App life
the surreality of 2022 shoots splinters of ice to turn flesh to ribbons
is it a dare or a roulette game,
wishing to escape and I suppose that last ditch desire to force myself to be convinced otherwise
later….get a message; half my age, “hey beautiful—I know you don’t know me, but why don’t you come over and we can change that. Are you interested in some all night fun?”
App/a/thetic….left or right
In my most quiet times of late when I seek that kind of place of peace to take me from physical pain, my ever faithful and constant companion, I imagine what would be my idyllic refuge
Fine tuned ….yes, solitude; my cave, and there I could preside and look out over this universe ….away
It would not be big, but perfect, just big enough for just myself, and at still peace, no conversation to intrude, no needs, no wants of anything
it came to me as I walked how well I like the Earth, it is only its human inhabitants I would prefer avoid. I think this is why I hike, I look for paths little tread upon, I look for hiding places, I look to avoid all thoughts of needs and wants
and yet, how could I blame every human for what the masses impressions have left upon me ….to those others, from this distance, I would leave some message of happy greeting
I think I may come to dream of quiet breaths and drifting off and away and reaching out my hand upon a lovely lake ….and letting go all ….no needs, no wants, no longing anymore and a quiet joy of knowing my peace did come hard won but here may I at last let myself know rest and say ‘this is fine’
à quel point elle se cache dans la fiction pour enterrer tous les aveux de ses peurs réelles
I head down the corridor, ignoring that feeling of deception I cannot get rid of in my gut….
And walk to the elevator which I’d not seen before when I’d gone up the stairs from the street. I realize now why Jörn said to go this way for when I get out, alone —as the building seems to be empty of nearly everyone, save a few walking towards the exits—that, these doors lead out the opposite side of the building and I am now standing facing another street, not looking in the direction of the water. It is a few minutes I am standing there and begin to worry as I look around watching delivery vans go by. The others who leave the building hardly seem to notice me.
I get a chill as I stand there waiting and consider if maybe perhaps I had better order an actual Uber but I am too worried to, thinking something might have happened to Jörn.
I walk down to the corner and look down the next street and reach inside my bag for my phone, but suddenly I see the white Volvo peeling down the street and as it swerves, it comes to a screeching stop. The passenger door swings open,
“Get in!” he says
And it is the urgency in his command which I don’t bother to question and then, I am hardly in the seat with the door not even closed when he accelerates at full speed down the narrow street
“Fuck! What’s going on?” I grab onto the dashboard by the glove compartment
“Put your seatbelt on, we have to get to DC!” he shouts as he looks at me, “we have a problem—!”
And as I turn to look behind us, I see a delivery van is not far behind, much too close, in fact!—also driving at full speed….
“Get down!” Jörn shoves my head down as the windshield shatters with a round of popping sounds and, delayed, it occurs to me —we’re being shot at
electra, I get this sense, today —almost an alarm that blares ….it is something so intangible ~as though, I feel something may not have been fully disclosed; that something is just not right somehow…. and it feels something like a tremor of a needle going off ….what is it? where does it come from ….as to why, and then I question —what could be the real reason ….I wonder what, some act of deception
and why should it have power over me?
the shift in the eye; the secret agenda….
I don’t know where the feeling comes from but it disarms the whole of me in terror— and I suppose at the root of it, I guess for me —it is, it feels, you see, only as if ~the only purpose is ….just for the sport of it…. like I am the object; the toy —and I am nothing…. but disposable ….how much I detest this sense I can feel
and well it is that…. you see….it makes me go back to how it always felt when ….with my mother; what she did to me. and so —reach for that dangerous place —the trigger within; to destroy itself— and jettisoned into that dark abyss until …. nid wyf yn ddim
The momentary confusion that I feel in coming out of the hypnosis that I realize had been prompted ….by design…. from the old recording of Dr.Rothschild’s that she had obviously kept ….now sends, in a flurry of thoughts
that sense of feeling cornered ….
and from that triggered thought I find I land upon others ….such as
I have gone from that sense of being stranded and living in one prison —the underground bunker in the Adirondaks ….to that other prison —of my high school stalker and do now find myself forced to live out yet another sentence as where I find myself as the companion/groundskeeper of a supposed retired spy but forced to report back as his spy because …..why? this part has me rather stupefied as I sit there in that foggy aftermath of that blankness which comes when you know your brain has been prodded whilst under some form of a tranquilizer —how induced, I am not fully sure
befuddled ….I look up at Jörn assuming, he is why I feel this way
….as I watch him…. peeling off fake press-on manicured nails
I hear the sound of them hitting the porcelain sink of the lavatory as he has left the door open and from the psychiatrist’s couch I am still sitting on, I have a perfect view of the lavatory’s interior
I feel entranced to watch him; perhaps it is the after-affects of the hypnosis ….so…. fascinating really ….he’s so methodically professional —now as I watch him removing his make-up. The glasses now removed, does one eye at a time; he uses some sort of white cream, so fastidiously neat and orderly, almost like a surgeon, so careful and practiced. And then it is the lipstick, off it comes, leaving not even a stain of any residue; then washes his face with a foaming cleaner, scrubbing up to his hairline and then the hair itself; under the faucet, washes out the setting and then in a blink, it is tightly tied back…. he is himself again completely transformed before my very eyes!
I get up and walk to the lavatory doorway,
“Jörn, what is going on?”
“Not here,” he whispers and presses an index finger to his mouth and implores me with his eyes but looks at the time of his watch which he now reaches for from inside a gym bag which had been stowed in a cabinet under the sink, “although, I think everyone has gone,” he says, as he puts the watch on his wrist and deftly secures it as he moves back into the psychiatrist’s office from the lavatory to open the door a crack that leads back out to the main office and listens
“Yes, Melina has left—she’s always the last to go,” he tells me
I realize she was the receptionist behind the sliding glass from before
“Are you —like—working here?” I ask
He looks at me conspiringly as he shuts the door again,
“Candy Bergen is Dr. Evans assistant —until ….her return from the UK—she’s guest lecturing at the university discussing theories and how it links to archeological evidence—“
“What!?”
Jörn studies me through narrowed eyes and then shakes his head,
“let’s go,” he says and points back to the lavatory, “you go through to the other door —it leads to the office building’s corridor which leads to the elevator. Go downstairs to the ground floor and if you see anyone on the way out, and if they ask —say you are waiting for an Uber ride.”
“Where are you—“ I start to say, but as I watch what he does I realize the answer as he takes the gym-bag, now containing all of Candy Bergen’s disguise, and now fully changed into blue jeans and a gray and white pinstriped t-shirt and gym shoes as he climbs on the counter of the sink to the window above
“Oh my god, what are you doing?!” I ask him, “are you jumping or do you think you’re Spider-Man and going to scale the wall?”
He holds back a laugh and says into my ear,
“there’s a fire-escape on the other side of this wall,” and before I can respond to this, he kisses my neck behind my ear and bites my ear lobe as he says, “I’ve parked down the alley, look for a white Volvo, it’ll have an Uber sign,” then leaves a wet trail with his tongue right before he jumps out the window
“Shit….” I say a bit dazed to the empty room as I stare at the window
