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slave to the pollen - breathing underwaterland

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September 17th, 2006


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01:14 pm - slave to the pollen
there's always a task.
a direction -a journey.
the reason?? "BECAUSE"
if i were smarter...maybe then i'd get it. but as i am, the buzz of that gnat, the glowing ember i know as "the sun," the ebb and flow of the tide...it all eludes me.
me.
i am a bee.
a drone
slave to the pollen
slave to the queen
slave to the flesh.
i am driven by a hundred and one forms of instinct...i sleep and wake on a schedule deterined by the weakness of my flesh. my breathing is something i cannot help. i flirt and fuck and call it "love" but love is nothing more than a way of disguising the truth...that for reasons beyond the scope of my understanding, all i really wanna do, is BE.
* * *

and now: a forest. saw palmetto and live oak and the smell of salt in the air. i am so much meat, climbing on all fours...ground-low...and through vertical slits, the rush of root & rock, as high on the horizon, through thick, waxen leaves, i see it:
the crystal home.
that's the task...the direction and journey.
* * *

"hay, girl!! where ya goin? the condo's THAT way!!" my sister, gold rings clacking, points in the opposite direction: down the hill toward the beach.
"yeah, i know where the condo's at, ding dong! can't we just go for a walk?"
"sissy, it's fucking hot, koda's thirsty and tired...let's go back."
"no. i need to go up there" i gesture up the hill, through the plants.
"but, sissy, there's not even a path there, i'm going home. you can come or not."
"well, then. NOT. i'll see ya in a few hours, k?"
"whatever...see ya for dinner. we're going to charlie's crab. so don't be late."
i veer off the path.
guilty...i should leave shit alone, follow the rules, stay on the path. poor deer having to dodge mindless tourists like me, as we tread onto their turf. oh well, i make a silent oath to self: "tread lightly." and lightly forward i tread.
ahead...a...hmmmm...structure?
i move towards it and discover that it's a form of transportation. there's one seat in a little car. and a sign that says,
"HI SMITH!
THE CAR KNOWS WHERE TO GO.
GET IN; IT WILL TAKE YOU BACK WHENEVER YOU ARE READY"

i get in.
it goes.
and all around me becomes like a blur. like a sea of memories processed in a cuisinart...i recognize random sensation-fragments as they whiz by. i taste honey; i feel the sussrrrrrush of fur and whiskers...and now, my feet on the ground: bipedal primate. smith. forest. the car vanishes, and it's me and trees and rocks and roots. i look up the hill and see the thing i'm supposed to see: the ice house.
it is my destination.
when suddenly,
i'm there. and i realize...i've paid my dues: i've already climbed that hill. i've climbed it time and time again. i've climbed it alone, and i've climbed it in pack.
i stand at the doorway of the magnificent earth-and-glass structure. to my left, on the ground, i see a broken biological form. it is humanish...no blood, but it's torn and bruised.
i open the door and walk into a vast room jammed with cages. there are hundreds of them, all sizes and shapes. the cages are sitting all helter skelter atop gorgeous, hand-knotted tapestries. in the center of the room, amidst the cages, i spy a series of horizontal rungs: a ladder rising from the floor to a platform far above, encircling the space...i walk to the ladder. there's a sign on it that says:
"HI SMITH!
THIS LADDER KNOWS WHERE TO GO.
GET ON; IT WILL TAKE YOU BACK WHENEVER YOU ARE READY"

i climb the ladder.
it disappears, just as the one-seater did...and i peer over the railing and see that the tapestries are more than decorative designs. together, they create a symbol...but there's some missing, and whoever laid the tapestries put it together incorrectly...it looks like this:



and then suddenly there are animals in all the cages. an elephant crammed into a large cage...i can't figure how she got into the hole. a mouse stuffed into a tiny cage...and i think, THIS IS EVIL SHIT. i need to let them out. my ladder is gone, but it doesn't matter. my desire puts me there. and i disassemble the walls of the elephant's cage and let her out...she leaves through the wall. i disassemble the walls of the mouse's cage, and a horse's cage and let them out...they also leave through the wall. and i simply set about disassembling cages.

when.

