i am capable of lying on the couch in a quiet and otherwise unoccupied room for upwards of forty-five minutes at a stretch, awake and alert, eyes open and fixed on some immaterial object, a corner of a curtain, a patch of shadow, an expanse of wall. i am not meditating, my mind is not clear.
in these intervals, the cast of characters changes roles, fairy-tale style. the mouse is a footman, the pumpkin a carriage, and the wooden boy makes a cameo as a flesh and blood human, fully grown. the mirror that meets my gaze is honest, however the images it returns to me are suffused with a warm glow that is not one hundred percent accurate. metaphors mix like this in my mind as i shift from the daydream to the inevitable state of wanting to write about it; nothing escapes this wanting, though many things never make it as far as the lighted page.
i am changing, first in my imagination and foremost in these words, and last but not least, in reality, as long as the reality in question is entirely subjective and flexible.
i have a disclaimer for you now: events represented have been altered from the original: they have been interpreted by a madwoman, edited accordingly, & formatted to fit your screen.
“events represented have been altered from the original”
Yes, yes, I could tell that was the case because I’m quite sure you were thinking of a princess whose mother-in-law forces her to clean the fireplace, and not a wooden boy.
i was mixing fairy tales and metaphors. there was a little snow white in there too. and there were others, i edited them out, for the sake of “clarity” ((haha))
and i don’t have a fireplace.
Happy women?s day!
Some of my favorite people are mad. I like them that way.
reality is entirely subjective
. anyone who says differently is shortsighted and not nearly as weird as they should be!