it’s only 830p and i am alone on the island. down the street there is a party going on. on the steps of the Hemingway-esque house, there are women in beaded black dresses. there are women with flat hair from the rain and men are taking their arms and walking them through the glass doors to the temporary bar in the corner, with some red headed boy in a starched white shirt. i know all of this because i am sitting on a bench by the bay, across the street from the house with the party.
and i cannot decided which direction is more useful to look. out: the sky is black and low and there is no shape to this. the world has no angle. the waves are grey-faced and grimy the lights are of buildings along bayshore. in: the party. there is a valet stand for this party. there are no decorations. there is no punchbowl and no one is dancing. it’s a pretty dull party but there are boys in the yard chain smoking because there are no more guests arriving, no more cars to park and run away from.
i have a terribly dull headache. and i read myself far too much into anything, which is why i cannot read anything anymore or at least right now by anyone i know. lately i have been trying to interact more with the outside of things. but the more outside i am, the more separate i feel. my dad just came home from the hospital and he has 60 staples in his stomach. my dad is pretty sure that i am going to be somebody. he says things are going to come together and things like this. i drink coffee and prefer to talk about other things. i think about other things like how when i talk to my parents they take everything i say figuratively and when i talk to everyone else in the world, the world takes it literally, and how difficult it is for me to live in a place like that.
i really want to be off the map. this afternoon it rained and i was bike riding along bayshore and the dingy water of the bay was breaking over the ledge and i was getting soaked. wearing a godspeed you black emperor! ripped up tee and a brazilian bikini and it was all so funny to me. it was all such a great distraction. this bike riding. but now looking into other people’s parties, all those expensive and ugly dresses, those colored cummerbunds. i fantasize about the most absurd things. even while looking at this ugly scene on this ugly night, i cannot write a true word about how i feel. the bicycle the kitten the party the clothes its all a distraction. i feel like i am drowning. i feel like i am under the sea with a rock on my chest.
and i fantasize about the most absurd things. like clotheslines on golden days and riding my bike barefoot on the beach and some old man, walking his groceries to his house, stops and gives me the thumbs up (this actually happened yesterday) or wearing just a sweater and goloshes on a boat in Maine. leaning over the side of the boat to touch a whale. even tonight i have to stop myself from the either/or. even tonight i cannot make a decision about anything. i keep thinking that if i wait if i just keep moving faster than fast enough then the world will come crashing into me. i just want to sit in the rain, on this bench, soaked to the core with this pounding headache, and watch all these old people in their dresses and coats, telling myself im glad im not them. im glad im still young. and trying to mean it. if only i could write a word of it. if only one word could be untrue.