selva oscura (anonymousblack) wrote,
selva oscura

diminished ninth

things feel meaningless tonight.
hollow and brittle. hopeless and hapless.

it's the kind of night when i want to do something rash and swiftly regrettable: chop hair, bid too high on eBay, drive around in strange backwoods, knock off a rearview mirror or two.

aching for change. sometimes i'm a change junkie. one thing goes wrong and i'm ready to grab the tables edge with both hands, fling it over, topple the monopoly board. pewter top hats and paper bills all over the carpet. okay! i don't want to play anymore.

i don't know.
that i want to play anymore.
i mean.

how far is denver, really? so many dollars and so many miles. so many losses and so many gains. i feel like i'm trying patience here, at home and at work, i feel like a new start might be a necessary thing. throw my hat in the air in the first winter snow. spin with outstretched arms and catch it with a million dollar grin but how long until i'm just trying new patiences there? how long til i hit a wrong nerve with c and start one of those sorts of screaming matches that ends with thrown plates and hotel rooms? how far is denver?

so much hopelessness is resolved at the snap of a finger. if only My Biggest Problem could be solved by happy accident.

if you ain't eating WHAM
you ain't eating ham!

rubber stamps and rubbing alcohol. i've been thinking about the red violin. just thinking. i'd watch it again, if i had it.

it would be nice to:
- fall in love
- not have to worry about money
- get an e-mail from faust
- actualize my unrealized potential
- star in an NC-17 remake of 9 1/2 Weeks opposite andrew eldritch or/and roland orzabal
- get my BA.

all seem about equally farcical endeavors. a pocket full of magic beans. a comedy of slamming doors. a new sisters album, anyone? i'll believe it the day certain aquarians ring my telephone with certain confessions. someday i'll belt out in the mountains: the hillside is alive, will i not, my darling little branded criminal? why don't you dance with me in my glass menagerie, i'll bring the clogs--but, dear, be careful about that damned unicorn, will ya?

JUDITH: [alone in the family tomb. presses her head to a stone colomn. fains, touches the back of her neck.] how can it be fair? that so many people that've hurt me so badly. that so many people who've hurt me and left me to die. that so many people who feel no need to say their sorry for the bullshit they've done, to me, to a hundred like me, to a thousand innocents: that these people get to be happy, and the people they've ruinned are not. it seems like some of the happiest people i know have gotten to be that way by being insensitive and heartless. and it's hard enough to try to be compassionate, you know? the more compassionate i try to be, sometimes, the more i hurt. the more i get screwed. so why bother. why not be just as heartless. just as insensitive. why not flurry off to the next bright shiny thing, flinging cruel words to those who've helped me, telling those who've given everything they could toward my happiness they are foolish and niave, drowning in their own mire?

[a whispering through the tomb. a brightness materializes, diaphonous and swirling, incoherent but evocative of some greater form. Judith falls back from the colomn, her eyes wide.]

JUDITH: and what is this? who is there? is this death, come to deliver me to these relatives? i'm here, aunt erma! isn't that enough? i love you, but i'd rather visit, right now, than move in.

[the form, materializing, is realized to be Diminished Ninth, that beautious keeper of all things that go wrong and slightly, of that quiet sadness that never quite sleeps. ]

JUDITH: is it you? could it be? i haven't seen you for a time, now, this is not possible! i am going mad! what do you want, strange spirit? what do you want from me?

DIMINISHED NINTH: [gesturing wildly] Haven't you seen? Haven't you heard? Haven't you felt it, with those wide reaching fingers, with that pale skin quivering at each wrist, lined by faint sprouts of purple vein? Don't you, of all people, don't you just know?

JUDITH: of course i don't know! how can you expect me to know! look at me, see my endless foolishness, my childish hopes, my hopeless dreams. i don't know anything! i don't even know how to use capital letters!

DN: Silly rabbit! Tricks are for kids. [vanishes as if swallowed.]

JUDITH: i wonder if anyone knows what i'm talking about, half of the time.
hell. [covers face] i wonder if i do.


hair torn from the root

Tags: faust, you silly girl

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