I've sunk back into that beautiful quiet place where there's just movement. The sky is blue and clear across the horizon. Where I die as a noun and only the verb survives. Ripples, color, white noise, light, warmth.
But no more. I hear someone talking. And the "me" rushes back. They are talking to me in words and I know them. Old habits are hard to break. Now I start forming my own words in my mind: "I'm standing here on the ground. The sky above, won't fall down. See no evil in all directions. Resolution of happiness. Things have been dark for too long."
"Come on," says the woman next to me, "Its time for dinner. By the way, the residents here keep asking me if you really were in that famous Australian New Wave band.
"No Betty," I say, remembering her name. After all, I had been at her clinic for some time now--she is kind of hard to forget being married to a former president an all. "I was not a guitarist in INXS. Can't they tell? I mean really, listen to my accent, do I sound Australian? More words start forming in my mind: "Well you know just what you do to me, the way you move, all soft and slippery, cuts the night just like a razor, rarely talk and that's the danger. Its the one thing."
"Ah, but you fit the mold, truth be told," she continues. "Too much too fast, fame, fortune, money, drugs, booze, women, that's what brought you here wasn't it? Only 24, and you were on the road to nowhere when your manager brought you in."
I hate it when they get personal. "Listen to me one last time," I said, speaking very emphatically for effect: "They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said No, No, No. Yes, I'd been black, but when I get back, you will know know know. Besides, I ain't got the time, and my daddy thought I was fine. He tried to make me go to rehab, but I won't go, go, go."
"Your parents are alright," said Betty. "I met them. They just seem a little weird."
But by then, I had already lost it. The little voice in my head was now a big voice. I picked up my guitar and I announced to the world as loud as I could: "I was standing. You were there. Two worlds collided. And they could never tear us apart."
"No Betty," I say, remembering her name. After all, I had been at her clinic for some time now--she is kind of hard to forget being married to a former president an all. "I was not a guitarist in INXS. Can't they tell? I mean really, listen to my accent, do I sound Australian? More words start forming in my mind: "Well you know just what you do to me, the way you move, all soft and slippery, cuts the night just like a razor, rarely talk and that's the danger. Its the one thing."
"Ah, but you fit the mold, truth be told," she continues. "Too much too fast, fame, fortune, money, drugs, booze, women, that's what brought you here wasn't it? Only 24, and you were on the road to nowhere when your manager brought you in."
I hate it when they get personal. "Listen to me one last time," I said, speaking very emphatically for effect: "They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said No, No, No. Yes, I'd been black, but when I get back, you will know know know. Besides, I ain't got the time, and my daddy thought I was fine. He tried to make me go to rehab, but I won't go, go, go."
"Your parents are alright," said Betty. "I met them. They just seem a little weird."
But by then, I had already lost it. The little voice in my head was now a big voice. I picked up my guitar and I announced to the world as loud as I could: "I was standing. You were there. Two worlds collided. And they could never tear us apart."
No comments:
Post a Comment