secret motel

Chest and back pain woke me early this morning after sleeping only a few hours. I sat up for a while and listened to the rain. The sound of rain is such a comfort. I managed to fall asleep and land in a dream in which I was riding on the bus through downtown SF early on a drizzly morning. It was very peaceful, because there were no other people or cars around. Then the goddamn phone woke me up. It was R. calling at 8:30 a.m. to ask me if I had received the wedding invitation. I haven't been to work since Wednesday, so I imagine it's waiting for me on my desk. "Why do you sound so sleepy?" she asked. She hasn't really pressured me in the few conversations we've had in recent weeks. But this morning she was once again really insistant that I attend the wedding next month. Why, why, why does she want me to suffer? I should stop answering the phone. She has a bright new life ahead of her. I wish she would enjoy it and forget about me.

I couldn't go back to sleep after our conversation. I was too agitated. Not even the rain helped. I got up, made some tea, and worked on another draft of a story that's been slowly mutating for months now. That, too, agitated me. I think one of the reasons why, these days, I don't spend as much time writing is that the characters (much like real people) confront me with issues I'd rather not think about anymore.

I think I'm ready to unplug the phone, drop it into a big box with all my writing, and dump the whole thing into the Bay.

I'm letting go of things. I'm letting go of the few people I used to cling to.

All I want is to pour another drink and listen to the rain.