Because Willem requires Jörn for something, he leaves me when he gets Willem’s text from up in the cage and goes back up to the dungeon saying,
“I’ll be right back.”
“You have said that before,” I say to him as he goes, “but then you did not return till months later.”
I watch him as he hesitates at the doorway. He stops and turns to look at me. But then he just looks at me with some expression that I cannot read
and it occurs to me that it seems he tries to read me.... the slight crease between his pale brows and his set jaw. And then with a slight shake of his head he says again,
“I’ll be right back.”
and goes
I get up from the retro diner booth and walk through to the other part that I think of as the mini-grocer and go right up to the isle with the vodka. and sit down on the slick-gray painted floor with it. and break the seal, opening it....
this tension I feel....
when did I get to be like this....?
this impatience
....it must be
....anger?
I never was like this, I don’t like it....
this isn’t me, not how I ever was.
So, what is it.... unless it is only just surfacing now. Suppressed anger. Could I have buried it all this time ....?
I think it is disillusion
how dreadful. how miserably dreadful ....
And as I think this, I take a long swig —forgetting, for that moment, it is alcohol and drink too much. It goes right to my head as the fumes burn through my sinus and I gasp from the shock of it breathing in more of the fumes
“Shit....” I say out loud and close the cap setting it down, and again speak aloud to myself as I tend to in such states, “that was stupid....”
and lean back to lay flat on the floor.
I look up at the curvaceous ceiling as the dulling sensation sweeps through me along with that sick feeling between head and stomach
but even that dulls
....it was much easier before —much more possible before ....
when it seemed one could renew the soul by escaping crowds in some wilderness, take a trip, have a spontaneous adventure — or even just to simply have the freedom to commune quietly with nature and seek peace
and be able to just think.... clear the mind.... to get out of the negativity of one’s own head— and .... to be able to do what I always do ....just impulsively take off somewhere .... a train, a plane, a bus —or just a long drive somewhere far ....just to run away ....somewhere.... somewhere new; another city or country —escape out of my present deadwood life; the go-to reaction I’ve relied upon so often that is not possible now.... just start anew. start over fresh, shed a skin. How many times have I done that?
but look at this world now .... it is not possible to,
it feels so confining as there is no escape....
and this must be why I feel this way .... and not familiar with what this is —and so too, feel so guilty to feel it —too—
because I know what is out there, going on everywhere in the world. It reminds me of the same ugly strip malls I found going from the east coast to the west coast...
The trap of a plague, the unrest in the world, coming to blows ....
what is happiness?
is it possible to find this I wonder
Especially when this is everywhere?
What if this is really the summit of this search for enlightenment....? —whether or not the search is consciously pursued by this world, it may be having this forced upon it. all forced to, in some conscious or unconscious way; to struggle with and determine some elusive essential meaning within these suffocating current realities presented by what is exposed during these confines of life as it is
So what difference does any of this make .... the injustices .... as I struggle with my own .... ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness’ ? ....that line from the US Declaration of Independence—why does it sound so naïve .... these days?
I sit up to take another swig
but I know .... everything matters
even as we doubt it
it does ....
it is only that sometimes ....
it is hard to see the light; hard to find it....
why do I think of Jung again saying how we become our names .... or is it the other way around .... I wonder.... it seems I have always been in search for the light .... reaching blindly from the darkness .... and such darkness
reaching for something
....that may be inside me
and still seems to elude me....
I take another swig
****
Jörn comes back .... he calls for me from the kitchen area
and only now I realize how the alcohol has gone to my head when I move to get up from lying on the floor
He calls again
And because I am delayed I have to call back from the floor,
“I’m in here!” and sit up
I hear his footsteps before he appears and think to right myself, shaking out my hair as I stand up, gripping the shelving as he comes in
“Hej,” I say
but he gives me an odd look noticing the bottle
“Hej,” he repeats and walks over to take it from me. Then opens it and takes a swig too and closes it with a smile as he looks at me then puts the bottle back on the shelf, “what is going on with you?” he says. But it does not come out like a question
“While you have gone across the ocean a few times, I haven’t even left this dungeon ....” I say “I can’t exactly be —enterprising!” and the last part comes out more suddenly than I meant it to as I lose my balance from the alcohol; his hand comes out to grab me before I crash into the rows of vodka on the shelf
When I look up expecting him to be disapproving, I find he is holding back a laugh at my expense and still gripping me, now with both hands
but recklessly I say,
“and who knows what —you—have been up to.... who—not that I’ll ask you, it’s not my business....”
He looks at the bottle as if judging how much I’ve had and looks at me thoughtfully,
“ahhh— is that what it is? Even after Willem explained to you about Stina and how I was being held there—“
“Not the whole time!” I say, and am more shocked than he is for snapping at him
Only he laughs,
“is that why you won’t let me near you? You think I have had time for sporting activities? Stina’s not my type!” he corners me to the shelf and traps me there, leaning over me with his arms and putting his booted feet so I can’t move
“Well, Lisa then, she’s back there in Sweden where you obviously were —not that it’s my business—“
“Oh no,” and mocks me, “of course not,” while still laughing at me, “I see vodka is your truth serum, duva —I didn’t know you were the jealous type! You don’t usually show this to me. You really think I get around —and with my ex? What an imagination you have— double-O-seven,” and still he is laughing with too much enthusiasm at my expense, “yes,” he says now more thoughtfully, “I think you do need to get out of here. Come on— let me show you something—“ and moves to pull me from there, now grabbing hold of me by my wrist
“Where?”
“To the hide,” he says
“We’re going to hide?”
“No, to-the-hide— that’s where we’re going, come on.”
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