July 2002

I was sitting in the sun on a lawn chair beside my familiar. We'd been chatting, but I was now content to sit silently watching the people around us. I noticed that some Hasidic Jews, three young, dark-haired males, had gathered in the chairs adjacent to us. They were discussing their religion intensely as the boy in the middle ate a thick slice of vanilla-frosted chocolate cake. I knew that the cake had something to do with the observation of some obscure tenet, but found it unusual just the same. At that moment their debate took them to a point of contention, and they became more animated, though tempers remained in check, and I felt that they might soon consult me about some matter I might be more familiar with than they. Something about outside society, perhaps. I wasn't interested in participating, so I got up and took a stroll on the grass, mindful to stay close enough by to hear their conversation. I came to a kind of steep rocky incline that rose like a natural ramp beside me, and I positioned myself so that the ramp's edge was just high enough to obscure the sun. I stared at the edge of it, hard-packed dirt embedded with stones, twigs, and clumps of weedy grass. The bright flare of the sun made the ridge look distant and washed out. As I ran a long thin stick along the edge, I overheard the Jewish scholars laughing about an old myth about the stone and the twig, and found the coincidence amusing. If they only knew. I pointed at one of the embedded stones in the dirt of the ramp, and then ran the stick over it back and forth in an attempt to dislodge it. The twig too, while I was at it. I wanted to smooth the whole thing over.

By the time I got around to making my way back to the chairs I noticed that someone had taken my seat. I felt both threatened and angry that someone had taken what was obviously my chair. It was the chair next to my familiar, after all! I decided then that I would try to make them as uncomfortable as possible, but as I approached my familiar raised her eyebrows and shrugged, and realized that this stranger had her blessing. Traitor! But no matter, I still had a job to do. I approached the man without taking my eyes off his, and strutting like I owned the whole place. Someone out of my sight saw what I was doing and asked me to lay off, implying in their tone that it was futile to try to win my chair back. They were right, and I knew that I would only end up humiliating myself. But I felt even more compelled to see this out. Affecting a cool but confrontational manner I sat before him at the foot of my familiar's chair, leaning close, and asked him how he was enjoying being here. At some point, in an even more blatant act of complicity, my familiar switched chairs with him as I watched, which made the situation even more difficult for me. Now I was attempting to talk him out of her seat - a seat that I had no rightful claim to - rather than mine. I continued to harangue the fellow, though he seemed entirely without guile. In fact he was rather friendly, and I attempt to pry him loose verbally soon fell flat.

I was a guest at a saucy bungalow, where all manners of carnal exploration were known to happen. I felt uncomfortable, over my head, but decided to while away the time by observing some of the local custom. I stood in a dark hallway looking in at a brightly-lit studio. A man standing before his camera was telling the bare-breasted young woman on the futon before him to get the cat ready. How odd! I'd certainly have to tell K. about this. The woman, meanwhile, coaxed the old gray cat, trying to get him to respond for the cameras set up just ten feet away, but he only seemed confused. Two other women, also topless, sat on the wood floor nearby, giggling at her ineptitude. Truly, the subject of the photo shoot had no facility whatsoever with cats, or at least not this one. She attempted wordplay, and some clumsy and aggressive hand gestures, but the old animal was only made uncomfortable, and left the stage completely, and approached me in the doorway. I knelt to greet the little guy, confident that I could win him over. And indeed, he purred under my hand, raising his tail and mewling hoarsely. The others took notice, and I hoped that I wouldn't be approached to join them, though it would make a hell of a story to tell K.

Later that night I sat up too late reading manuscripts. It was edging past 4 AM, but there was just too much to do to sleep, though I would certainly regret it in the morning. I was restless, and took one of the scripts with me down into the kitchen. The light from the single candle was wan and unsteady, and made the place seem empty. But I knew that the denizens had only retired to their respective rooms, there to further partake in their lustful pursuits. In fact, standing in the middle of the kitchen, I thought I could hear them even now: the rustle of bedclothes, and the occasional muffled sigh. These sounds came from two doors before me, one on each wall. Light came from beneath each, and as I studied the door on my right I found that I could actually make out vague silhouetted shapes against it, as if the door were made from some thick, translucent material, and the shadows of the the room's busy occupants were being thrown back toward me. The other door, I saw, was the same, and I looked from one to the other, mystified at this unlikely display. But as I watched the images became even more clear, and finally flared into clarity. Now I watched the occupants of the rooms as if through night vision goggles, their monochrome bodies tangled.