a testament to the swamp which lies beneath us

i was waiting for this evening and sure enough it came, since it is colder now and i had been wanting since august to be nipped by the wind outside and wait for my ears to thaw when i walk indoors. i always loved the writing of woolf or eliot because it is so REAL: there is mrs. dalloway with her flowers and lil ought to have her teeth capped and the present and the past and the future all meld into this one fantastic ball because all you are really listening to is the thoughts in someone's head and we are not linear. so tonight i wished i had a pen to write but everything was coming so fast anyway, and i wanted to keep walking, and i couldn't write while walking, now could i? this is what was really in my mind:

isn't it funny that we have built ourselves this beautiful city and filled it up with bridges and monuments and politicians and streets and the occasional statue but it still cannot hide that really all it was, is, is a swamp? if you walk at night the rats will crawl in front of you and if you truly live here you cannot be disgusted by them. they are more this place than any of us are.

there is a girl, a woman, standing in the park on p street across the bridge from the circle and what makes a person stand in the park in the cold in stockings and heels at 9 in the evening (but really 10 now, it is so dark, and the clock will just lie to us for six months)? why is it that we do not look each other in the eyes anymore? i can smile at the woman who walks toward me on the street but as she approaches her eyes cast downward and i do not know where to place my gaze. why do we not greet each other on the streets anymore? or is it just cold and winter again? this is the same street as always but in this light the branches of the trees swoop downward and the leaves make icicles -- there is no wind and the leaves are crystalline, almost (is my sock slipping in my boot again?). i wish it would snow, but not enough to stick.

oh how i wish, i wish i had the mind of eliot which could bounce between the tarot and the bars and the thames and these are the pearls that were his eyes. but my stream of consciousness is not so impressive as his (my consciousness is not so impressive as his) and i do not jump to the story of sibyll or the drooping beauty of hyacinths though for a minute i admit i find myself not here in this city but in paris or brasil. the scarf keeps my neck warm on the outside but inside the air still bites my throat and isn't that how it always is?

here is the house where we stood together and i told you, it is my favourite thing that they grow roses, that the roses climb above the front door and make an arch of flowers. it is cold now and all that are left are the rose hips and a few stray petals. there is the street that is a quiet place and you would not know about it, could walk past it all the time and not even notice it, but if you stood there for a moment and looked you would see copper roofs and light red brick and streets named after caribbean islands where i wish i was right now (and so do you, probably). i love copper roofs because they are so much more beautiful as they age. someone put them there for their metallic sheen but didn't they know it would oxidize, that over the years it would turn that almost sea foam green which i think is so much more gorgeous than the original form (oh, istanbul!)?

all the lights are in my favour tonight although i did have to run to catch that one coming up to the bridge and now i am walking through georgetown to my home and there is a black cat on the doorstep of the house by the church. i want a kitten but i am too inconstant for one right now. where would it live in the summertime? there is my corner and i want to walk around the city all night with my thoughts but there is nowhere to put them anyhow and it would be better if there was someone else to walk with. but i would not tell you all of this if we were walking.

it would be a fun game to play, sometime, though. to sit and say exactly whatever comes into your head just straight for two whole minutes. i bet it would be irrational and WONDERFUL.