sections 1/2

3. Continuations
That was the last time I saw her, atop that old dirty projector. After we had finished we just lied there amongst ancient treasure chests that held no value to us, old linen cloths woven and rewoven, mouse traps outsmarted and mice all the smarter. There wasn't much conversation to mention. There was touching of hands to necks, brushing of legs to chests, words murmured then quickly digested, but mostly just silence. We both knew soon she was to leave for college. I anticipated the day I got to watch her walk off into the airport carrying her luggage. She has a way of carrying her luggage that is unmatched by any other. As if shes holding it in a way to suggest her immediate return, as if she wishes she wasn't carrying it in the first place, as if she hates that fu.cking luggage as much as I do.

[My name is Oliver Radson and I now live alone. My name is Oliver Radson, I swear it, I swear it, I sware. I tell myself this, over and over, to re iterate my existence, to occupy the persistence of fleeting premonitions I have of being alone.]

Olivia's old house is up for sale, I saw a young asian couple drive real slow past it. They looked like they knew what they wanted. Newly married. They want big oak drawers to keep their silverware in. They want a freshly painted bedroom where their first child can live. They want cupboards amongst cupboards, so many cupboards they won't know what to do with. Someday they will find safety in the empty cupboards. They'll go out and buy new coffee mugs and glass dinner plates to put in the them. They'll probably never use the plates or mugs, but they'll feel better buying them.

[Today smells like 1904. Today feels like 1904. Today tastes like 1904. Today very much resembles 1904. In 1904, the fastest car could only travel 91.37 miles per hour. In 1904 Theodore Roosevelt was elected president. In 1904, the Japanese invaded Russia and made war. In 1904, the first New Year's eve celebration was held in Times Square. In 1904, people still ****ed and made love like we do today. In 1904, minds were simpler and people worried less. In 1904, movies were silent and the actors never digressed. In 1904, girls didn't leave you for college and semester exams. In 1904.]

A silent Indian summer lulls infinitely forward, towards the sting of December and the white grass of winter. I am sitting on a porcelain chair I made in art class during 8th grade. I see so many things I would have done differently to it now. I would have used less blues and more greens. I would have painted a maple tree instead of a pine. I would have called and called her and wrapped her in my persistence. I would have gone with her to college. I swear it, I swear it, I sware.
Last edited by rushmore at Dec 5, 2009,