24 November, 2006

in the begining

When I got back from Scotland I moved into a place on Tacoma Circle. Asheville was booming, and I could no longer afford to live alone. I began with scrubbing the floors and putting up the blue dishes. I was hanging tab curtains on a tree branch when
Raymond called. He casually mentioned that two planes had crashed into the Twin Towers in the Financial District of Manhattan.
My eyes focused into the afternoon view of the yard from my window,the leaves had yet to turn... It didn’t register for a few moments as I bounced off the iron bed and wandered around the house in no particular fashion.
“How Awful.”

Later in the day Dad came by to meet with me over some Cokes down at the faux European deli. We sat outside, looking at each other.
He was there out of parental duty, offering cheery cola. I was there virtually unaffected
by much of anything. On occasion I could hear the sounds of my own failure seep to the top of my cognation, a momentary vacation from sordid world affairs. I would beat it down with selfish embarrassment. I looked at Dad. He was expecting the crying to begin. Generally, it was a disappointing day for all.

Later that night I called Milton in Brooklyn to see how he was faring. He told me had lost his job due to the day’s event. We sat there on our phones drinking cheap beer while he
spun records to accent our conversation. It was stream of conscious and nice to finally get along with him.
The next time I saw Milton it all seemed a distant memory. He was in town showing off his Brooklyn girlfriend. She had great hair, and he knew it. I sat on the floor watching it all go down like a spectator at baseball game. I sat cross legged and wore black. As though that was enough.
I hung my first solo show in October. The lighting was poor. Upscale bar lighting I guess.
The only reason I noticed, was because a man abruptly informed me of this on opening night. I had quit brushing my teeth on a regular basis, in some sort of expression of my growing condition. I had a friend who hadn’t brushed his teeth in what looked like to be years. The dentist had to use all sorts of torture devices to clean up his smile. The funny thing is he rarely smiled. He was a smirker. Maybe this was why.
The mental process that led me to this conclusion, also led me to brushing my teeth again.

One night I had an unusual dream. I dreamed that Jesus Christ came into my bedroom and got into my bed. He snuggled with me. It was the best. I don’t remember us spooning, but I do remember that he wore a transparent cloth that looked like honey gold. It kind of shimmered as he was.
I woke up feeling like I had been awake as I slept. As I pulled my comforter of the old iron bed, I thought of Saints, and wondered if I was finally going to get my big break. Life was going to trust forth with immense importance now that I had slept with Jesus.

I laid the bed comforter out on our patchy Montford lawn, and folded in to reread a recentletter Kyanne had sent. She was telling me that I was
immensely loved and meaningful. This was good to hear after such a dramatic autumn.
Time was moving forward. I had begun graduate school for Public Affairs. I was trying to ensure a future by attempting to pay for it on credit. Everyone around me was unruly.Drinking to oblivion, working long hours, living off of school loans, and writing for papers proclaiming the beginning of the end of the world,general absurdity.

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