i feel carsick. i am not in a car, & i have felt this way since late morning.
but on the bus i sat with my back pressed against the hard seat. the bus quivered as it drove & i could feel the bones in my back vibrating: one strong line with frailer lines emanating out & fading as the ribs curve around.
now that i am home i feel hot & sticky on top of the staying-still version of the carsickness. like addiest, i know that there is nothing i can listen to that will help. these cds sitting on my desk � mountain goats, pinback, mandalay, kristin hersh, frank black � just stare at me. in the living room the shelves of cds are glowering. the vinyl is uninviting too.
i know, i just know, that i am going to finish writing this & park myself in bed with oscar and lucinda even though reading is only going to make me feel worse. i am so stubborn. i always read in the car. i did it as a child & never got ill. as an adult i sometimes do, but i plow on, because i can't stand to stop.
here is something. from the window of the bus, stopped at a light, i looked down into the car in the next lane. the man at the wheel handed a tissue to the woman in the passenger seat: his left hand crossed over his body to hand it to her. she turned around with her knees in the seat & leaned into the back to wipe the face of the tiny girl in the carseat in the back. the tiny girl was laughing the whole time. the woman tissued at her face with her right hand. her left hand stuck out to the side & it was a fist clenched around a $20 bill. she clenched progressively tighter until the twenty looked like a stiff paper lily.
1. i steal images from other people's lives/spaces & put them here. does that mean it shouldn't be here.
2. this didn't even happen today. it happened yesterday. does that mean it shouldn't be here.
