Friday, January 16, 2009

I've slept in this room more than anywhere else in the world. Of twenty-seven years, I'd guess maybe six years of accumulated sleep has occurred outside these walls. I don't know what I do when I sleep or how the space I sleep in affects me, but I can't help believing that means something.

I haven't stayed the night back home for a while. There was a pattern emerging, or, I saw what I wanted to see to find a pattern. Lying in this bed, in this room I've slept and dreamed and breathed most of my life in, I'd fall down a hole. No matter what my state of mind, no matter what the events of the day, closing the door and turning the light out guaranteed me a tearstorm and no sleep.

Half believe in the idea of the memory that space keeps of us.

I don't believe this room holds good memories of me.

I'm turning the light out now.

2 comments:

  1. And the rooms all smell like diesel
    And you take on the
    Dreams of the ones who've slept here.


    Good luck.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Well, I dunno about diesel...I like to think I wash regularly and don't smell. And I don't hang around diesel.

    ReplyDelete