I follow the salaryman to the supermarket. He buys grapes and a gigantic fly swatter and pays with his ATM card. Then I follow him home, to bed, the office, to lunch, Starbucks, home again, to his mother's in the country, and finally to a love hotel.
"Don't watch me," he says.
I sit in the chair beside the bed, facing the wall, listening to the salaryman moan as he fucks the blond prostitute. When the salaryman leaves I stay behind, because even the man who follows the salaryman around needs to get some.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
answers
I caught the outer edge of the barn from my window. It was brown and faced the fields. I closed my eyes, seeing it again, as it blended with my thoughts, dragging me down.
Feel it now, I told myself. Stop thinking. You have a right to know.
I rounded a corner. Everything seemed to be moving faster, and it was then, in that moment, that I felt something: it was rough and hard and it, too, began to blend with my thoughts and memories, as it moved into my mind. And then I saw it: it didn't look like a barn anymore; it didn't look like anything at all, actually. Curious, my body moved toward it, and then into it, as it consumed me from the inside out. Like depression.
Feel it now, I told myself. Stop thinking. You have a right to know.
I rounded a corner. Everything seemed to be moving faster, and it was then, in that moment, that I felt something: it was rough and hard and it, too, began to blend with my thoughts and memories, as it moved into my mind. And then I saw it: it didn't look like a barn anymore; it didn't look like anything at all, actually. Curious, my body moved toward it, and then into it, as it consumed me from the inside out. Like depression.
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