Alien Landscape

the silence of colliding plates.

i have a talent of washing dishes without noise.
my dish-washing is silent as graveyard when angry. a few moments ago, anger was flared dangerously close to loss of logic and control. it all went back in shooting to my head and heart.

dish-washing was quiet. no clangs or clings from utensils. everything was done with the controlled discipline of disgraceful anger. just water running quietly and plates and utensils floating silently back and forth. uncanny. and that soothened me. the weirdness of all of it. the redness of anger ebbed slowly into my veins. not one sound. i take comfort in muteness and quiet.

the routine robot sanity of MRT dullards move briskly like poodles. there is no beauty in their movement. with anger in my blood, everything slowed down. i watched as plates touched without salutations. the beauty of water running. animated stalactites and stalagmites. puddles which remind me all too well of the past. "the image may be disturbed but in the end, it reforms once again"

i saw again the sanity of dullards. i saw them dance this time. governed by programmed grace, and made beautifully imperfect by their beaten down emotion.

Connor sung, the angry are animals, senseless and savage, they act without order, in logical lapses.
no Connor. the angry are dancers, poisoned and graceful, they walk without movement, in logical ascent.

well of course now i have a gargantuan headache.
Posted by NHJ 3/26/2005 11:26:00 pm

Saturday, March 26, 2005