Passing Time
Feb. 7th, 2007 10:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraNot a good day yesterday. Not a good day at all.
Feel like I'm doing twenty to life in a prison cell upon whose walls they – "they!" – are projecting intensely realistic 3-D videos of my house, the store, the afternoon drive to Colton to pick up the kid.
The only place that feels real is the beach. When this part of my life is over and done with – which one way or another it will be – I will owe a special debt of thanks to Milo the dog. Watching him prance and play on the sand keeps me sane. It's my reminder that there is joy in the simple fact of existence.
I am writing my acceptance speech for the Bardo Award ceremonies now! "Nominations for Noblest Life Lived Under Extremely Trying Circumstances: Nelson Mandela For 'Twenty-three Years In a Windowless Cell Fighting Racial Injustice!'"
Applause. Camera cuts to Nelson holding hands with Oprah. She's in purple Dolce and Gabana.
"'John McCain for Five Years In the Bamboo Pit!'"
He's holding hands with Laura Bush.
"The envelope please. And the winner: Patrizia for the Year of Living Dangerously!'"
Cut to Scenes From the Life: our heroine fielding yet another unpleasant phone call from a persistent creditor. "Yes, I know I owe you [insert amount of money that is actually not that huge but is beyond my present capacity to pay]. I have every intention of paying you and I believe I will be in a position to do so in the foreseeable future. Why, no, I can't give you a definite date. Can't you just trust me because I'm beautiful, sensitive and kind and I actually wept when Leo got shot in The Departed – I mean, that poor guy. First he drowns on the Titanic and then fucking Good Will Hunting takes him out –"
Use the time you have now, I keep telling myself. And I've made some progress – particularly on that mountain of papers all of which need to be sorted and filed and kept on record in the event that tax information is suborned at some future date.
But I'm not really thinking linearly right now. Big projects? Website redesign? Redraft of the business plan? Fugeddaboutit. Instead I Google ex-boyfriends and serial killers – no overlap there – and fantasize about projecting myself backwards in time to that exact moment when I made the Bad Choice that culminated in this Bad Present Tense.
String theory and numerous Twilight Zone episodes argue that this is possible. Assuming there was one bad choice.
If life were a piece of music, you could play it over and over again until you get it right. I remember this as the first line of Joyce Johnson's wonderful Kerouac memoir, Minor Characters.
If I didn't make it up, then it is my second favorite opening line on all of literature, my favorite being L.P. Harley from The Go-Between: The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.
This, too, shall pass. This too.
Feel like I'm doing twenty to life in a prison cell upon whose walls they – "they!" – are projecting intensely realistic 3-D videos of my house, the store, the afternoon drive to Colton to pick up the kid.
The only place that feels real is the beach. When this part of my life is over and done with – which one way or another it will be – I will owe a special debt of thanks to Milo the dog. Watching him prance and play on the sand keeps me sane. It's my reminder that there is joy in the simple fact of existence.
I am writing my acceptance speech for the Bardo Award ceremonies now! "Nominations for Noblest Life Lived Under Extremely Trying Circumstances: Nelson Mandela For 'Twenty-three Years In a Windowless Cell Fighting Racial Injustice!'"
Applause. Camera cuts to Nelson holding hands with Oprah. She's in purple Dolce and Gabana.
"'John McCain for Five Years In the Bamboo Pit!'"
He's holding hands with Laura Bush.
"The envelope please. And the winner: Patrizia for the Year of Living Dangerously!'"
Cut to Scenes From the Life: our heroine fielding yet another unpleasant phone call from a persistent creditor. "Yes, I know I owe you [insert amount of money that is actually not that huge but is beyond my present capacity to pay]. I have every intention of paying you and I believe I will be in a position to do so in the foreseeable future. Why, no, I can't give you a definite date. Can't you just trust me because I'm beautiful, sensitive and kind and I actually wept when Leo got shot in The Departed – I mean, that poor guy. First he drowns on the Titanic and then fucking Good Will Hunting takes him out –"
Use the time you have now, I keep telling myself. And I've made some progress – particularly on that mountain of papers all of which need to be sorted and filed and kept on record in the event that tax information is suborned at some future date.
But I'm not really thinking linearly right now. Big projects? Website redesign? Redraft of the business plan? Fugeddaboutit. Instead I Google ex-boyfriends and serial killers – no overlap there – and fantasize about projecting myself backwards in time to that exact moment when I made the Bad Choice that culminated in this Bad Present Tense.
String theory and numerous Twilight Zone episodes argue that this is possible. Assuming there was one bad choice.
If life were a piece of music, you could play it over and over again until you get it right. I remember this as the first line of Joyce Johnson's wonderful Kerouac memoir, Minor Characters.
If I didn't make it up, then it is my second favorite opening line on all of literature, my favorite being L.P. Harley from The Go-Between: The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.
This, too, shall pass. This too.
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 06:45 pm (UTC)Butch, the chief of the lesbian kidnap gang, nudged me with her shoulder. Her own gun was at about the level of her thighs. "Keep the gun pointed down unless you really need to have it up. It's easier on the wrists."
This wasn't the first time Butch appeared to read my mind, but the shock must have shown on my face. Butch got a stern look and said "Are you ready for this? I mean really ready? Cause I'll tell ya, once we walk in, there's no turning back." Her eyes locked onto mine.
My heart fluttered at her gaze. What was happening to me: I hadn't felt this thirteen since I was thirteen. "Yeah," I said. "I can do it." But I had to look away.
Butch sniffed. "Alright then," she said. "Let's fuckin' do it!" With a whoop, she ran into the bodega.
"¡Manos arriba!¡Esto es un robo!" she shouted. Or was that me?
no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 11:34 pm (UTC)http://mallorys-camera.livejournal.com/178463.html
no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 07:02 pm (UTC)i'm glad you've got milo to make sure you
get your r.d.a of beach time.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 11:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 07:09 pm (UTC)When I'm sitting in the tower, I love to watch people's souls interact with whatever makes the beach such a special place. If only I didn't have to enforce the "no dogs" rule....
Aloha,
Jeff
no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 11:51 pm (UTC)Aloha,
Jeff
no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 07:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-07 11:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-08 12:52 am (UTC)I think the Bad Choice in the past that led to the Bad Present Tense may be illusion, just a conceit of the ego. Maybe shit just happens.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-08 03:57 pm (UTC)Although it could be argued that my childhood was so fucked up that really it's a miracle I didn't flame out in my twenties.