Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The lost duvet: Drawing a Day August 16, 2011

When I dream I feel that urine is not very far from the equation.

I am naked and am covering myself with a large white duvet. I wrap myself in the duvet like a hermit. I vacillate between the status of virgin and slut so that the lines are blurred- as if I am sitting still on the Gravitron and you all are spinning past me in unrecognizable fuzz. As I stand there, I begin to pee. I thought it was safe and for a moment I was at the toilet. But as often happens the world moved two places to the right and the toilet is now the dinner table.

I am naked or perhaps I am nude. One tends to be the more vulgar of the two and I can never get it straight as to which is the naughty one. I do not think of myself as naughty, although I am told otherwise.

Nude is innocent and perhaps diligent. Naked implies that misbehaving is intended. As if my naked body is a bad thing. As if I am the reason all is wrong failing sinking going to shit.

Well, then perhaps I am the scapegoat and therefore I can never be nude, only naked. Despite these distinctions, I pull the duvet tight around me, hiding those bits of me that are deemed questionable and inappropriate to the standards. But the standards like the room setting continuously change and I am left peeing on a pie plate rather than a bed pan.

I do not mean to create any impropriety. I am merely trying to get to a consistent place where I can either pee in peace, get some clothing to wear and/or make peace with what I’ve got. But the fucking standards never stay still. God is a banker intent on making as much money as he can pound out of us.

Strike that.

There is no god. The back room banker boys think they are gods and somehow we all drink the Cool-aid.

Ahh, but there is no room for blasphemy when one is wearing a duvet and sporting a full bladder.

My cover is getting soiled. Dirt lines the bottom as it drags on the ground, creating a fetid ombre pattern up into the hooding. I am tired. I am a room that used to be a pink alive party but all the guests trashed the place and left just as the police arrived. No one claims responsibility and I am left with nothing but brokenness. Rather than stay in myself I leave, wander elsewhere.

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