ne temps pas.
��������� �����winter has begun to shove itself into my consciousness like a belligerent cow, snuffling & snorting as it methodically chews frost-covered cud. time seems compressed.as if last night were the inciting incident (that being the cast party at karen's apartment in portland, wherein i consumed amounts of scotch, wine, beer, and nicotine) the time seems suddenly sped up, whirling off of the wheels and snapping free, an unelastic rubberband -
idlewild sets the sonic soundscape. "you held the world in your arms" - the frenetic sort of spasming music, soundtrack for leaves plummeting at a faster, more indignant rate - the wind picking up, the ferocity of a lion being devoured by old age ... autumn never gives up quietly. the seasons treading heavily down Violence Road - (some other metaphor i used in a play-scene this afternoon .. insomnia revenges sleep tonight, and the nights past - although last night ...
stumbling through various scenes of the party as though colour filters were shifting. at first, sober & exhausted. trying to decide about a costume - suddenly brian walsh is me, jake is corey, corey's wearing a suit, and i throw on a blazer, trading my hat, coat & bag off to brian ... i'm playing the part of mike toth, tonight. and it was a hit. so arriving, a pack of cigarettes -
(momentary anecdote: i tend to bum cigarettes off of people at rehearsals, outside by the green metal door. fall licks our heels, the leaves curling up everywhere. the lighter flicks, a tapping of the conductor's baton against the stand, and then symphonies of smoke curl down into my lungs - and so, going to parties, i always buy a pack of cigarettes. for karmic redistribution.)
-- in my pocket. a lighter. sooner, the molson ice devouring the space between my mouth and stomach. a bit dizzy, sitting with cody by the window -
cody belongs to the dramatis personae, now - a co-worker, and someone i recruited for the deckhands on macbeth - he works for GTV, a media studies major. freshman. a quality of honesty that you don't often get. sitting by the window, on the porch. offering a cigarette. beer in one hand, cigarette in the other. camel light (the everyone-loves cigarette. fleeting idea to smoke parliaments, the art-cigarette) and general joshing about the scene ... talk about random shit, as random as birds overhead.
add one part scotch. suddenly it becomes hard to stand. a taquito, a quiche. laughter. casey re-enters the picture, and gets very honest, as she is wont to do when inebriated -- the noise is kept down because of the small children sleeping in the next building over. eventually, cody & i get up to get some food from inside. i come back, and am snared by mike again.
add the second part scotch. this is when the memory gets fuzzy, tunnelvision incurs itself like speeding trains ... i remember dimly being pressed up against so many women, and the sharp sting of ruth leddy's teeth sinking into the left side of my neck. and then, again. i remember thinking "... oh shit."
the porch was so small. less then five feet across. sliding slipping sidewise to slink by -
exhaustion followed after adding three parts merlot, and shortly thereafter, more cigarettes. -- then, eventual leaving. jake in the front seat. cody next to him. kate beside me.
blackness descended intermittently. walking three blocks to get to jake's car - portland is fuzzy when drunk. the streetlights acquire a layer of fur -
and today slammed into me like something wet & fishlike. the fog descended, my parents flashed in and out of maine's consciousness to see the show. they tried to fix my car. failed. we got it towed to a nearby dealership. should be fixed soon question mark? so much to do.
so much i'm not doing.
i have no time to do life. things feel compressed now, as though tomorrow winter will have usurped the seasonal throne ... the time is commanding, the time is omnipresent, time time time time time.
t - i'm. sighing. a click of the tongue against the teeth, scoldish, and then a long sigh.