ghost, again
i know there is at least one person in the world who is, or has, looked at this thing so for you-- whomever you are, is more. i just hope you like it.
November 14th 2001
I have been dating my entries wrong. Two of them at least. November comes after October. September comes before. Why did I not know that until I saw the paper. I saw the date and put the paper’s date on my journal.
Was I looking at old papers? No. That’s not possible. Surely I would know if they were old. I didn’t know what was in them. I didn’t know what they were talking about so surely they were new.
I just looked at the pile that is all over the place. The pile I think I scattered in one of my rages a long while back, or was it just a little while back... I don’t know. I can’t remember. There are dates from June 6th 1998 to April 22nd 2005.
I don’t recall either of these years. I don’t remember anything from the papers. I don’t remember a single event. I have no clue who these people are. Who are these people? What is going on?
What day is it? What year?
Why can I not at least know the date?
I guess I should not date my entries based on old newspapers anymore.
Saturday
I no longer wish to date my entries. Why should I. It doesn’t matter. My dates will not match up to any real ones. Besides, I just read something rather depressing on the cover of the paper I read for today, apparently something rather wretched happened on September 11th. Something about some planes and large buildings in New York.
I ran about outside again. Ran I suppose is not an accurate word. I don’t run, I don’t walk, I am not exactly sure how I move. Science says that one must have something to push against in order to move in relation, but I can push against nothing. I go through things and it is most irritating not being able to lean against a wall or sit upon a couch. Well sometimes I can’t and sometimes I can. Right now I am sitting on the window sill writing. Not that it matters where I write. The light only makes things turn various shades of grey.
I really don’t like the color grey.
Entry 6
I have decided that calling days by their names is almost as foolish as trying to guess the date by old headlines. So I won’t. I shall instead date my entries as I have this one.
I realized last night just how big and isolated this house is. It truly is. It looks like a small palace. There is marble everywhere and stone and glass and rooms upon rooms for me to wander through. A perfect place for me to– no, we won’t make a crack like that. It isn’t funny. Not funny at all.
November 14th 2001
I have been dating my entries wrong. Two of them at least. November comes after October. September comes before. Why did I not know that until I saw the paper. I saw the date and put the paper’s date on my journal.
Was I looking at old papers? No. That’s not possible. Surely I would know if they were old. I didn’t know what was in them. I didn’t know what they were talking about so surely they were new.
I just looked at the pile that is all over the place. The pile I think I scattered in one of my rages a long while back, or was it just a little while back... I don’t know. I can’t remember. There are dates from June 6th 1998 to April 22nd 2005.
I don’t recall either of these years. I don’t remember anything from the papers. I don’t remember a single event. I have no clue who these people are. Who are these people? What is going on?
What day is it? What year?
Why can I not at least know the date?
I guess I should not date my entries based on old newspapers anymore.
Saturday
I no longer wish to date my entries. Why should I. It doesn’t matter. My dates will not match up to any real ones. Besides, I just read something rather depressing on the cover of the paper I read for today, apparently something rather wretched happened on September 11th. Something about some planes and large buildings in New York.
I ran about outside again. Ran I suppose is not an accurate word. I don’t run, I don’t walk, I am not exactly sure how I move. Science says that one must have something to push against in order to move in relation, but I can push against nothing. I go through things and it is most irritating not being able to lean against a wall or sit upon a couch. Well sometimes I can’t and sometimes I can. Right now I am sitting on the window sill writing. Not that it matters where I write. The light only makes things turn various shades of grey.
I really don’t like the color grey.
Entry 6
I have decided that calling days by their names is almost as foolish as trying to guess the date by old headlines. So I won’t. I shall instead date my entries as I have this one.
I realized last night just how big and isolated this house is. It truly is. It looks like a small palace. There is marble everywhere and stone and glass and rooms upon rooms for me to wander through. A perfect place for me to– no, we won’t make a crack like that. It isn’t funny. Not funny at all.
posted by Nancy | 8:16 PM
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