Friday, May 27, 2011
Darling perhaps you can tell that I'm just sitting here pounding the keys as though it were an ancient Smith-Corona. Which sometimes I wish it were (except somehow linked to the internet), or had a laptop, so that I could go out "on location" and type. For a while I used to go out onto the porch or into the garden or to the conservation area (haven't been there in ages) with a notebook & pen, and scribble - but I don't know - you know, I'm much less of a writer than you might imagine. I don't really write at all - except to you, around five. I think about it all day, in a very unformed way though - I never know what I'm going to write. In my past I was acquainted with a mother & son who seemed (as they reported to me) to compose whole chapters and books in their heads, and simply set them down later. That isn't how it is for me at all. I rarely can dream something up, say in the middle of the night - not consciously so, anyway. The only sense I ever have of transcribing my thoughts - is when I've been able to remember, hold on to, a dream from moments before. I haven't noted one in several weeks. I had some that I could recall upon waking a few nights ago - but neglected to write them down - and now they're gone. I'm not sure why I even record (usually) those dreams - it's not as though I ever use them again - well, once I did, in that post I wrote about you and me and the Elvis perfume ad. That was a very cool dream! Now - if I could only invent like that.
Darling, are you home now? I imagine maybe you're unpacking, making a pile for the laundry. I wonder what is your special treat that you like for when you get home, a particular meal perhaps - e.g., on Barefoot Contessa Ina would roast a chicken for Jeffrey every Friday night - that's a nice tradition. But for you having been away a while - where you were was one vivid, immediate reality, with thoughts of home so removed and distant, an alternate world; and now you're back (I presume), and where you were is the strange, alien, place, vacated except in your imagination and even now it feels strange to think of the apartment sitting there, locked, in the darkness, a clock radio face perhaps showing - what - 11:13 - without you.
I wonder what we're having for dinner tonight. Had an okay day, not great. Things here feel held together barely, provisionally, as if with chewing gum & duct tape. I intended to vacuum the house, but after a walk and a workout, and then the day getting hotter, I didn't feel up to it. Plus D & I - speaking of storms - had another stupid fight. After all my exercising I stepped into the shower and washed my hair - only to discover that we had obviously run out of fuel (D wastes shitloads of time a couple of times a week making trips to the gas station for some small quantity of kerosene which he uses to heat our water. We are constantly running out. Only - it's always a surprise to me when there's no hot water - and standing in a cold shower is not a pleasant way to find that out (especially since I had the dishwasher running too - so - what? on cold water?)).
So yes, grumpily, I called him to say that we're out of fuel yet again. Oh, and by the way, the cold water was running brown. So it was just horrible taking this cold shower in brown water. The municipal water system here is f'ed up in ways I don't quite understand - the officials are constantly (and also often without notice) "flushing" pipes - which discolors the tap water.
I mean, it's an annoying nightmare, and at the same time I still have to regard myself as fortunate - for not being a victim in the aftermath of a disaster zone, say. Well, okay, I can make that distinction. But I still don't see why things are so seemingly precarious here. Yes, I gave out - my ability, wherewithal, willingness to go out and make a living - that's gone. What would I do here? What I do, what I seem able to do at this point is just what I'm doing.
I don't wish my life to resemble an Edward Albee play, particularly not a famous one with a bitter Elizabeth Taylor warring with hapless Richard Burton.
But. I've said this before - D & I were happy for many years, and now we're not.
Oh good God. I don't mean to go down this road - though obviously it's something I think about as my day goes on -
On a brighter note, I took one more pass at blouse shopping for the black skirt I found yesterday - and found a nice top - that looks nice, flatters my figure, is comfortable - so I have something nice & cool to wear to my day of dance events tomorrow.
You know - I never want to pry, and won't, and am not - but I do wonder about your marriage sometimes. Just out of curiosity, and relating to you. Our marriages are very different, could hardly be more different. And yet. Here we are. I don't know.
So - I hope you're having whatever your favorite meal is this evening, and your favorite drink -
I don't know what we're having - I haven't done a proper food shopping - I don't have the car as often these days - mostly because D has become much more serious about pursuing paying work - which entails the car.
It's so funny - I feel stuck sometimes in this anachronistic way - it's hard to be a proper homemaker, and I don't have a car, or cash (or an allowance! ha!) of my own. Savings accumulated over a working lifetime, in the six digits - gone - spent fortunately (thus house paid for & furnished) - rather than evaporated Enron-style.
My darling, I apologize for this post. I'm going to launch it, but I'm going to blame it on - oh well, I don't know, it is hot & humid, but
you know despite all my kvetching - mostly it's just frustration
because I don't feel miserable
I actually feel pretty happy
I like moving my fingers on a keyboard
I'm grateful for my aerie
I'm happy I found a pretty blouse that fits & looks nice
and that actually goes with the skirt
(because a first blouse I'd tried on, in a different print, elicited a puckered 'I don't think so' look from the store clerk whose opinion I asked)
So, my darling Branwell, I am actually doing just fine, and hope you are too,
well, signing off dearest
P.S. Oh yes - another nice high point to recent days - having netflixed a wonderful PBS miniseries - Any Human Heart - I just love it, it's so beautifully done - I think that you would like it too (I hope I'm right) - anyway, check it out sometime - it has quite explicit sex scenes in it sometimes (which only adds to its charm & haunting realism) so it's something you may wish to view on your own - when you're back across the pond -
P.S.2 Tex-Mex, I'm imagining, for you dearest - and here since I'm not cooking - I guess I could go for Chinese...