metafiction

i do not write on this blog often. when i do, i coat it with ambiguity. i do not write of specific happenings, or dissect my feelings and thoughts on this, that or the other. i don't want to be reduced into something less than what is. i do not want to be bare upon the table, a cadaver for an enquiring mind.
but i have a voice that sometimes longs to be heard in words, strung along into a chain of meaning. a meaning that reflects a truth. a truth that is often masked... how can i say something to someone and no one and everyone at once?

it is a cold, chilly, rain-dripped early sunday morning. in my mind it is still saturday because that makes the weekend seem longer. so it seems like i have more time to slowly pluck off the post-its on the side of my desk. each yellow post-it note bears an essay or assignment to finish in the next couple of days or so. the post-its are yellow but not so sunny.

i am missing him. weekend after weekend i try to edge him out little by little so that i have more time to spend on my readings and other things to do. i want my alone time. i want my get my room in shape time. i want my space to breathe. it has only been 3 days and all i want to do is see him. let him keep me warm. tell him my thoughts on the Michael Jackson "film" I caught today. it is 8pm in Spain. perhaps I could sneak a call, just to say hello from across the oceans...

i am prone to displacement, replacement of thought upon thought, stream upon stream of consciousness. i can convince myself of alternate realities. I can, I am, I want, I should.
maybe i should.
just write my essays. and stop thinking, stop feeling.

meanwhile, i pray your brother finds his way home this very moment..