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There's
a dull throbbing pain in my head, right side, my right side,
your left, unless we're facing the same way. It starts around
my temple and snakes around my jaw to the back of my neck. If
I apply pressure right behind my ear the pain temporarily disappears,
but is replaced by nausea.
I received an electronic mail from my former girlfriend today.
I'm fairly certain that we broke up last week before I went
out of town. She said she would like to come by tonight after
nine, to pick up her stuff and talk to me. After nine because
she's taking a night class, some kind of computer graphics thing.
I'm looking forward to seeing her but not to having to talk
to her. I generally do like to talk to her, but I don't feel
like talking about our relationship and how fucked up I am and
the things I do are, which is what I know she wants to talk
about. I was angry at her last week, for some reason, but I'm
not now. I'm really not good at maintaining these feelings for
any length of time. I would rather just pick back up where we
left off before the argument.
Things could and should be much easier than they are, that's
how I feel. She doesn't agree. Her life is full of absolutes.
I'm set in my ways as well but I don't hold up any of my habits
and acquired tastes as unquestionable. I know I sound bitter.
I don't think that I am, not about her at least. In general,
sure.
It's three o'clock now. I have about six hours left before I
see her. I'm at work with a hangover. It's difficult to be here.
Two and a half more hours before I can leave. The last two hours
are always tough. Time of course drags when you're waiting on
it. The last 30 minutes aren't bad at all and sometimes I can
even skip out a little early. It's this hangover, the throbbing
dull pain in my head that's making it hard to be here. My eyes
hurt as well, they're very sensitive to the fluorescent lights
here.
So I try and figure how to pass the time. Working is out of
the question as it makes me nauseated. I check my e-mail almost
every other minute hoping someone will give me some diversion,
so far nothing. I do get to listen to c.d.'s here on the computer;
however, right now most music just makes my head ache more.
The only thing I feel up for today is a nice long nap. To lay
on the white sheets, with both the fan and the a/c on and gradually
feel myself slip into unconsciousness is what I crave. It's
very hot in Texas during the Summer.
Tonight it will rain and I will sleep, rolling in dreams as
the rain pounds against the bedroom window. My bed is right
next to a large paned window. The sound of the rain on glass
always relaxes me, even when it's hitting hard, it still soothes,
it still feels soft. I look forward to climbing into my bed,
I can feel the cool sheets on my flesh, my head sinking into
the pillow, my cat purring by my side, netting with his paws.
The fan blowing down from above. Outside clouds will have darkened
even the light of the moon. The sky is a dark cracked vase.
Sleep, the only two places where I've felt as at home is inside
certain women and in a dark, empty bar in the middle of the
afternoon. Time slows down in these places, sometimes disappearing
altogether. A dimly lit bar in the afternoon, solace from the
sun, only you, a few lunch time drinkers, and the bartender.
Its quiet, except for hushed waves of faceless voices in conversation
that wants no meaning or answers and the subliminal radio playing
somewhere hidden. You find a small corner table and sink into
a semi-consciousness so womb-like. Everything is slow, shadows
and liquor, gradually it all reclines inside and around you,
till you too are slouching, anonymous and content.
Almost all the women I've slept with I've felt like I've loved
in some fashion or another. Never slept with anyone I didn't
like, don't think I could, though there's always a first time
and this is in no way meant as an indication of anything outstanding
or superior in my own character. However, a couple of girls
do stand out in my mind as being particularly comforting, women
whose insides felt especially right to me. All that softness,
warm and wet, soft hair, soft skin, soft lips, soft eyes. They
did not even know.
Misogynists are men with unrealistic expectations. Women can
not be other than what they are and what they are is right,
at least in essence, something else gets twisted up sometimes.
And it is really no ones fault. For there is empathy in the
heart of heaven and no love like the love of a mother.
| William
Crain, November 2002 |
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