i turn around and realize that the cage i just disassembled has somehow magically reassembled itself...and there is another squashed elephant...i know i can let him out, too. but once out, there will be another and another...

and i am crying. and i know it's too late for supper...i want to go home. i don't even know where "home" is anymore.
i am standing at the entrance of a tunnel. there is a sign that says,
"HI SMITH!
THIS TUNNEL KNOWS WHERE HOME IS.
GO IN. IT WILL TAKE YOU BACK ANY TIME YOU WANT."

i go into the tunnel.
it's dark and i'm scared to shit. there are windows in the tunnel wall. they are dirty. i try looking thru them, but can just barely see form and color. i think i see an elephant in a glass case...i wipe my tears onto a cloth and use them to clean the dirt from the window, but as i do so, what is removed is NOT the dirt, but any semblance of form that existed BEHIND it. it is now smeared beyond all recognition.
i allow myself to imagine that it was not an elephant.
there is a light ahead. i am going to that.
i know it is "home"
i think of my sister. i remember her clutching her stuffed tiger to her chest as a little girl. i remember her at 13, with pimples all over her face: big trauma. i think, too, of my brother, of what he went through at the hands of my father, and in my mind i encircle him with a warm light. i think for some reason of james g and of my mother and of summer corn, of heat and water and the sensation of simon, purring on my chest. i remember -a wrinkled, ancient hand dropping a single peach onto the conveyor belt at jewel...the checker, passing him thru without charging him a penny...throwing 2 quarters into the till from her pocket as i paid my bill. i think of the hammering next door as my neighbors love their delapidated house into a home. i think of scott and david and of mike roig. and finally, i think again of georgia, sitting alone at charlies crab. and hope she will forgive me for not showing up to dinner.

(12 comments | Leave a comment)

Comments:


[User Picture]
From:xrayzerase
Date:September 18th, 2006 12:16 am (UTC)
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beautifully written.
[User Picture]
From:kat_manson
Date:September 18th, 2006 12:24 am (UTC)
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good lord, i don't believe you took the time to read the damn thing...it's so long i figured no one would bother with it...
except maybe mia.
thanks.
:)
s
[User Picture]
From:xrayzerase
Date:September 18th, 2006 12:34 am (UTC)
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yeah..read it--found it pretty intriguing actually
anyway-cool stuff.
[User Picture]
From:el_jefe59
Date:September 18th, 2006 02:08 am (UTC)
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Yes, I agree. Did you, perhaps, bas it on a dream? It has that kind of feeling to it.
[User Picture]
From:kat_manson
Date:September 18th, 2006 05:06 am (UTC)
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every time the writing is pink and centered, what you have is a dream. it is 100% last night's dream. so...that would explain the feeling!!
s
[User Picture]
From:el_jefe59
Date:September 18th, 2006 01:20 pm (UTC)
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Oh, OK.
[User Picture]
From:jazzmo
Date:September 18th, 2006 05:43 am (UTC)
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you have a wonderful mind.

(-:
[User Picture]
From:kat_manson
Date:September 18th, 2006 05:16 pm (UTC)
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good lord. that's better than "i love you!!!"!!

you totally made my month, dude!
s
[User Picture]
From:pondhopper
Date:September 18th, 2006 08:32 am (UTC)
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I´m always amazed at people who remember their dreams or even parts of them. I don´t think I even want to remember most of mine.

This was fascinating.
[User Picture]
From:kat_manson
Date:September 18th, 2006 05:17 pm (UTC)
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sometimes i don't...or only remember little snippets.
thanks for your comment!
s
From:clairenolen
Date:September 18th, 2006 02:27 pm (UTC)
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the quest of the warrior.
and yes, on the other side of the tunnel is " home".
but you stick around on this side of the fence for a while, okay?
'cause
we have too.

btw: i think i've read it 3 times......or 4?
;-)
love
mia
[User Picture]
From:kat_manson
Date:September 18th, 2006 05:19 pm (UTC)
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i'll stick around on this side as long as i can ,woman. believe you me. i'm not one for checkin' out. i have 50 years left in me and i hope i get to spend them explore glass houses rather than working likea made woman at my computer!!

i am sending our book today. i don't like the back the the page, but have done enough for a single entry. and it is just time, i think to send it.
love,
s

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