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2008-03-05 02:23

I don’t really know what happened to me. It’s probably still happening. I lost the desire to write; we all know that. Any idiot can see.

And, of course, to live. I’ve regained neither.

Any idiot can see.

But tonight I remembered both —after living for more than two years in a disturbingly sociable deathlike state, suffocating beneath my burgeoning, geometrically compounding, 21st-century midden (a midden of mind as much as of domestic management): I actually phoned someone important and devastating from my past, from 25 years ago, from my san francisco days, someone vital to my conception of myself and my history, of whom i am right now, as it feels, in need. Someone utterly lost to me, swallowed by time and distance, on whom i’ve never stopped utterly, debasingly, crushing out. My barby—i call her barby—she’s my barby, to me, though i think she probably despises that name now (maybe always?) and no one else in her surroundings uses it or ever has. i imagine she still introduces herself as “Barbara,” not without reason, or maybe “Barb,” with, well, some slight reason—the savaging thorn. I’d been trying to web-stalk her to no avail for many, many, many years , almost since little Timmee B-L invented the Web, i guess. Cuz my barby apparently has no web presence under any names by which I knew her or can imagine her now existing.

A couple of hours ago now, I left her—orally, aurally, drunkenly—some silly, idiotic web traces in a PHONE message.

More than anything, NOW I really want to know what SHE’S doing! She can’t NOT have a web presence, can she? I really want, Derridaliciously, to know what that absent presence is! Surely, under some name, she does something recognized on the web? Please, Barby???? Ugh. Longing, frustration. Adoration. Denial.

  ·  anecdotage

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  1. Derridaliciously, to know what that absent presence is!

    Dating    Apr 15, 02:42 PM    #
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