Sticks and Bones

The first part of a chronicle of a crush-turned-obsession. I'm sorry, Julie.


To experience this in natural reading order go to A Bright, Ironic Hell: The Straight Read .


Also, try Satellite Dance and Crystal Delusions--Parts 2 and 3, respectively--complete.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Where's My Irony Now? (3/08/09 Sunday)

Julie's mother had a severe stroke the previous weekend. I hadn't known when I asked her Wednesday if she'd been snowed in. She answered, "No, but I wish that was why I was out." I was puzzled, but slow to respond, and she was gone with a cart before I'd gathered my wits. Julie appeared very tired the next day. Angie told me about the stroke. The last hour Thursday I spent on the desk with Julie. I asked quietly after her mom. She was not reluctant to talk, though she must have by then answered the same questions several times. She looked at me as she did; her eyes were red-rimmed and moist; her voice didn't waver, but she sniffed lightly a few times. That hour humbled me, threw into relief my arrogance and petty meanness in judging her character. Julie had always been an object, not a person. Finally I felt the compassion for her for which I'd sought. It began the re-evaluation of this whole project and the consideration that it was over.

The blog I created to replace Book Monkey Says as the representative of the Web 2.0 exercise made the blog roll this week and was removed this week. I had not been forewarned or brought onto the carpet to have explained to me why this would be done. It was just taken off the roll. It was called Done and contained two posts and a total text of three words. The first post, "Week 2," said, "Done." The second, "Week 3,"about RSS feeds, read, "Read. Fed." When I discovered the blog removed I added "Up." Book Monkey is the author of Done, though not in persona. A click on his profile reveals his other blog. In the few days Done was on the roll Book Monkey received eighty-three views (now, two days later, ninety-five), no doubt nearly entirely from library personnel, as I have not claimed it online. Of course, I don't know how many or who clicked through to Book Monkey Says, but someone did, and many more than just the moralistic brown-noser who flagged it. How indignant can I be? Henrico County is not the forum for my agenda, and since talking to Julie about her mother I have not been exactly zealous to forward it or to have Julie read Book Monkey Says. She does not appear to have, but I can't be sure, and at this point would be embarrassed, if not ashamed, to find that she had.

A Bright, Ironic Hell is winding down. Perhaps my feelings for Julie aren't as moribund as I've recently stated, but they have changed beyond the scope of the blog. I don't know what, if anything, has been resolved. I loathe loose ends, but this is not a novel but a living..."living" what? (Something else to resolve?) There will be loose ends because only time will allow me space enough to see the seasons for the year, the transitions and growth. I have reread the blog to the point of meeting Jan (that being the "manuscript"). I tried to read it as an outsider, and I achieved that about as well as could be expected, so I got a broad view of intense doubt despite a sometimes razor-sharp clarity: A firm, intuitive grasp was often reasoned away from all believability, often becasue I simply didn't want to believe it. How many times I said she couldn't be interested in me is virtually uncountable, but I wanted to believe I was wrong, that Julie was somehow "playing" me, "compartmentalizing," instead of being indifferent to me. I couldn't accept the indifference. I pressed for a reaction, hoping/expecting it to be positive. Getting exactly the opposite reaction pressed me into a prideful corner, out of which I tried to fight with indignation. Now, here I am, with nothing I wanted, but perhaps everything I deserve. What that is, I might determine with another reading.

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