Old Man with Walking Stick
Woman who was named Walking Stick.
If you tell someone to look out the window, I'm going to do that
Cup of Tea
It was a lukewarm cup with ice cubes and he
didn't really know how to make it but we liked it. We liked it because he
had made it for us and it was good and a lovely color. A sort of sweet
and cloudy chartreuse and then later I told her how to spell
The Aleatory Man
Believed he could fly, and flew there.
Asked for what he got, and wanted it. Hooked himself up to a printer and
printed him out.
Table Holding Things To Be Done
This is my favorite table, everyone has
one. The more you pile on it the more interesting it eventually becomes.
Slips of paper here for example from harder times and from longer people.
Also a photo of dandruff, a piece of white locket.
Suddenly, then, a train goes by, though
there are no tracks: just how does it happen? And a fur coat, and a fake
fur coat, dead animals, no dead animals. I don't care if he gossips if he
doesn't wear fur.
Was he a "verbal listener" and did we know
it, did we discuss it? Did you listen verbally, did you? I
depend on it. For my life.
The Candelabra Tree
I told C it was beautiful karma to get rid
of the holes, the holes were all dirty. Especially if we were trying to
fill up the holes and deny it, there's no denying.
The Glass of Water
In the night, not even really in a
glass--in a ceramic cup, blue-green cup without a handle--and in the
night it was a great comfort, thank you, with an aspirin aspiring, just
one, just one.
Not much there, and yet he will empty it. I
tell him to, but he empties each folder. It could be the weather. I've
forgotten his name.
Or was it counterfactual? Can we
believe it. Is this another issue of trust, of "confidante trauma" of
battered life syndrome? Could I exist in a house made of windows, I don't
think so. I know so, not, not.
Tower of Ciphers
Nonsense indeed; it is not nonsense.
Not-sense. Not not-sense at all and I'm sorry, it's not. It could be,
that's as far as I'll go, but it isn't.
Finally we get it to be true, but it's not
that easy. We have to rearrange everything. Was she disconcerted by this?
I imagine so, but he says she wasn't. He's not being realistic, however,
and that's my humble opinion.
Monument to the Phantom
You can't see it. You can dream it, but you
have never seen it, it is that real. You dream it and you recognize it,
but it is only in your dreams and in truth you find it all the time in
real life but you cannot see it. The phantom can.
Diane Wald | Screen Eleven
Contents | Mudlark No.