Monday, April 4, 2011

L'Arrivée


It was scary, terrifying in moments, a strange sense of destiny, weird portals and moments when I was sure I was being born myself, remembering things I’d never known, I was a monster, bad, hopeless, what was I doing in this bath, the thought of it made me sick, the idea of it all – what was it for again – why was I here, I wanted to go home, watch masterchef – be somewhere else, someone else, something else, anything other than this, here it comes again, the thing bigger than me, too big, I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t do it, and then suddenly there I was doing it, I watched myself, an amoeba, a slug, a whale, primordial, swaying, strange sounds coming from somewhere, me, earplugs in my ears and some stupid lady saying peace and calm and wanting so badly to believe it peace and calm peace and calm perhaps you can do it and then there you were doing it I could see you from above, from inside, from the sides of the bathtub, oh god, how – how – how – how.  Ow.  Fifteen hours of this one moment, fifteen hundred years. 
Then there was this time when you went so far you didn’t know if you’d ever come back – there was no choice but to go there – too far gone – and it was like stepping into a void and it was also like not just allowing yourself to be quartered, but doing it yourself – running down a corridor, hurling yourself on an electric fence over and over and over again and each time perhaps getting closer to it, the thing, but never quite knowing whether you were.  That was scary.  The effort it took to suicide all those times was extraordinary and you did it and there was this strange hint of relief after each time, a glow, a glimmer of something else.  You had no idea where you were.  Somewhere very new.  I was watching you, me, all of us, we did it together.  I felt the softness of a part of your head, delicate like nothing I’d ever touched, still part of me, but entirely you.  I cleared the fence this time in one jump – I was over it, there was fire there in that water.  There were lots of encouragements.  And then, all eyes and hair and rope and silence, there she was.
Kiki.

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