2000-06-20



My back is pinched. My tongue is terse. The light is on in my car and I am driving in a thunderstorm. The sky cackles an electric grin of light.
     "Knock Knock Knock."
     There it is again in the back of my car; the sound of a spirit knocking. Does it want attention? It was only a minute ago that it knocked four times, upon which I screamed at the top of my lungs and turned on my interior light.
     My car must be exorcised.
     I reflect on my day at work as I pull into the driveway of the waffle house and even still the spirit knocks as I park the car.
     I open the trunk of my car to view the scene. I expect to see a murderer or a trapped child, but all I see are my dad's leftovers... Innumberable, unnameable things.. I scan with my tight eyes and close the trunk.
     I wave to Lisa and Mike as I enter the Waffle House. Mike greets me by saying, "We think you haven't been yourself lately."
     I think to myself, "You barely know me, how could you know if I've been myself," and so I ask, "Why?"
     He says, "Well, you haven't been here much lately and when you are, you're all quiet and..." Lisa watches him say this as I laugh to myself in silence. I think to myself, "I'm kooky, right? I leave in sudden, silent bursts and that freaks you out!" Instead, I interrupt his speech by saying, "I think there's a demon spirit in my car. It needs to be exorcised."
     The conversation grows dry even as Amy arrives and I soon immigrate to my own seculuded booth. I order two eggs over medium, hashbrowns with cheese and tomatoes and a coffee. In the silence of myself, I return to the going-ons of my day at work and write at length in my black journal.

Today while at work, I made the grave error of putting black and white film into our film processor to be processed. Somehow, in ways I cannot comprehend, the black and white film manages to contaminate all the chemicals in the film processor thus rendering the chemicals to be shit. I was the one responsible for this error and felt horrible because my coworker, Shawn, and my boss Tanya, who had to come in on her day off, had to fix the machine. They spent several hours draining the chemicals, cleaning the tanks, pulling the racks (which I scrubbed) and refilling the machine with new chemicals. It was a very messy ordeal and was a lot of NO-FUN for everyone. We even had to stay overtime to get everything taken care of, and as I left the photo lab at midnight (an hour after my scheduled departure) Tanya said, "You owe me." I grumbled and said my goodbyes and entered into my demon filled car and drove home.
     While I was at work, I took my half-hour "lunch" break around 8pm. I had a grilled cheese sandwich and fries. I sat down at a table looking out into the parking lot waiting for my food. I decided to be productive in my wait and I began to write. What I began to write held me captive in a train of thought that was not derailed until I went back to the photo lab, and even then I could not leave my thoughts so easily. The thoughts swelled and murmured in my head the way thoughts often do, but i was surprised at the subject matter for it was not something I thought about often.
     And so, a letter began...

Dear Beloved,

Whenever I think of a spiral, I think of you. Yes and some people call it the cosmic spiral, and so I always thought it was interesting and maybe fitting that you called it an implosion. But to me, it calls to mind the slow coaxing of galaxies toward an imperfect centered end and of the ladder of growth that spirals upwards on the chain of reincarnation. You were so wise to understand the cosmic spiral, and so beautiful to touch.
     Did you understand that I knew you before I met you? From the first glance, I recognized and loved you. And when I kissed you, it was not just a kiss but a sacred covenant from my soul to yours. And even now, I think of you and smile, even though I am no longer consumed by your spirit and image.
     You will forever stir my soul.
     When I see you, I am desperate for air, and when you look at me, I become full of emptiness. A paradox, yes, but the truth is undeniable and pure.
     If I cannot be with you then I cannot be with you, I cannot be near you or look at or hear you. You cause such a violent explosion I never imagined was possible or understood in general. I wish I had never met you because of you, I am just another girl you dated.
     And it was so brief. I was clumsy in bed. I was clumsy in love. I was clumsy in giving and sharing. I wish I could've given you better, and maybe I would've if I had the time to learn. But I never understood the competition.
     But sadly, the present is eternal and besides that, you will never return to it.

It is quarter to three in the morning, and the staff at the Waffle House still pace in their graveyard shift yelling orders to the cook. "Large white milk and steak and eggs over soft," Tandy yells. The dishwasher emits clouds of hot steam. In the next booth, two men smoke cigarettes and talk. It's pretty empty at this time of the morning.
     Tandy says, "If I stand still, I will die."

I reflect on "the truth" and yesterday's conversation with Amber. Amber is a Christian and we drew heated words on the computer screen as we spoke of spirituality and theology. She declared to me, "I'm just glad I have found the truth, and in it I will stay content."
     My only problem with that is that I do not believe that anyone can know THE TRUTH. Surely the truth exists undeniable and is pure and aware. And yet, surely mortals do not know the truth and I believe those that claim to know the truth are deceiving themselves. For the truth is immortal, it penetrates all and is the wisest of all. Humans are none of these. Can mortals even grasp the truth?
     I have always considered myself to be a truth-seeker but not a truth-knower. I work to push myself to the esoteric limits, and to awaken to the divine. But I know not the truth. So I will stick with what I know to be true: nothing.

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