In these ever infrequent moments of repose, I . . . I . . . well, fuck , I can’t think of anything now. Then again, I suppose that is the very point . . . that in these ever infrequent moments of repose I cannot think of anything; or more likely, that because of these ever infrequent moments of repose I cannot think of anything. I suppose I could’ve spared myself even this Gordian knot by not before bringing up said ever infrequent moment(s) of repose especially since, by their very definition they are too ephemeral to invite prolixity. But alas, they are all I have . . . as well, I mean I don’t really have them these days, so I guess its really the deficiency I’m embracing, and there’s hardly anything novel about that.
Hello everybody! I realize that was a bit of a workout just now. And how are we doing today? Me? Oh, you know how people are. I mean, do you know how people are? If so, I’d love for you tell me being that people, on any given occasion, either terrify or annoy the piss out of me. A hug, you say? Would I like one? Hmm . . . well, I mean, no it’s not the physical contact that bothers me at all. I mean, after all I’m irresistable! That was a joke. Sarcasm? A fear of intimacy, you say? Maybe. Sort of. I mean that has nothing to do with . . . Why? It’s complicated, a string of bad relationships and my mother . . . you know, actually I think I have someplace I have to be right now . . .
And so it is that I take it indoors for now, adrift in a sea of rules, unders, heres, and therefore; a costly pennance for a fool’s transgression. Last night, I had a dream, several in fact, as I was trying to sleep between the hours of six pm and three am, the most salient of which involved a cruise ship called The Whore of the Seas.
Now you gotta admit that’s funny. Though I fear most terribly that you won’t. Perhaps you really had to be there, alas there’s no passenger side in my subconcious. I even wrote it down a few times in class today, to keep myself functional (if not alert) during Prior Inconsistent Statements.
I don’t mind it all really, I feel a very catholic sense of justification for the current situation. When people ask me why, I utter a few phrases culminating in the word momentum; the lack thereof, and the failure to attain it in sufficient time. I’m fortunate to have developed a different relationship with momentum since July; this same confidence allows me to eschew the gym and phone it in on the rest of my life for the time being.
I just wish I could explain the spiders. The spiders, you say? Yes, you and I have never spoken about the spiders, and for good reason because they haven’t been seen since long before this blog came along. They didn’t appear on the previous one, either. The period of my life where they were most frequent was one that, for a variety of reasons, coincided with a downturn in blogging. No, spiders did not kill effinchamp, but they got me thinking.
So, what are they? Spiders . . . oh they’re these insects that . . . No, you smug twat, YOUR spiders!
Okay, um . . . sometimes I’m half awake, or still asleep but awake in my minds eye. In any event, I’m usually awake in a manner of seconds, usually because of the spiders. There’s never more than one of then, but they’re large. Not like tarantulas or anything. The kind with very long legs and tiny little bodies. I’m no arachnologist. Is that the proper word? It is? Go me!
In any event, I’ll see them, again never more than one, ascending the wall, and this jolts me out of bed turning on the lights. Once it happened when my parents were visiting and my mom got concerned. But this has happened independant of her presence, and so I can safely file this one under "things that are probably not her fault".
She’s doing fine. Thanks for asking. She and my dad are going to see Pericles tonight at the Goodman. They’re surprised to hear that there’s ice.
Moving on. So, these spiders appear and it shakes me awake but last night it happened twice. And the last time it happened was a very long time ago . . . and outdoors at that too. Summer of 2004, yes THAT summer. Before or after, you ask? After, maybe about a month or so. Yes, it still hurt. Look, can we not talk about . . . thank you. I was in the park, Madison Square hanging out with a friend of mine. I was reading The Corrections. My friend was also reading. Chekov? The Three Sisters? He’s an actor so . . . I mean, I wouldn’t read Chekov, not voluntarily. The parents took me to see The Three Sisters maybe when I was twelve and it put me to sleep but anyhow. And I suddenly just hallucinated a spider, this one more like a tarantula just crawling on the grass. And I literally jumped out of my place and freaked out. My friend? He was very normal and nonchalant about it, he already knows how woundtight I can be anyway so . . .
Would I say that I am? I wish desperately that I wasn’t but it’s always been a part of my nature. . . Did I talk about it to anyone else? Yes. She’s a close friend of mine from law school. I told her about the spiders and she started talking about the faeries. I’m not really sure, that’s how she spells it. She says she imagines them all the time. But all I know is that what I see are spideres. I’ve never met a real bona fide faerie in person so I don’t know if I’d necessarily have the same reaction. I wouldn’t say they’re the same thing.
What’s different about now? Lots of things. I’ve forced myself to grow since then in ways I never imagined I could, mostly positive. I mean, yes it wasn’t a positive time in my life but I managed. And now? Things are fine. They’re not ideal, far from it. But I’m comfortable with the choices I’ve had to make mostly because I’ve given myself no other choice. The strangest thing about all this is that I’m not much scared of spiders in real life. I just don’t appreciate them climbing up my walls.
So why is this bothering me? Maybe it isn’t really, but it’s forced me to reflect back to a time that in many key respects, I’ve struggled to put behind me and yet I don’t feel like that’s what’s at issue. Oh, and then I read about Jung’ characterization of it and he called them
a symbol of wholeness due to its circular shape. He called circular symbols ‘mandalas’ and said that they had valuable meaning for the dreamer. Spiders . . . have represented a deepening of a sense of connection to the world, a physical and psychological symbol of the string theory of quantum mechanics.Everything is, in some way, connected.
Would I agree? I don’t know, it bears some truth with respect to the last time that they appeared. But now? I mean, yes I’m all for "a greater connectedness"; indeed, I’ve reached a point where I can say I’ve finally attained it. But don’t I need precisely the opposite? Isn’t now the time to really turn away from the world? Wasn’t it a thirst for the world-not the whole of it-put the parts I could touch and really run through my fingers-that did me in last time? Or maybe there are other ways to connect that I’ve yet to learn? Is that what you’re saying?
Who are you, anyways?
In any event, there’s work to do. And now hardly seems the time for full-on mania.
