Sunday, March 11, 2007

I need a treat. I need chocolate. I need chips. Or or or…I don’t know what I need. I need a treat. Something to mark the hour that will not be marked. For otherwise, how would the day pass? Imagine if you will, a ruled notebook. The ordinary kind with A4 sheets and pale black lines. Two dark ones on the top and a single dark line running from top to bottom cutting the necks of the pale black running mavens. And now mark time on it. To the left. Nine hundred hours. And then ten hundred. And then eleven, then twelve.

Now do it my way. At nine I will wake up. At nine fifteen, I will check email and he will have written to me. At nine thirty, I will wash and crap and brush my teeth. The world will smell and feel better; not so sleep ridden and sweat drenched. And my stomach will be empty. Such a nice feeling that; when you’ve woken up and emptied your bowels and know that food is but ten minutes away. The butter soft and the bread warm, the eggs sizzling and the juice waiting, cold and just so. The table as always will be a mess. I will ruffle my hair, rub my eyes and attempt to create a decrowd my dining/study table so I can set my deep plate down and quiet my tummy.

I read Murakami to my class last week. I read them the line that said that he saw her and his mouth went dry as a desert and his stomach rumbled. That’s how I feel right before breakfast. It’s the only certainty that governs my life at this point. And even that is sometimes uncertain.

No comments: