|
2001-07-04 / 11:51 p.m. ~Steve hears the sound of his own voice, and it sounds like one hand clapping~
Not long after I write to him he calls. He hasn't even read what I wrote, doesn't even know I wrote it, but he calls, like there's some sort of telepathy at work, and he says this is how it goes, isn't it? That we're in touch like this. Yes, I suppose it is. I don't know why he called, but at first I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his voice, thinking, yes, this was what I wanted, I wanted him to call, I thought he might, and I don't know why, I hoped, but what did I even want? What could he possibly give me? Perhaps I was just lonely. He talked, the sound of his voice was all there was, the TV sound muted, but I left the picture there so I'd have something else going on, not only him. He went on and on, and then on some more, and soon I wasn't even responding, didn't make the slightest effort to fill the pauses, knew he'd keep going, and I felt so unattracted, I didn't want anything to do with him, not really. I held the phone, sometimes away from my ear, thinking I could probably set it down on the table and walk away, wash my dishes, log on to the internet, go read my book, anything, and he would still be there talking when I got back. It was so bizarre, like maybe he didn't even realize he'd called me, particularly, like maybe he just dialed a number at random and started in, about his brother, his father, music, art, and occasionally he did remember me, on the other end, and he'd ask what I liked. What painters did I like? What sort of Classical recordings did I inherit from my father? And I'd become alive, animated, like a person, and I'd talk and I'd hear myself and think of times when people wanted to know what I think, what I feel, but knew that this was not one of those times. This went on, for 2 1/2 hours, and I watched fireworks on TV, and noted that the rain held off, but almost the second they were over it came down, a grand thunderstorm, and I used this as my excuse to excuse myself. I said I was afraid of the lightning, and I was, I was on a corded phone, and I was, and he said we'd talk again, and I thought yes, YOU will talk again, no doubt. YOU have so much to say, I can be your listener, some other time when you choose to do this again. "Proximity without intimacy". Yes. Hell. I hung up and listened to a Bouzouki record, music from Greece, and wished I were in Greece, drinking Retsina wine and eating lamb, staring out at the moon almost full, hanging above the Mediterranean Sea. Cost of the War in Iraq
(JavaScript Error)
Recent Entries: It Was 40 Years Ago Today - 9:44 a.m. , Friday, Oct. 12, 2012 Dead Black Cat - 9:07 a.m. , Wednesday, Jan. 25, 2012 As Seen From Outer Space - 1:07 a.m. , Saturday, Dec. 05, 2009 I Survived to Tell the Tale - 7:29 a.m. , Friday, Sept. 18, 2009 Reading My Life - 12:55 p.m. , Saturday, Sept. 12, 2009 
  |