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July 13, 2005
Michele: Frayed Ends of Sanity
The questions served to be little fingers untying a rope. Each answer untied a knot, each elaboration revealed worn and frayed spots where the rope had been strained and pulled.
Fourteen half-hour sessions at two hundred dollars a pop, and I got rope metaphors.
Every Tuesday: ropes, knots, frays, loose ends. Live it, he said. Be the rope.
So I untied the knots, the unraveling an exhausting lesson in self-discovery I wasn’t prepared to learn.
In the end, the rope was thousands of metaphorical feet long.
Let’s finish it off.
My note just says “long enough to hang myself with.”
Comments
What was I just saying, Doctor? I can’t remember. I woke up this morning and everything was wrong. I don’t know this place. I don’t recognize myself in that mirror. I’m old, grey. Something’s wrong. When is this? The last thing I remember was the accident.
[pause]
Did I say something? I don’t recall. But something’s wrong, Doctor. I don’t know this place. The old guy in the mirror there doesn’t look like me. I remember an accident, and then I woke up here. Have I traveled forward in time?
[pause]
What was I just saying? There was an accident....
Posted by: Essay at July 13, 2005 11:12 AM · Permalink · Rate It: + / - Current Rating: 0