NOWT

Born into understanding via circumstance went the girl. Out & in through the doors of the hospital twice a day for three months. Finally held screaming in a nervous Father’s arms, held out; as an offering; as an embodiment of fragility and shock. How will this world form into its series of associations; what form will you take my love; my love; love? Embarrassment cut late into the teens deeply and deeper it went in the face of twenties as she wished to be any other; any other; but, other. Ah- the lists have grown, are flung from windows each summer to be found dirtied, damp and deciphered each winter. Bruises have bloomed at the veins-blue of an outer arm; at the thick end of a pearly spine. Gentle stains remain violent acts. A wood eventually close; stalk animal-vegetable-mineral; camera shutter shutting out rhythmically. Every image a fool of truth. Every white border surrounding nothing. Every one seeing every one a lover of the eye.

This time last year was different. I can not explain the sensations of that time for now they seem as space. This time last year I was not necessarily here. I was fundamentally else-where. But then I put my mind to considering the now and I found; hidden; not well hidden, that… I am still else-where, but closer. No body ever drifted as image through my mind, & nakedness lay without power; overwhelmed, tidally, by the nude. I see outside of where I am today, it is populated by the naked. The clothed, the unclothed, the gloved, the un-gloved. And thinking on removal twists something nice in my belly. Nerve and blade of hair delight in my breath. Panic is now the hunted; I am seeking a new trophy; there are rituals; I am soaked in gin for beautiful emolliating. I wonder if I will ever iron and the wonder is grey domestic hell and patience-weathered children. Oh god, the creases. Oh god, the creases. Even if you don’t believe please bow your heads. To our headmistress we were hydra. Some-body has spread faeces all over the mainschoolgirlstoilets. And I am new to the word and hear Dead Unborn Babies. I must see this. What art! But it was shit. Thinking too much has made my brain a lethargic wanderer, so slow is my progress that I get to see every detail; every god. I fall asleep before I see where I am. I continue. But I have seen death.

Lean to catch the shock &

Let it warm the left arm,

Before it becomes too hot

And hurts you.

A friend of ours went to work in The States. You hadn’t heard from her in a while and she was more your friend than mine so you were pissed off and I wasn’t. She left me and Debbie some tasks; in the garage were notes explaining what we had to do. I waited for Debbie to go in there first. I could just walk in and have Debbie tell me. No reading some stupid note. I was watching tv when our friend who had moved to The States appeared on it; she was interviewing Jarvis Cocker. After the interview the person hosting the rest of the show said ‘and that was our new reporter Marie, she dies not long after that interview is recorded. We’re looking for new hairdressers to take her place.’ I felt confused and a bit nauseous and put off contacting you in favour of a trip to the garage. When I got to the garage there was a gang of people there who I didn’t recognise, I pushed past them and opened the garage door. There were eight beautiful sheets of paper; red, gold, twilight blue- luminous and exciting; grass green; two heavy cartridge cream and two with a design of geometric skies, grey and darker grey. On top of the sheets of paper, that were all different sizes, was a note that said- ‘moons, moons, moons, moons, MOONS, MOONS, MOONS, MOONS’ and underneath a little drawing of eight moons- waxing and waning. You were there next to me suddenly and you said ‘at least you won’t have to do that now she’s dead.’

I am in the city with my mum and dad, we are looking for some household item or other; possibly a sofa; possibly a kettle; I don’t know, every time I try to think clearly a fog of thick combs down my vision. We are in a department store, but it is long since abandoned. We search all the floors and I have to stop my mum using the lift; it is obviously broken and she nearly steps- repeatedly- into the void of the emptied shaft. I leave them to it and cross the road to the Chinese supermarket, I take a wrong turn and end up on the seventh floor- large number sevens painted on every long long corridor wall. ‘’This is definitely where the science labs are’ I think to myself, from the windowed wall I see my parents leave the department store and step out onto the twilight blue street. I run and run and run and run and throw myself down the steps to get to them, I catch them just before they go in to another derelict building. ‘come on lissyer’ says dad. ‘yes,come on!’ says mum.

A banner over the back of the shop (we are now in a comic store-) says ‘THAT TIME AGAIN’ as I look it says ‘THAT TIME ALISIA’ –I tug at my dad’s coat but by the time he turns around the sign no longer bears my name. We walk to the back of the shop and down the stairs. A cut in time takes me to my self and my dad crouched over plans of buildings in the city centre- he is asking me what the party ‘here’ was like and how big the space is… ‘it’s very small, smaller than our toilet but with over two hundred people down there’ I say.

We cut in time back to now…

Down steps

Many people

Katy’s party

Last year Nick played the piano, says my voice.

It’s so big this space- it seems to not have an end, or a beginning for that matter.

We (i) leave- up the now wet steps that twitter and twist beneath my feet. Back out onto the street. We go through another door- we make Mum walk ahead of us… a fluttering blond hostess comes forward and asks us a question ‘which Groucho Marx wannabe was caught brawling in Leeds High Street yesterday?’ –uh, Noel Gallagher! I immediately think- (eyebrows?!). The answer, it turns out, is Jude Law ( typical of Jude Law, always trying to convince everyone he’s free, goes my inner voice).

I walk through the green glass doors- I am high heeled, I tap tap tap- I am tall I am thin and I am different. My mum and dad are gone. It is ok. I do not feel bad.

Corridors; one away in front, one to the left. To the left people are bowled away in some sort of gravity free longness. They look very happy. They look blissful as they bowl away. Some bowl slow, some bowl fast. I walk straight ahead.

People are strapping themselves into suits. Click click click click go the straps. Like old fashioned seatbelts. Real safety harnesses. The corridor grows wider and lower and darker.

We (other people surround me now) are moving s o o o o slowly

I’m with friends from school. They are better than me. Their hair is so brushed-looking.

Close by two famous faces- distorted, whispering- offer me filter tips for the fag I’m rolling so clumsily  s o   c l u m s i l l y   .

They telescope out at me and away to me and a bit over me, a bit, only a bit- these filter tips- I can’t get one the right size, they are the yellow of exposed bone, old old bone

Archaeology- all the people move away from me.   I have watched the bouncers,

they that flicker in the half light,

and change

into wart hogs

and

wolves, bared teeth-

teeth bared, at me, to my right. 

 ---I wonder where my mum is, she looked so pretty today. My heart doesn’t bother to hurt though my mind ventures near the usual triggers

Bouncer approaches- asks if he can put the light on, may I ? may I? He flicks the switch, nothing nothing nothing. I am trying to remember something. I am trying and trying and then I am awake. A moment. Black yawning. Gummy darkling smiles.

A moment.

Who suggested this in the first place?

It certainly wasn’t me.

Nor me.

It was me.

You just said it wasn’t.

I lied.

Lying is wrong.

Hey look, Harold Pinter’s on Newsnight Review!

Oh, I kinda like the funny people shouting more.

Oh, come on! It’s Harold Pinter!

Ok.