At 5:30pm ‘c-u-lunk’ we both hung up. I heard you and then followed suit. What preceded was a non-fussed exchange of ‘see-ya’ and ‘bye’. The kind that is confident in its lack of longevity despite any plans to the otherwise. We mentioned some ribbons of time, that could end in several places: my house, your house, breakfast, dinner, writing essays together.
I don’t know if either of us will brave the rain, will decide that we can study together, despite quite firmly confirmed knowledge that we can’t. I revel in the not knowing, the concept expands and I apply it to everything I can think of, because I don’t really know anything. There is an assumption that I will get up and pee soon, but it could be wrong, there is an assumption that I will finish my degree and be a nurse next year, but really, who knows, maybe I will instead decide to live in a coal power station with my friends, or travel around with a tape recorder and a book and a camera. Or fall asleep and never ever wake up again.
The creeping possibilities need to stay about I think, if I am to remain un-ashen in my cheeks and the trills of thoughts speeding through my circuitry. It’s a reason I need these phone times. These splattering shakes of thought and possibility, never really needing to be coupled with plans, but more as reminders and inspirers, as jumpstarts for idea’s that will curve through like water eroding rock. That will ensure the rock does not win me over, till I am under it [Capitalist. Consumerist. Disconnected. Undone. Unfun.]
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