Sinister: i was wrong, all things considered, and it's taken so long for me to admit it.

[lindsey baker]

hello sinister.

the remembrance of a simple piano progession lingers, and i listen for the 
crickets, now, finally, after days, at an uncertain peace.

everything is quiet, and i have spent the tears i kept at bay for so long. 
talking to my grandma on the phone at one in the morning, i let it all go 
when she told me to, and wept. really and truly. the kind of tears that make 
you feel like you're going to vomit them out rather than cry them out, the 
kind that really mean something.

i was hot and panting, and finally, the whole thing had a purpose.

i told her how i felt so homeless. and she said i was, but not without 
reason or timing. and she was right. i suppose once you get to sixty-five 
you have that kind of certainty, to be right about things.

***

i am tired now, but not ready to sleep on the couch of the newspaper, where 
i have decided to sleep tonight. i looked at the walls around me fifteen 
minutes or so ago and renounced them; they were never my own, and they will 
not be now. and so i left, listening to the absolute stillness of the 
building, knowing that it wasn't absolute. not really. nothing is these 
days, and i know that, too.

walking down the steps outside, i breathed. and the air was cooler, thinner, 
and for one small perfect moment, i felt small. in a good way. walking down 
the winding sidewalk to my car i thought about why they call it a sidewalk, 
why it's a slower lane for the road that takes you somewhere. why people 
walk there, sometimes run, but never get somewhere fast. and i liked it.

i stopped worrying for a moment, and just walked.

***

i watched a movie tonight, and for two hours, thought about nothing else but 
the box in front of me, what was happening there and what would happen. and, 
periodically checking the clock, i suspected the reason people like movies 
so much was because you could stop the motion at any one point and replay 
it. or put it off altogether until another time. or move backwards and do it 
again.

we want everything to be like that, i think, and when we see that everything 
keeps moving one way ahead whether we want it to or not, we want our money 
back.



but we never paid for this, and that's why today is sunday.



and when everything stopped for me as i was moving on the sidewalk, i forgot 
about what i used to be and what i was now and what i will be, and 
concentrated, without effort, on that single moment. each step in and of 
itself, and i was grateful that i could do that.

walk. walking.

maybe i was given something that would take away so i could have moments 
like those; when i am crippled, i will remember.

but then again, when i am crippled, i will have moments. where i just am. 
and that is all.

walking down a sidewalk, anticipating sleep and a soft piano, but not 
running toward them. just stepping and moving and realizing why moving 
pictures are only two-dimensional representations expanded from a footfall 
into the walking of a thousand miles.

i have wondered if the physical pain these past few weeks has been my 
punishment. the manifestation of all that is eating away at me inside. the 
non-justification for my inherent idiocy.

and then and now and then it just doesn't matter anymore.

***

in retrospect, when things begin again, i will wish i could retrace patterns 
and redraw them when i get back to where i started a few months back. i will 
wish again that i could take back the declarations and abstractions to 
simply say that i was lost. and i will not wish to take them back because 
they were untrue -- the things i said still hold, for me, are true and real 
and mine.

but they are unimportant. i cannot persuade moments to be something they are 
not.






i suddenly realize the keys are wet.





tissues.


tissues remedy that.



xxx
lou


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 +-+       "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper           +-+
 +-+  "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+
 +-+    "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000     +-+
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 +-+               Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa                 +-+
 +-+               Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut!                +-+
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