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2002-02-16 Jane has tea making and more importantly, tea enjoying down to an art form. She steeps so elegantly. Six washers going simultaneously from afar. Cramps. And I don't have a very good handle on time anymore. My body moves though I don't move with it. Disjoint. A body as a crane though my head operating from radio controls from time zones away. Very much a spectator of my own going-on's, which makes for awkward pauses in speaking. I spoke to my mother like a robot this morning with mechanical giggles. Trying to make time as abstract as I can. Stretch it here, shorten it here, tease it, bend it around this space. Where am I? Time to fold. |