Have you ever fallen in love with someone just by reading their signature? I thought it was some empty scrawl. Still can't read her last name but who cares? Such a beautiful name. Liana. It's one of those names that makes me want to use tacky phrases, like 'like poetry'. Liana. Who are you, girl with the beautiful name?
If you haven't guessed I had someone read the name to me. He asked me why it was so important. I made up some story about hoping to be able to return it to the owner. I could tell he didn't believe me, but he apparently didn't care enough to investigate the lie. For a while I merely stared at the page, running my fingers along the notebook's edge. It felt alive, somehow.
I sat, basking in the moment for a while. My pulse quickened, my head felt light. It felt like a high school crush, and this was a book. I've seen her, what, once? I barely remember her face, now. I think she had brown hair. Maybe blonde? One of those lightish colours. Did she smile? Was I imagining that?
I finally opened the first page. The first real page, I mean. The ones where she's writing down all of her beautiful words. (Did I just say that? I've read maybe two dozen words she's ever written. Beautiful? I'm using the word beautiful. Something is up.) "I had a dream tonight.
"It's why I bought this notebook. It's why I know I'm going to throw it away, probably burn it or something. I'm not saying what it is. I don't trust you yet."
You don't trust me? I shut the book. She doesn't trust me? Why? Have I done something wrong?
20061206
meditations on a leather-bound journal, pt. iv
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1 comment:
I bet you still haven't googled the frog and the scorpion, have you. And this story that you're writing, it's the perfect bloody example of you being the frog. And you don't even know it! Because you can't muster the energy!
Right.
The scorpion is on a long journey across the country. He's been travelling for days, he's tired, but he soldiers on, because he has someone to find and because scorpions can't just kick back and hang out...there's an incredible social prejudice against them.
The scorpion gets to a wide, gushing river. He has no way of getting across. He's about to turn around and head home, dejected, when a frog leaps up next to him. "I'll carry you across" offers the frog.
"Er....why on earth would you do that?" asks the scorpion. "One sting and you're dead meat. Why would you trust me?"
"Because if you sting me in that water, you're going down with me" says the frog. If I go, you go too. It's be suicide"
"Good point" concedes the scorpion. "Okay, let's go". So he jumps on the frogs back and they travel together across the river.
They reach halfway and the frog feels a terrible pain in his back. He goes numb, and paralysed, and starts to sink.
"Why did you do that?" he asked. "Why did you choose to kill us both?"
The scorpion replied "It's in my nature"
This really did tie in to you and that journal. Somehow. No matter. Keep writing.
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