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roachboy · 03-23-2007, 02:28 PM

my ex-wife and i were still awake and still drinking and it was 5:30 am. we were still awake and still drinking at 5:30 am at some terribly white cafe near chatelet in paris. somewhere along the way we had acquired a couple of drinking compatriots. they were two, i dont really remember much else. i think we had lurched from place to place in their company for some hours.

there is drinking until 5:30 am and then there is realizing that you have been drinking until 5:30 am. these are quite different ways of interacting with the same moment: the passage from not having a prelude to the coming hangover to having a prelude of the coming hangover can be quick, and the threshold that distinguishes them passed before you realize that something is changing. one marker of having-passed is the dissolving of any sense of momentum behind the drinking trajectory, replaced by another momentum and another trajectory, the one that directs you home.

pleasantries. need to go home, yes yes all are agreed and so we leave and go into the metro.

chatelet is a busy stop, one of the central intersections of the whole metro system. we four directed ourselves toward the train. it was crowded, which was strange given the hour, i thought. we four directed toward the train which was at the platform. the horn had sounded: it was about to pull away. i was a little in front of the 3 of them and got on the train first. i looked back and saw the two men leading m away. i saw m going with them. the doors had closed. i was looking back onto the platform. the train was pulling away.

i got off the train at the next stop. i do not know why, but it seemed reasonable. i stood there until the next train came and waited but they were not on board. i took the next train in the opposite direction and went back to chatelet. they were gone.

m had recurrent phases of agrophobia. they came, they went; sometimes with an obvious cause, sometimes not. she had come to france with me but would not learn french. when i was out doing stuff, she stayed at home. when i came back, we would go out exploring. i was the safe person. i was the translator. i was the buffer between her and the world.

now she was gone.
she did not speak french.
neither of our two drinking compatriots really spoke english. it was strange that they were able to redirect her so easily. everything was strange.

this is when the panic began. i remember that while i was standing on the platform at chatelet all choices seemed equally weightless. the station is an extensive network of tunnels and train platforms. there are multiple ways in and out and multiple directions that one could go once on the surface. i remember thinking that any move i made would be arbitrary.

so i went home. the thinking was that we had no way of communicating (no cellphones) and that going home at least would give m some way of contacting me.

we were living in neuilly-sur-seine. once back, i remember walking around and around the outside pattern of the fake persian carpet in the livingroom of the cube we had rented. i remember counting my steps. i remember calling a couple friends i do not know why. i wanted to talk. i could not formulate my thoughts otherwise. i could only count my steps as i walked around and around the outer edge of the carpet.

about 2 hours later she called.
she was in the east of the city, at someone's apartment. there were kids' voices in the background. there was a family, apparently friends of the remaining drinking compatriot. he had been expected. there had been rum offered and rum refused. it was unclear what was happening. i thought that he must have been taken by surprise by the fact that m moved away from the train when they did, had had no plan, and had not yet decided what it was that he was doing. so he went to breakfast as scheduled, and brought m with him.
i tried to get her to find out where she was.
for some reason, the limited english of the compatriot had now collapsed entirely.
none of the others spoke english it seemed.
so she was able to give only a vague idea. somewhere in the 11th.
then the line went dead.

time passed very slowly.

she called again a couple hours later. he had been taking her from place to place, walking his indecisiveness. one place was a church in the 19th, which meant that they had moved north. she described an odd encounter between the compatriot and a priest. they seemed to know each other. the priest was not happy to see him.
but they were no longer in the 19th: they had moved again.
she said that she was ok but wanted to come home.
the guy kept telling her that that he would take her to the metro. but something always came up: another destination, another errand.
it was not clear what was going on.
i kept trying to get her to tell me where she was so that i could come out to get her. but she never knew where she was.
it is a blur, she said.

later she told me what happened next. he lead her to a building and somehow persuaded her to go into the basement. she had expected to go to another apartment, maybe to meet another family of friends. but instead, she was in an empty room with no floor. debris scattered around. she said that she saw a beat up wooden chair across the room from her.

he grabbed her. he tore her sweater in the ensuing struggle.

he let go and went across the room to get the chair.
she saw a piece of metal on the floor and picked it up.
he came back toward her carrying the chair and a length of rope.
she didnt know where it came from.
he made a move toward her again.
she slashed him across the face with the piece of metal and ran.

convinced that he was pursuing her, she ran as fast as she could down a series of streets she did not know.
eventually she found a metro stop.

m had recurrent phases of agrophobia.
they came, they went.
sometimes with an obvious cause, sometimes not.

