Thursday, 13 January 2005

Dear interested party...

Surroundings are indicative of nothing but themselves. The plains of her desk remind me of her desk. I ate some pasta earlier to banish the graze of hunger upon my insides and I couldn't move. She complained of feeling sick, I tidied up. It was mainly my clothes that formed a small drift against the legs of the chair.

I am hoping to sleep soon, my social side sits on a balcony opposite in the bitter night air reading a Russian novel. Close your mouths, here is something. You will get what you seek. And you think you are anxious! I have written only two pages while seated at this desk, and we are due to leave the apartment very soon. I promised myself a hundred pages in five days. This is pre-emptively halfway down one of them; the first one. Two pathetic pages; hardly the foundations for publication or even a lasting relationship. I am tired, the boulevard curve of my spine aches from the base.

A gentle, anxious search for the journal that confirms my frugal creativity is underway as a slanting lightness inside my head is opening out into the room and I hold a yawn at bay. The height of the rooms was to be expected I suppose. I saw a lot of tall buildings today though, and a lot of old ones too.

Newsprint covers my hands but that isn't what you need. You need to know of the old dictionary worn at the corners and torn on page four two six. On that postcard is a horse-drawn tram. And down there or over there, people laugh, three people, three men. There is the camera she bought and didn't use and gave to me and I didn't use it either. I just didn't think to carry it with on those expeditions to the city.

That is my coffee cup, I made it this morning (the coffee not the cup). I have forgotten yesterday already, and I write this quietly because she is sleeping. We are meeting late, perhaps half twelve, because it will be cheaper then. I am free to question my own stamina, and my literary impotence; It bears upon my day, lashing it down. She stirs and whispers. I think that perhaps we are late and I try to look at the clock, but I cannot see it. I try to guess the time and think of how much is left before I have to move. I am unsure but it is okay because in the end we won't go out anyway.

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