the nomadic life: side A

i remember the slicked back, neat details such as how you hold your pen or whether or not you have connected earlobes. how do you say yogurt? do you linger at the first syllable or do you swiftly move through your sentences. i collect these little bits like lint in a pocket. one day i'll have enough to construct you anywhere, in anytime, no matter the distance, no matter the darkness.

i've been living on couches and turning the channels in myself like a television. not HD and not satellite. there's only so many pictures i can present or, perhaps, only so many that i'm willing to. regardless, i pretty much give the people what they want. after all, they feed me and house me and talk with me and allow me a glimpse of their lives. and i record it all. well, it's not like i walk around with a pen and pad while they are living, no, i save that for when they aren't looking, but i mentally take notes. we all do. constantly surveying our new environment, sniffing the air for danger and treading softly on the balls of our feet.

unlike many animals in defense mode, i attempt to make myself as small as possible. if i could have the potions of Alice, that would be ideal. but normal people don't exactly have access to such chemicals. i condense all my belongings into a corner, stacking them one on top of the other. the sky's the limit. and i often brace it with one shaking hand, my head pushing it against the wall and the rest of my body attempting to block it out. i must look uncomfortable, pushed up against my things, but i don't want to sprawl out, in fact, i don't want to take up any space. why don't we just forget i'm even here?

it's hot and i'm sweating. i focus on the light and shadow formations on the carpet. i transform them into clouds and then imagine myself floating above the earth. suddenly i'm so big it doesn't matter. i'm omnipresent and omnipotent. i have no idea what channel i'm on. probably some silly evening time comedy, a Friends sort of conversation or, if i'm on a particularly good streak, Seinfield. rarely i'll slip into a Lifetime special. my eyes get darker and suddenly i know i'm looking into my counterparts, really looking into them and it's then that i want to know everything. i want to know them forever. that's when true connections are made and love sinks in, subtly sedating almost all defense mechanisms.

i have a tendency to get lost like a dreamy spider that builds three dimensional webs and gets all tangled in it's own abstract designs. it is this tendency that makes me especially prone to falling into people.

lately i've been stumbling into many people's lives. but that's exactly how it feels, like a stumble. it's as if in this great dance of life i'm being spun, over and over clasping onto the hands of strangers, sharing a human affirming moment, smiling teeth beaming, eyes locked, a flash of light in both our brains and a surge radiating out of our center like a full body blood rush, then gone, gone, out the door, barely enough time to say good-bye, then hello, hello, all over again.

i'm exhausted. perhaps i'm not cut out for this sort of life. flip, flip, flip, i'm speeding through my own channels and mixing up what happened today from what happened yesterday or last week or what never even happened. i'm not a social butterfly, i'm a heart heavy spider with grand illusions.

i miss being known. the comfort of synchronous and natural movement, of feeling fluid in the presence of those i know and who know me.

(at least you're writing again)