A Theory of Personality
There is a cat inside my cat; there is an orange
inside this orange. I keep the lid on tight except
when I'm sleeping, so I nap all day, under my
desk, in the ladies' room, on my boss's sweet
carpet when he is at lunch. Then I arrive home
to hit the couch and sleep again, but I am too
hungry to sleep. My commute is literally killing
me -- crossing the street is risking the loss of one
or two limbs, or even your head or ears. The angry
bus drivers sit waiting on every corner, their feet
hovering above the gas. I'm so wound up I grind
my teeth down to my gums. I'm so eager to dream
I sprinkle plastic fairy dust on my cupcakes. I
would keep the lid on tight if I hadn't lost it. You
know what going "postal" means. Sometimes a letter
is just a random collection of vowel sounds. I took
a workshop on filing off your fingerprints at the
New School. There is a story inside this story.
Great. It's a skill managing to turn the simmering, barely containable mortal terror that is our daily lot into art. Specially if you're writing it at 2.00am, just minutes away from the time when, or so they say, people still awake perceive most the utter bankruptcy of their existence.
ReplyDeleteoh lawdy... haven't i just had those days when i could do with a generous dash of dust on the cupcakes... and days when the lid may never be found again.
ReplyDeletei love the 'rambling' quality of this one... and look forward to the next one.