emancipated dissonance from the desk of renee ann

emancipated dissonance

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

the way i imagine it happened

somewhere, a man woke up
it was a sunday and the street was quiet
he stared at the ceiling
the fan wobbled, and went click click click click
he closed his eyes again and listened
drumming one finger on his chest with the beat
his mind otherwise blank

after some time
he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up
just like every day
the thought came and flitted away leaving nothing
in the kitchen, he poured cheerios into a styrofoam bowl
and skim milk
heart healthy irony
the thought came and flitted away

he stooped on the couch, tall, spine too lazy for good posture
and ate his breakfast with a plastic spoon
eyes lingering mostly on the silent dark television
the fan going click click click click from the bedroom
and his big toe tapping out the beat

he poured the last of the milk down the drain
picked up a stray cheerio from the floor
filled his trash can with the waste of morning

teeth were brushed to the rhythm of the fan
old magazines on the nightstand straightened into a neat pile
and with an empty backpack and the garbage
he locked his deadbolt
and slid the key back under the door

outside, it was september
there was no one out on his street
despite the invitation of sunshine to enjoy the last
lingering strains of summer

he started to walk

the ATM at the gas station three blocks later
told him his balance
it was dissatisfying to find that
after a stack of withdrawn twenties
there was still a balance
a loose end

the clerk was talking on the phone
to her boyfriend or something, probably
and ignoring him
so he started putting twenty dollar bills in the change machine
until it ran out of ones
and quarters

his backpack was heavy now
and he walked and walked
feeling the weight of it on his stooping shoulders lazy spine
and stepping to the rhythm of the fan
it bothered him that he forgot to turn it off
and he thought of the $17.80 in the bank account
but there was nothing to be done about it

i am not sure if the man ate lunch
but i've been wondering
it bothers me
but there is nothing to be done about it

it was late afternoon by now
his feet were tired, the curve of his spine was deep with the weight of the quarters
the street was still quiet
or maybe it wasn't. maybe he was just deaf to it.
but finally he arrived
to the place he had decided on
weeks ago

he did not stand still
looking over the cement barrier through the chain link
he did not ponder
his mind was blank
the plan was non-negotiable now, in the late september sunday afternoon
he did not stand still

he climbed
and as an afterthought
dropped his heavy backpack to the ground

the top of the chain link fence was not sturdy
he had to catch his balance three times
but got over safely
ironically, the thought came
and his feet reached the cement wall

and he didn't dive
he didn't close his eyes and hop or step
his inner ear just disconnected
he turned off the ability to balance
without waiting, his long body tipped away from the bridge

i think time slowed down then
and everything was suddenly vibrant
he could hear the sounds of the busy roads
above and below him
colors were brighter than he'd ever seen them
he felt exhilarated
and then nothing

people ran to look
at his brain
in bloody bits
his lazy spine mangled
by the car that hit him when he landed
tires squealing
jaws dropped

and there were children looking
men and women looking
before the police came
and shooed everyone away

someone had to clean up the mess
the waste of the afternoon
after pictures were taken
hose it all down
he thought of that part
it was the only thing that made him feel a little guilty

and the thing that bothers me most
even more than the looking
more than the conversations
that so desperately shifted to other topics
to put smiles in front of brains
horrified but suddenly grateful
to be in one piece

the thing that bothers me
is not knowing if he ate lunch
did the growl of hunger follow him?
did he think "why bother?"
or did he go through the motions of his last day
figuring that self denial was beside the point

i don't even wonder about his reasons
he wanted to make an impact
to be seen
seen in pieces
he wanted us to understand that we, too, are made of pieces
and that, in the ways we are pieces of each other
there is a terrible black nothingness
that provokes not anger, not desperation, not intensity
but more of itself, growing to swallow up parts of us
and all of him

and all the looking had something to do with acknowledging
our, collective, culpability
it was an apology
a recognition

sir, i am sorry. i am so sorry.

posted by renee 9:44 AM


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my band(mates)
thomas built the wall
casey on the drums

other friends
joa jean
nate t
nate b
the MAN i hate
my ex-neighbor

some i wish were my friends

music i listen to
band of horses
zoe keating
rilo kiley
(jenny lewis)
mr 1986
regina spektor
iron & wine
the new pornographers
radio on
the combo
emiliana torrini
sigur ros
nickel creek
trampled by turtles
the hold steady
the decemberists
del the funky homosapien
death cab
tv on the radio

the guys that review it
jason (in a kilt)
peter c

and the places to hear it
the fine line
varsity theater
the 400 bar
first avenue

found magazine
my pottery teacher
my favorite designer
aesthetic apparatus
the friendly stegosaurus

railroad illusions
we'll go sit on a coal car
bask in the soft light
and dream of a someday
simpler than this one

take a walk with me tonight, my dear
away from complications
away from fluorescent lights

we'll go lay on a rooftop
breathe in the sweet smoke
and talk of a place that’s
so far from this one

take a walk with me tonight, my dear
away from complications
away from conditioned air

we'll get lost under covers
smile at our trite words
and fall for a vision
so far from the truth

take a walk with me tonight, my dear
away from complications
away from the flightless facts

LEMUR is the answer!!