I am loving that one of the teachers at Finnian's school asked me today if we were from Europe. I said no and reminded her that it was Joe who was from the UK.
She kept talking and said:
"Well you all have this flair about you. I just thought you were from Europe."
I laughed and realized wearing the minibar key I found in my handbag as a necklace probably would give me personal interactions as such in any Presbyterian church preschool.
I was thinking about the drink today when I made this little talisman. I actually made it for my friend. My alcoholic friend. The same friend I have written about numerous times on this space because writing it down sometimes makes it shape shift and change into a sad reality I can see and deal with. I would give it to her to wear as she walks the world, a kind of friendship powered Antabuse.
I have not seen her since two days before Christmas when I told her I would not see her anymore if she is drinking. She has left her apartment and her son is with her parents and my gut tells me bad things. We are all fragile. It starts with the wide anterior fontanel and when that closes a small part of our chest wall must open and let our back heart peek out a bit.
I know what a heart is.
It is the muscular rhythmic organ that keeps us here, but it also has a back part to it I am sure.
A part way behind the chambers that holds our pain and our passion.Why else would it hurt so much inside of there?
I pretend sometimes that she must be experiencing a fugue state. It makes more sense to me. Perhaps I am the one experiencing the fugue as I close my eyes and see us 18 again and clear eyed. I see us on the precipice of everything our heart desires. I see us whole.
I am the one dissociating because years later the fucking truth is so by the grace of God go us all. There is no rhythmic order to this disease that is slowly killing my friend.
And my back heart is bleeding.
title post- Singles 1992