Invisible Not-So-Super-Hero
One of the things that I love about New York is that you can disappear whenever you want to; all you have to do is click your heels together three times, slouch down, and make eye contact with no one....and voila! You're invisible! Caution is advised, however, as the line between invisible and creepy psycho is very thin...a touch of drool or a mumble can send you over the edge.
I decided today that I wanted to be invisible. I didn't want to have to interact with anyone, and I just wanted to hover in my own bizarre little world...and it worked. I hid behind some poorly crafted excuse of allergies and was blissfully left alone by co-workers who are in love with the sound of their own voices, and out on the street its quite easy to be non-existant. I have pretty much been able to spend the day floating above whatever humdrum semblance of a daily routine I'm able to scavenge up from time to time, and just kind of watch it all from afar; its like NyQuil, but without the taste o' death flavoring. Detachment brings about a surreal sense of calm; a badly needed mute button for the world.
There is a beautiful monologue in Tennessee Williams' play, Talk To Me Like The Rain and Let Me Listen, where the character Woman (the two people are only named man and woman) talks about how she wants to go away, to a beach somewhere, and walk the esplanade every day gradually becoming less and less physically present each day until the wind finally blows what is left of her away. I first read the play when I was 16, and that monologue has haunted me ever since; it terrifies me how much I've always been able to relate to it and how resonant that imagery is for me. Luckily, the imagery really doesn't work for the grimy city streets.
I am on the verge of exploring uncharted and dangerous waters within my own emotional terrain. I am also on the verge of using so many trite cliches in one blog entry that I may self explode from the sheer pretentiousness of it...let me rephrase that one. I'm about to take a giant wrecking ball to some pretty huge freakin' walls I've built up and hoping that I'm not smothered by the outpouring of old and moldy crap that's hidden behind them. For whatever reason, perhaps its wrecking ball availability, perhaps the need for a bigger space to live and move about in...now seems to be the time to do it.
However, not this particular moment. At this particular moment I actually have to stop writing and go meet My Little Vidipookikins to exchange veggies and work my 2nd job at some bar with free wifi. Unfortunately alcohol does tend to nullify any invisibility. Oh well.
I decided today that I wanted to be invisible. I didn't want to have to interact with anyone, and I just wanted to hover in my own bizarre little world...and it worked. I hid behind some poorly crafted excuse of allergies and was blissfully left alone by co-workers who are in love with the sound of their own voices, and out on the street its quite easy to be non-existant. I have pretty much been able to spend the day floating above whatever humdrum semblance of a daily routine I'm able to scavenge up from time to time, and just kind of watch it all from afar; its like NyQuil, but without the taste o' death flavoring. Detachment brings about a surreal sense of calm; a badly needed mute button for the world.
There is a beautiful monologue in Tennessee Williams' play, Talk To Me Like The Rain and Let Me Listen, where the character Woman (the two people are only named man and woman) talks about how she wants to go away, to a beach somewhere, and walk the esplanade every day gradually becoming less and less physically present each day until the wind finally blows what is left of her away. I first read the play when I was 16, and that monologue has haunted me ever since; it terrifies me how much I've always been able to relate to it and how resonant that imagery is for me. Luckily, the imagery really doesn't work for the grimy city streets.
I am on the verge of exploring uncharted and dangerous waters within my own emotional terrain. I am also on the verge of using so many trite cliches in one blog entry that I may self explode from the sheer pretentiousness of it...let me rephrase that one. I'm about to take a giant wrecking ball to some pretty huge freakin' walls I've built up and hoping that I'm not smothered by the outpouring of old and moldy crap that's hidden behind them. For whatever reason, perhaps its wrecking ball availability, perhaps the need for a bigger space to live and move about in...now seems to be the time to do it.
However, not this particular moment. At this particular moment I actually have to stop writing and go meet My Little Vidipookikins to exchange veggies and work my 2nd job at some bar with free wifi. Unfortunately alcohol does tend to nullify any invisibility. Oh well.
posted by Le Synge Bleu at 8:17 PM
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