The enforced stone age keeps me
prolific. I can't sleep until the sun sets, I can't cook creatively,
I can't send words across continents in seconds; I'm in a different
world. In this world, I read until I'm chased from my bed by the
threat of a premature nap that will leave me thrashing in the heat of
this room until midnight. I go outside and throw metal webs in the
air until a wick comes loose and I undo my hair to fix it. In my bed
again, the wind is soft on my back and cools the bruise on my elbow.
One diary closes, and another opens.
All day I feel like prey. Only in
moments of happiness, usually occurring halfway through a certain
special incendiary tune, do I feel powerful. I feel agentive. But it
fades because I'm following a path and everyone is watching where my
feet land. What are they watching? Are they watching something they
fear, something they admire, or something they have a vague distaste
for? I feel like an international savage, like my very presence is an
affront to as-it-should-be.
They want. They speak to me and I see
desire and it angers me. If I don't see desire, I can't imagine what
they mean and I invent desire to justify my disinterest.
I don't see faces that I want to see
again or even stop and examine for an instant. Only one person
(outside of the workplace), in a short interaction, did I want to
learn from. He sat in a pile of books, and told me to come back at
the beginning of the next month if I wanted to sell some of my
library. I didn't feel like a savage. I felt like a spirit.
Today a man began slowly. He said my
fans looked like a birds foot. Then he wanted to see me on Saturday,
whenever I 'played.' I don't understand what they are grasping at. I
love to let people I only barely touch back into the randomness of
the world. I love to watch our understandings step away from each
other and infect outwards. I imagine them later, at moments that
don't announce themselves, and it is a rich feeling.
My desire doesn't come when it's
called. She hates to hear her name before she introduces herself.
When anyone demands her, she ceases to exist.
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