arcite's day

Arcite's now Busy Killing Abel.

363: "But I'm not done yet" (Minuet). Midnight. The rain was said to lash againt the window like a Mancunican charwoman throwing her dregs out on the flags. I was dreaming of waves looking at the red light of the transitor radio floating like a buoy in the room's dark ocean. The concert programme was on softly playing a string concerto that tightened all the nerves down my back--just to be sure that you're sleeping alone--Beckett's Molloy on the bedside table laughing at me like an unlucky deal. The concerto sounds like Minuit breaks: linear progression was always a dream of the jingle when we're all really spinning around in eliptical loops coming back to same spot in the path but a little older for the journey. We're all looking for a place to defect to away from all our own defections. But we find ourselves back in the same place, a little older, not quite done yet. Just to be sure.

364: mountainous, battleship grey breakers, you ride them waiting for them to push you down. Don't raise your arms above your head, don't open your mouth so wide.

365. couting down the days. just for the sake of it. to stop you forgetting, in your mother's room, the papers coming and going. not working for money. midnight in the middle of a bad week. rain at the window. candles. you count so as to reassure yourself that you are moving on. you count down: starting and stopping, dreaming of loops.

88

"This chaos has consistency." (Minuet).
what i want to do w/ you is loop the loop, play the fool, be the 8 ball in your game of pool/ what i want to do w/ you/ what i want to do. You say it's over now but it's not over at all. it's just days in between. tomorrow and tomorrow's space. see for that future world there could be no coming as it would be that one, the one that didn't arrive. so you are happy now? well all i see in myself really are loops playing the fool. wasting time. getting off the writing space for the others. the work that needs to be done, the room that needs to cleaned, the bed that needs to made. but what i want to do with you. what i want 2 do

"...left with a mark on the door."

Moving along in our God given ways
Safety is sat by the fire
Sanctuary from these feverish smiles
Left with a mark on the door

Is this the gift that I wanted to give
Forgive and forget's
what they teach
I'll pass through the deserts and waste -
lands once more
And watch as they drop by the beach

I. Curtis

I am scared

Colin McCahon