the war of rumors
Oct. 4th, 2001 09:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aslantempty night.
i was the only one home for hours & hours last night, dark neutral house. i made dumpling soup. i sat on the floor. i ignored everything.
i dreamt about graduation dinner. we were in my grandmother's house. lauren karp shows me her photos, enlarged sepia prints of all of us lined up on risers like in elementary school, or a shot of us down the feast table. some unknown girl is here with us--she knows kendall. a transfer from whinnet house [?]. we have to share a bed. in the night she keeps shifting her hands on my legs, but i convince myself she's asleep the whole time.
at the dinner she holds a hand on my inner thigh but i'm too scared to do anything. her subtle control. i try to leave: she follows and tries to hold me down. i try to catch a wrist, to strike out, to do anything. futile. she controls my limbs, knocks me down holding me there. in the kitchen everyone quietly avoids us as i scream at the girl. she says i'm at fault; she even gave me the chance to kiss her. fuck you, i scream. i scream myself hoarse. i can feel the rasp in my throat. fuck you i scream, turning off a loudly whirring blender so everyone can hear us. fuck you trying to weasel me, trying to convince me i want you. aunt penni is there and is the only one who believes me.
raw eyed i run to the back bedroom, crying. when i hear j's feet walking to the bathroom i'm convinced it's the girl coming down the hall to the back bedroom. but i wake up when i hear the bathroom light, relieved to wake up safe.
my limbs so gravity-sweetened into the blankets and pillows. such reluctance. felt as if the weight of bad dreams had pressed me deeper into the bed. a night mare that rode my skin.
on the radio this morning stern men praised the psychological warfare tactics of the us government. how daily the press leaks out news of imminent attacks, keeps the public in a state of awareness that is only partly true. which means also partly false. this morning on the front page of the ny times there is an article about the rumors of taliban defections. but is it the truth? how very clever. we fight a war of rumors, said the radio voice, and we appear to be winning.
storms brewing. the weather shifts. a handful of good mood, a handful of bad. sick of myself.
i was the only one home for hours & hours last night, dark neutral house. i made dumpling soup. i sat on the floor. i ignored everything.
i dreamt about graduation dinner. we were in my grandmother's house. lauren karp shows me her photos, enlarged sepia prints of all of us lined up on risers like in elementary school, or a shot of us down the feast table. some unknown girl is here with us--she knows kendall. a transfer from whinnet house [?]. we have to share a bed. in the night she keeps shifting her hands on my legs, but i convince myself she's asleep the whole time.
at the dinner she holds a hand on my inner thigh but i'm too scared to do anything. her subtle control. i try to leave: she follows and tries to hold me down. i try to catch a wrist, to strike out, to do anything. futile. she controls my limbs, knocks me down holding me there. in the kitchen everyone quietly avoids us as i scream at the girl. she says i'm at fault; she even gave me the chance to kiss her. fuck you, i scream. i scream myself hoarse. i can feel the rasp in my throat. fuck you i scream, turning off a loudly whirring blender so everyone can hear us. fuck you trying to weasel me, trying to convince me i want you. aunt penni is there and is the only one who believes me.
raw eyed i run to the back bedroom, crying. when i hear j's feet walking to the bathroom i'm convinced it's the girl coming down the hall to the back bedroom. but i wake up when i hear the bathroom light, relieved to wake up safe.
my limbs so gravity-sweetened into the blankets and pillows. such reluctance. felt as if the weight of bad dreams had pressed me deeper into the bed. a night mare that rode my skin.
on the radio this morning stern men praised the psychological warfare tactics of the us government. how daily the press leaks out news of imminent attacks, keeps the public in a state of awareness that is only partly true. which means also partly false. this morning on the front page of the ny times there is an article about the rumors of taliban defections. but is it the truth? how very clever. we fight a war of rumors, said the radio voice, and we appear to be winning.
storms brewing. the weather shifts. a handful of good mood, a handful of bad. sick of myself.
