4:42 am
The corner of my street (suburban Detroit)
It's four am and I am numb three steps outside of my door. This process began in the garage. Someone else might have waited til morning for this activity but I am compelled to write. Right now. I exist an awful lot at four am: obsessing, inebriated, the machine of my brain combusting. Right now, I want to write. I am going outside to exist in my place whether it is -3 degrees or not.
There is nothing happening- nothing- as I start down the street. Not a branch moves beneath a bounding bird. Not a cat skulks. No human stirs. One car passes. Just one. The streetlight emits a deafening hum as I stand beneath it. My corner has been frostbitten for a week. All water has become ice. The purple-orange of the night sky makes dust of the rime, dulling daytime's white sparkles to a dingy, gleaming brown. Even the thick snow is blanketed with frost. Everything appears glittery/drab beneath the dust/frost. Cold has crystallized us all, imprisoned us in ice and slowly carved us back out. I have only just begun to regain my motor skills, the effort to walk myself is a great success.
This is one of those nights where everything seems a coincidence and I am struck with the awe-inspiring and cruel re-realization that I am the great star of my life as well as the butt of the joke. This is funny to me-- the fact that I never know where I am or what is going on because I'm always, always in motion. Next week I'll be on a street corner 600 miles away and that is what's happening. The turn has been made and I'm making the turn. It has passed. It is coming.
It is too cold to stand out here 20 minutes- I walk back toward my house after 10. Everything is frozen: cold, quiet, still. I move.
What are you doing awake at 4 a.m.? I enjoy your quick sentences and rambles. They're pretty awesome. You should probably record yourself and make it into a CD. Nice work!
ReplyDelete" I exist an awful lot at four am: obsessing, inebriated, the machine of my brain combusting. Right now, I want to write. I am going outside to exist in my place whether it is -3 degrees or not."
ReplyDeleteThis is what I love and envy about you, Cassie. I'd like to tell you there won't be any ice down South to imprison you but that hasn't been true this winter. You also capture the anxiety of an impending change very well. Will you pass through Charlotte?
The exterior landscape here that you evoke, which is sad and a bit hopeless, sounds like it reflects your own internal landscape a great deal. As if you're really seeing this place and understanding that it can no longer contain your spirit somehow.
ReplyDelete"Cold has crystallized us all, imprisoned us in ice and slowly carved us back out. I have only just begun to regain my motor skills, the effort to walk myself is a great success."
ReplyDeleteYou have touched on something I am beginning to note as well...that we really are animals that want to go into hibernation during the winter, just like bears. Great job capturing the harshness of winter; don't let it get to you...
"I exist an awful lot at four am"
ReplyDeleteFor me personally, the best time to write is during the AM hours. It’s when I feel the most creative and free. The stillness, the quiet inspires.
I also admire your tenacity to go outside when it’s -3! Hope you sobered up with some hot chocolate :)