subway pages

 I think I have read far too many Brontë novels. Or, no—I think I have ….too often paused over their words. Spent hours of time so lost within their minds. Sometimes it is I become a character within their world. I say this because ….well, it was not long ago I read Charlotte’s tale of Villette which I think is my favorite of hers, even more than Jane Eyre. I think that is who I have morphed into; that character but oddly squashed into the uniform of our millennium. It is no wonder. But then ….think of Charles Dickens as he too is as much to blame for ….my Oliver twist that.be.me.

but 

….don’t I live only among words ? it is an odd thing about me. if you don’t follow the Easter eggs you won’t get it and I know some of you do get it 

I start to understand now more what this is about. Yes I know how important it was to Charlotte to be in print 

It’s a different world now and it’s a Matrix and I think the power I have is —words— like my dear Mr. Page once told me when I was his teacher’s pet at age 12. He was the first one who saw me. But he died. Soon after I knew him of aids and…. though this be a tangent of thoughts in streams —it was meant to arrive at the fact the father of me as a writer was a gay man who adored me. And he is always with me because I did not exist until he noticed me when he read my words to the class, then looked at me in front of everyone and said, “you are a writer.”

dyslexic girl of twelve; puff, born! in his eyes. He was the first person ever to tell me I was pretty. He looked like Freddie Mercury during the mustache phase(and had the same arrogance and flamboyance); so—do the math dear readers and wonder how mixed up I am in my ideas of love and adoration (a complicated Victor Victoria version, like the Julie Andrew’s movie) ….anything the opposite of that man my mother was married to 

these asides are literary markers (I always write all over books in the margins my remarks to the author as if they are there) (‘why’d you say that there?’ ‘You ruined that scene you know!’) and often fix their mistakes.

I realize I am intended to be this odd creature that I am so, I hardly care about selling my soul as an artist 

I never could ….this is me. Who I am. I take it wherever I go. That friend of mine who thought she was me and tried to take Electra from me —it shows how extreme ….those that encounter me 

well, take it to the streets I think 

Electra’s dictionary & film noir/jmmusechroncontinues;Evasions are bullshit

 

When we get into the penthouse, Andreas says,

“What do you mean?”

Only I’m in search of food and head blindly through the darkened halls straight for the kitchens, snd I remember the way as if through muscle memory 

only once at the kitchens does any source of light provide. When I open the huge double door stainless steel refrigerator large enough to contain enough food for a small army and ….

 “well….” as I look inside the fridge …. “hmm….” And start checking dates ….carrots still somewhat firm …. feta; is that yogurt? the spinach may still be ok but then find some stuffed grape leaves and happily find a spot to devour them 

“So?” he says

“So….?” I say

“And….”

“And….?”

“About his silences leaving so many scenarios?”

“Oh.well—that he is living not just a double life but a triple quadruple life. Not is he fucking someone but how many and what kind so what purpose do I even serve in his life? Back scrubber as he has a good laugh at my expense fucking every Tom Dick and Harry, so—then maybe I’m irrelevant and ….I don’t like that feeling, Andreas. It makes me want to ….behave like a terrible brat but—I’m better than that so, I come to my penthouse, you see?”

 si heureux que vous soyez ici!  Merci!  🎄 en ce moment, j'ai vraiment tellement besoin de toi. god Jul

just takes one tap and~gone 

Electra’s dictionary & film nioir; (jmmusechroncont)sketch

 

next scene with Andreas:

We find our way through the fire-escape off Jörn’s floor. The way to the penthouse’s secret other entrance via the fire escape 

Andreas says in a tone of question 

“you are angry at my father….” 

but I only glance up at him and keep what I’m doing. He watches me and tries to read me, I feel it

But then I say 

“There is so much he does not tell me, Andreas ….I don’t mean about the spy stuff. And when there is so much room for silence ….the mind fills in ….MANY…. scenarios ….”

 when the digital clock strikes 6:66 

shut off the alarm 

More smörgås/e.d.&film noir

 

And as I find myself blankly staring at Elsa with, no idea how to respond to that, I sort of just stammer there frozen, “uh….yeah….” on the spot. 

Déjà vu. 

How does she always do this to me?

I turn to Jörn for help but he seems slightly terrified of his mother at the moment judging by the look on his face,

“mamma!”

But she turns her icy gaze at him with her perfectly arched brows that could shoot an apple off your head and slice it with their precision,

“ja, Jörn?  har du något att säga?”

but I don’t don’t know what it means 

But Jörn replies in English,

“really?”

“‘Really’ —vad?” And shoots more arrows 

“‘Nice of you to rejoin the party’? Would you say you rolled out the red carpet in the past?”

“What are you talking about? I brought a gift for her that time when you were —“

“I think your presentation might have been lacking that time too,” but he says this under his breath

Oh right, the perfume. Which she opened on the spot. She thought I needed a shower as I recall,

“oh the Hamptons!” I say foolishly as it suddenly vividly dawns. 

That was the day when we were hiding from Stina and the Swedish intelligence director guy; what was his name? I think it was Marcus ….but now I am here in Jörn’s New York City apartment which …. 

“Has anyone seen Ilya or the penthouse lately?” I blurt out before considering who I’m addressing. Must be concussed 

“Coffee?” Jörn suddenly says and looks at me 

Josef clears his throat loudly and everyone looks at him. When I look at him he gives me a wink, but not within Elsa’s view and gestures for me to go to the kitchen with Jörn with two jerks of his head in both directions respectively 

I don’t need coercion to get out of her line of fire and walk straight for the kitchen. 

“What are you doing? Have you forgotten where I keep the coffee?”

As I’m opening cabinets and searching his refrigerator,

“no I’m starving, I don’t remember when I last ate but ….” most of what I find seem more Ikea than what I know ….”what is this?” I ask pulling a bowl from a shelf

“Mamma’s saffron batter,” he says 

No idea what that means, so I put it back,

“maybe Ilya has stocked the penthouse fridge,” I say and start to head out towards the direction out

“Wait, where’re you going?” Jörn grabs my shoulder and stops me, turns me around 

“Wha—excuse me? I am not obligated to—“

“Duvan!” but it is Hanna now, “I’m so glad to see you—I wanted to tell you news with Eric and I!”

“Oh please—!” Jörn seems suddenly enraged 

“Pappa! You have no business trying to—“

“What am I trying to do, Hanna? Stop you from making a huge mistake—“

I manage to slip past without them being aware, not realizing Andreas was watching from the other room and walks over to me.

“Ambush,” I say looking up at him

“If you really want to get out of here for a few minutes, I wouldn’t mind seeing the penthouse again, but don’t you need a key?”

“No, it has the combination code, remember? Let’s go,” I say