From "Sic Transit"
"Dead of night. No one, nothing but the society of the moments" — E.M. Cioran
The radiator banging, filling with water in the middle of the night.
In the apartment next door the 1970 "Theme from 'Love Story'" playing on the radio, and in the apartment below a strenuous, rhythmic nose-blowing. Where I live is no place familiar. But the red brick buildings across the street, seen in streetlight in the darkest part of night, generate enough memories for the passage to daylight.
The comfort of the radiator and a cupboard full of Campbell's cans. Not even to eat — just to have.
But is all this constant insistence on comfort bad? Here I am, looking out the window at 3 a.m. expecting revelations, and meanwhile fifteen miraculous apparitions are taking place around the corner for a hideous legion of star-spangled scenesters. I've never known how to intuit the right moment. I could be famous and not even know it.
(to be continued ...)
The radiator banging, filling with water in the middle of the night.
In the apartment next door the 1970 "Theme from 'Love Story'" playing on the radio, and in the apartment below a strenuous, rhythmic nose-blowing. Where I live is no place familiar. But the red brick buildings across the street, seen in streetlight in the darkest part of night, generate enough memories for the passage to daylight.
The comfort of the radiator and a cupboard full of Campbell's cans. Not even to eat — just to have.
But is all this constant insistence on comfort bad? Here I am, looking out the window at 3 a.m. expecting revelations, and meanwhile fifteen miraculous apparitions are taking place around the corner for a hideous legion of star-spangled scenesters. I've never known how to intuit the right moment. I could be famous and not even know it.
(to be continued ...)
posted by Sharon Mesmer at 9:44 AM
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