03-23-2007, 02:28 PM	#8 (permalink)
roachboy Super Moderator Location: essex ma	my ex-wife and i were still awake and still drinking and it was 5:30 am. we were still awake and still drinking at 5:30 am at some terribly white cafe near chatelet in paris. somewhere along the way we had acquired a couple of drinking compatriots. they were two, i dont really remember much else. i think we had lurched from place to place in their company for some hours. there is drinking until 5:30 am and then there is realizing that you have been drinking until 5:30 am. these are quite different ways of interacting with the same moment: the passage from not having a prelude to the coming hangover to having a prelude of the coming hangover can be quick, and the threshold that distinguishes them passed before you realize that something is changing. one marker of having-passed is the dissolving of any sense of momentum behind the drinking trajectory, replaced by another momentum and another trajectory, the one that directs you home. pleasantries. need to go home, yes yes all are agreed and so we leave and go into the metro. chatelet is a busy stop, one of the central intersections of the whole metro system. we four directed ourselves toward the train. it was crowded, which was strange given the hour, i thought. we four directed toward the train which was at the platform. the horn had sounded: it was about to pull away. i was a little in front of the 3 of them and got on the train first. i looked back and saw the two men leading m away. i saw m going with them. the doors had closed. i was looking back onto the platform. the train was pulling away. i got off the train at the next stop. i do not know why, but it seemed reasonable. i stood there until the next train came and waited but they were not on board. i took the next train in the opposite direction and went back to chatelet. they were gone. m had recurrent phases of agrophobia. they came, they went; sometimes with an obvious cause, sometimes not. she had come to france with me but would not learn french. when i was out doing stuff, she stayed at home. when i came back, we would go out exploring. i was the safe person. i was the translator. i was the buffer between her and the world. now she was gone. she did not speak french. neither of our two drinking compatriots really spoke english. it was strange that they were able to redirect her so easily. everything was strange. this is when the panic began. i remember that while i was standing on the platform at chatelet all choices seemed equally weightless. the station is an extensive network of tunnels and train platforms. there are multiple ways in and out and multiple directions that one could go once on the surface. i remember thinking that any move i made would be arbitrary. so i went home. the thinking was that we had no way of communicating (no cellphones) and that going home at least would give m some way of contacting me. we were living in neuilly-sur-seine. once back, i remember walking around and around the outside pattern of the fake persian carpet in the livingroom of the cube we had rented. i remember counting my steps. i remember calling a couple friends i do not know why. i wanted to talk. i could not formulate my thoughts otherwise. i could only count my steps as i walked around and around the outer edge of the carpet. about 2 hours later she called. she was in the east of the city, at someone's apartment. there were kids' voices in the background. there was a family, apparently friends of the remaining drinking compatriot. he had been expected. there had been rum offered and rum refused. it was unclear what was happening. i thought that he must have been taken by surprise by the fact that m moved away from the train when they did, had had no plan, and had not yet decided what it was that he was doing. so he went to breakfast as scheduled, and brought m with him. i tried to get her to find out where she was. for some reason, the limited english of the compatriot had now collapsed entirely. none of the others spoke english it seemed. so she was able to give only a vague idea. somewhere in the 11th. then the line went dead. time passed very slowly. she called again a couple hours later. he had been taking her from place to place, walking his indecisiveness. one place was a church in the 19th, which meant that they had moved north. she described an odd encounter between the compatriot and a priest. they seemed to know each other. the priest was not happy to see him. but they were no longer in the 19th: they had moved again. she said that she was ok but wanted to come home. the guy kept telling her that that he would take her to the metro. but something always came up: another destination, another errand. it was not clear what was going on. i kept trying to get her to tell me where she was so that i could come out to get her. but she never knew where she was. it is a blur, she said. later she told me what happened next. he lead her to a building and somehow persuaded her to go into the basement. she had expected to go to another apartment, maybe to meet another family of friends. but instead, she was in an empty room with no floor. debris scattered around. she said that she saw a beat up wooden chair across the room from her. he grabbed her. he tore her sweater in the ensuing struggle. he let go and went across the room to get the chair. she saw a piece of metal on the floor and picked it up. he came back toward her carrying the chair and a length of rope. she didnt know where it came from. he made a move toward her again. she slashed him across the face with the piece of metal and ran. convinced that he was pursuing her, she ran as fast as she could down a series of streets she did not know. eventually she found a metro stop. m had recurrent phases of agrophobia. they came, they went. sometimes with an obvious cause, sometimes not. __________________ a gramophone its corrugated trumpet silver handle spinning dog. such faithfulness it hear it make you sick. -kamau brathwaite Last edited by roachboy; 03-23-2007 at 05:51 PM..