ieghh73qpz's Journal

@@@@@The question was, why? I was most of the
@@@@@The question was, why?
I was most of the way back to Big Pink before I
realized my leg was aching like a bastardI
limped inside, slurped water directly from the
kitchen tap, then made my way across the living
room to the main bedroomI saw the light on the
answering machine was blinking, but I wanted
nothing to do with messages from the outside world
right thenAll I wanted was to get off my feet
I lay down and looked at the slowly revolving
blades of the overhead fanI hadn't done very
well explaining my lack of a fake armI wondered
if Wireman would've had better luck with What's a
lawyer doing as a rich old spinster's houseman?
What kind of other life is that?
Still considering this, I drifted off into a
dreamless and very satisfying nap
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When I woke up, I took a hot shower, then went
into the living room to check my answering machine
I wasn't as stiff as I had expected, given my twomile
walkI might get up tomorrow hobbling, but
for tonight I thought I was going to be all right
The message was from JackHe said his mother had
connected him with someone named Dario Nannuzzi,
and Nannuzzi would be happy to look at my pictures
between four and five PM on Friday afternoon -
could I bring no more than ten of those I
considered best to the Scoto Gallery? No sketches;
Nannuzzi only wanted to see finished work
I felt a tickle of unease at this -
No, that's not even close to what I felt
My stomach cramped and I could have sworn my
bowels dropped three inchesNor was that the
worstThat half-itch, half-pain swarmed up my
right side and down the arm that was no longer
thereI told myself such feelings - which
amounted to three-days-in-advance flop-sweat -
were stupidI had once made a ten-million-dollar
pitch to the StPaul City Council, which at that
time had included a man who'd gone on to become
the Governor of MinnesotaI'd seen two girls
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through first dance recitals, cheerleading tryouts,
driving lessons, and the hell of adolescenceWhat
was showing some of my paintings to an art gallery
guy compared to that?
Nevertheless, I made my way up the stairs to
Little Pink with leaden heels
The sun was going down, flooding the big room with
gorgeous and improbable tangerine light, but I
felt no urge to try and capture it - not this
eveningThe light called to me, just the sameAs
the photograph of some long-gone love, happened on
by accident while going through an old box of
souvenirs, may call to you
Even upstairs I could hear the grinding voice of
the she