey sky without really looking. All I wanted was to feel the wind and the light sprays of moisture against my face. I can't do that anymore. It reminds me of the melancholy I felt as a child. I don't know what I was melancholic about. There was nothing but my innocence. It must have been the greater sensitivity, but I don't know what that is either, or rather, I don't know if it can be explained. The greater sensitivity: it's empathy with an unknown cause.

In the car the rain would stream down the windshield. The child's eyes would follow the progression of a raindrop to its final conclusion. Poetic fluidity. A raindrop sliding down a window pane is inimitable, irreplaceable. Maybe that's what the greater sensitivity is: to be taken by a raindrop.

Monday, January 21, 2008

Malady II

Recently I've been afflicted by indecision. It occurs at random, with the simplest things, like choosing produce in the supermarket, or deciding which shade of lipstick to wear, or what to do with myself after I finish a certain task.

Soon I shall be immobile. I've already become more silent, and I was already silent.

Choosing the right words, that's the hardest. Too many synonyms, and then there are the tenses.

With indecision comes the requisite exasperation. Painful deliberation - Yes, No, Yes, No, Maybe, I don't know, Whatever.

It gets more dangerous with the opposite sex. I should stop seeing them before my ability to discern fails me completely. It already happens with M. Sometimes I let him do all the deciding. He says it's because I trust him.

"What do you want?" , he might ask.
"I want what you want," will be the unvarying response. I hate how it makes me seem submissive. The only time this response varies is when it concerns sexual desire. There's no mistaking that. You either want it or you don't.

He asks what I want. I say "this" and make a grab at his crotch, wrap my legs around him, kiss him, take him in my mouth, etc. - That's the only thing I really say yes too, and I say it often, for the sake of certainty. Which makes me wonder at unhealthy forms of self-affirmation.