Recent Entries Garion born; thinking of doing video logs - 2012-09-01 I'm married, I'm a prospective father, wow I never update - 2012-05-22 Got the job at the NIA; mother complicates wedding plans - 2011-10-13 Scrawl - 2011-08-05 It's never been better - 2011-06-02
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Maidens Three 2002-12-06 - 7:08 p.m. 
Pushing through another night, monitor refresh waves flickering out of the corner of my eye. If I had past lives, I wonder if I sat just like this, bent over a table by candlelight, raucous echoes from a pub across the way filtering through thick, ornate windows. A few horses pass below as the nightwatchman watches my candle flickering, distorted and warped, like a beacon of hope as the chill soaks him.Sometimes in the middle of the night, I lean backward and close my eyes. I can feel my back roll against a patch of pebbles and dirt. The color of night in my head doesn't stay constant, but the stars remain varied, countless. Suddenly I begin to think about spiders and I see a woman before me: mid-20's, mousy brown hair, dark brown eyes, calm but fiery as she lies diagonally from me, touching at the head. I can remember the first time visualizing her: back in Boston last year. I couldn't stand going to sleep at night and imagining gargantuan spiders crawling up to me, dull lifeless eyes scanning me with no apparent movement, my body numb in watching the distended fangs casually drip as one or several towered over my perspective. I'd always hated spiders. So I began trying to imagine a wolf spider taking the form of a woman, something I could talk to, puzzle out the fear and images that plagued me every night. And so now, every so often, I remember her and she is here, laying her long brown hair against my face. Sometimes another woman comes from a nearby grove or over a hill. Hers is a face I've had a thousand guesses at, but I can never make it out. Her hair is white-gold fire, somber until the moonlight mixes with it like liquiescent gunpowder. She is more vague to me, always roughly the same age as I am. I used to imagine she might be the one I would feel truly contended with. Over the years, though, I stopped asking why and just enjoyed whatever it is she represents. Half a dream even in my head, she lay down opposite the brown-haired girl and wreathes me in silken fire. And finally I sometimes see a plucky young woman, hair long and like the ocean when light hits it at midday. In her eyes I can see the red-domed rooftops of skyscrapers, flurorescent mists in the sky like an urban canopy from Bladerunner. I smell the future in her. She lays down with her head next to mine like the other two, but far away as possible, like a water molecule. Tiny electric trills buzz through every strand of her hair, a mainframe perm discarding electrons like fast food bags. Brown, white-gold and light ocean blue, filtering the sky. Its as if their colors stay the same, but the ones in the night air always change. Somehow I find that comforting. |
