Difference between revisions of "2003-02-24 As Tigger lay dying"

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The night Brian called me in Durham and said it was time for me to be here, half-seen things seemed to scurry around the dark recesses of the upstairs
The night Brian called me in Durham and said it was time for me to be here, half-seen things seemed to scurry around the dark recesses of the upstairs
hallway. They looked like dark grey-brown ghosts in the shape of rats or slugs. I imagined they were the product of my overactive imagination, messengers and workers engaged in the errands of managing one life's transition into whatever happens next. I wondered what they were doing in my house rather than in Tigger's. Was my life somehow more in transition than hers? Were our lives so closely entwined that such a transition in her life would necessarily involve me?
hallway. They looked like dark grey-brown ghosts in the shape of rats or slugs. I imagined they were [either] the product of my overactive imagination, [or possibly] messengers and workers engaged in the errands of managing one life's transition into whatever happens next. I wondered what they were doing in my house rather than in [[Tigger]]'s. Was my life somehow more in transition than hers? Were our lives so closely entwined that such a transition in her life would necessarily involve me?


Having watched everyone around me break into tears repeatedly while I have felt only the vaguest impulses of grief, at most a diffuse fog of sadness, I realize that I am still mourning [[Jenny]] more than I mourn for Tigger. Or is it that I'm mourning my own lost life? It's only been so very recently that I realized much of my yearning for Jenny was actually yearning for how my life should have been that it is still difficult to separate the two griefs.
Having watched everyone around me break into tears repeatedly while I have felt only the vaguest impulses of grief, at most a diffuse fog of sadness, I realize that I am still mourning [[Jenny]] more than I mourn for Tigger. Or is it that I'm mourning my own lost life? It's only been so very recently that I realized much of my yearning for Jenny was actually yearning for how my life should have been that it is still difficult to separate the two griefs.
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[[Category:Woozle writings|2003-02-24 As Tigger lay dying]]
[[Category:Woozle writings|2003-02-24 As Tigger lay dying]]
[[Category:Tigger|2003-02-24 As Tigger lay dying]]

Latest revision as of 22:47, 18 September 2017

2003-02-24

status: early afternoon, Brian's house in Berkeley

The night Brian called me in Durham and said it was time for me to be here, half-seen things seemed to scurry around the dark recesses of the upstairs hallway. They looked like dark grey-brown ghosts in the shape of rats or slugs. I imagined they were [either] the product of my overactive imagination, [or possibly] messengers and workers engaged in the errands of managing one life's transition into whatever happens next. I wondered what they were doing in my house rather than in Tigger's. Was my life somehow more in transition than hers? Were our lives so closely entwined that such a transition in her life would necessarily involve me?

Having watched everyone around me break into tears repeatedly while I have felt only the vaguest impulses of grief, at most a diffuse fog of sadness, I realize that I am still mourning Jenny more than I mourn for Tigger. Or is it that I'm mourning my own lost life? It's only been so very recently that I realized much of my yearning for Jenny was actually yearning for how my life should have been that it is still difficult to separate the two griefs.

2003-02-25

status: notes written on the plane

Airplanes are loneliness.

There's a ghost on my back. (Or are there two?)

The main reason I left when I did, I think, was that being away from home is painful.