I open all the doors, flaying the car in its white line stall - it smells like it did many months ago, when I began working here.
So much of where and what I write has happened here.
How the geometry of the desolate office park has sunk into me →
At first completely oppressive, mind the monkey flailing crashing in its cage. Then silent passage, most of a year in the parking lot, the eggshell bathroom, the water cooler. My mind palace begins to look like this office park, it’s a field a field. Feels like I’m in a field immersed in such banality, things become gorgeous in the parking lot. I lay in the backseat moving the sand dollar further and closer to my face, obscuring and revealing the line of sight. My hand looks incredibly old. I behave, am Gold. Earlier in the chair at the desk I believed I was having a stroke, I had 5 separate strange little feelings that didn’t correspond into any identifiable illness, so must be a stroke. I sleep easy in the back seat, with the roaring trucks. On the asphalt I am a soft shell-less creature rolling towards the glass door. Rolling. I imagine it as an arrow in my stomach - pushing from my spine out to my belly button. With the two doors open I dream of a gun, dream of I am perfect perfect perfect making an ugly face on the freeway home. Face like giant upturned bowl, reverse gravity pulling everything into an arc, mouth open like this shape →
So much of where and what I write has happened here.
How the geometry of the desolate office park has sunk into me →
At first completely oppressive, mind the monkey flailing crashing in its cage. Then silent passage, most of a year in the parking lot, the eggshell bathroom, the water cooler. My mind palace begins to look like this office park, it’s a field a field. Feels like I’m in a field immersed in such banality, things become gorgeous in the parking lot. I lay in the backseat moving the sand dollar further and closer to my face, obscuring and revealing the line of sight. My hand looks incredibly old. I behave, am Gold. Earlier in the chair at the desk I believed I was having a stroke, I had 5 separate strange little feelings that didn’t correspond into any identifiable illness, so must be a stroke. I sleep easy in the back seat, with the roaring trucks. On the asphalt I am a soft shell-less creature rolling towards the glass door. Rolling. I imagine it as an arrow in my stomach - pushing from my spine out to my belly button. With the two doors open I dream of a gun, dream of I am perfect perfect perfect making an ugly face on the freeway home. Face like giant upturned bowl, reverse gravity pulling everything into an arc, mouth open like this shape →
In mathematics, logic, and probability, the upside-down U symbol represents the intersection of sets. It indicates the elements that two or more sets have in common. For example, if Set A and Set B are combined, A (upside down U) B represents only the overlapping elements. I listen to The Zoo and to something more profane, I look in the mirror across from my pillow and hope today I will be tethered. I drive to the spit, I drive with strangers, alone, with neighbors. I enter the lighthouse, I have always dreamed of entering the lighthouse. They have roped off the spiral stairs upward, can't stick my head in the heavy carved glass eye. I am upside down U in the wind and on the bright asphalt, I am I am. There is something cruel in this movement, something that is playing and knotting. Turning the fruit in my hand, turning turning the upside down U. I I I, I tethered.
