Monday, September 03, 2007
No Suggestion Of The Outside
I once made a tuna casserole, my efforts possibly creating one of the nastiest concoctions ever. I didn't know what I was doing so I threw a bunch of stuff from my then-boyfriend's cabinets together and hoped for the best. I was young and full of hope. The best didn't happen. The canned meat taste (I had included some deviled ham for flavor -- loud doesn't even begin to describe its peculiar taste) overwhelmed the other ingredients as canned meat is wont to do. The potato chips burned; the rest remained a soggy mess. My then-boyfriend couldn't even look at the thing. My heart felt heavy with yet another failure. "This fucking sucks, Michelle," he said, ever the diplomat. I had just started working nights as a desk clerk and hadn't slept in days; my body refused to adjust. I dumped the entire thing over his balcony, hoping not to hit any unsuspecting victim, wanting to get it out of my bleary sight.
A copy of Be Here Now sat open on my boyfriend's nightstand on Terrible Tuna Night. I looked around the room, a windowless studio apartment with no suggestion of the outside. The kitchen was the bedroom was the living room. The only place you could escape was to the bathroom if you had a fight. The place was all broken windows and shattered security lights. The kind of place you didn't want to be, but there you were. I wondered what Ram Dass might have to say about where I was. But I couldn't find a lightbulb for the lamp which had burned out, couldn't even find my night reading light. The night seemed to drag on forever, and I still couldn't sleep. But I was there, in the perpetual now, trying to believe that darkness might have as much to teach me as anything else, even if I couldn't name it.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"If you think you're free, there's no escape possible." Ram Dass
Drinking music suggestion: Hot Rats Frank Zappa
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Labor Day!