concrete-turned-qbert.jpg

Last night I drank coffee obsessively at eight or nine o’clock, twice as much as I would normally drink in the morning. I felt dark, haunted, empty (there was nothing working inside me). I didn’t fall asleep until sometime after two o’clock, after lying in bed for hours (what did I expect?). Today walking to the café to get some work done, the first time I’d left my house in over twenty-four hours, the first time I’d set an intention to do any work, I felt angry, confused, dark, focussed, light, upset. Earlier in the day I’d sent a text message to H: a kind of cry for help, I realized only after the message was sent. I didn’t ask for help. I asked for a meeting the following week (what I wanted was to be comfortable with her) (what I wanted was to turn back the clock) (when we were together I didn’t know how to be both at ease with her and myself, as if those two things—which should be the most natural companions—were somehow at odds with each other) (I let other’s intentions get in the way of what I wanted, or to confuse what I wanted—I felt bad for feeling flattered). When I think about her, when I think about her family, when I think about A (her best friend) and the fact that we don’t seem to be communicating anymore: I wonder, can I go back? I wanted to go back. At the same time I want to give it all up—everything. Give up everything I know. Did I do anything wrong? I was miserable. But perhaps I didn’t protect it. And if I didn’t protect it—what didn’t I protect it from?

cjg3tqlct1bcm45xw3143yf54-protestarmeniaday4-20180416-06.full

I dreamed last night of attending a kind of concert, a concert that was also somehow ballet, in a foreign country. I wanted to go because I knew, somehow, even though both of us were in a different country than the one we lived in, that X would be there. I thought if I saw X there, if I surprised them as well as myself, I’d be given a chance to get to know them a little better… I thought that perhaps the circumstances of being in a different city, a different country, one that was across the Atlantic, would stimulate a development in our relationship… For some reason I was at the concert with my friend Glen, from high school, who I wanted to leave behind in order to join X, but who I also know I could not leave behind. I had an obligation to him even though he didn’t really understand. We had the worst seats possible and X had the best—the stage was obscured by a bank of seats (inverse to their regular arrangement, “descending” from overlooking the front of the stage rather than ascending from the stage in order to provide a better view). The stage could not be seen by anyone who was not in the first row of seats: everyone else was forced only to listen, and the further away from the stage the worse the acoustics. But the sound was produced not only by instruments but also by the movement of the dancers, who were instruments themselves. I wanted to join X to get access to the dance that was going on behind the wall. But there was a sense that we did not belong. At some point I moved to a different seat, closer but still far from X, I could only see a portion of the action—heads, feathers attached to costumes… What does this dream mean? What’s the action that I’m trying to reach and why do I see X as my conduit to it? Now I’m sitting across from X in the library. I had no idea they would be here, I’d hoped only for someone, anyone. I feel incredible clarity, a sense of purpose… What I want is this: to arrange myself into a clarity. To become what I want. To reach the top of the bank of seats without needing anyone else. And to find someone else sitting there (whether that is X or someone else).