new feelings

I am domesticating. This occurred to me just after a glass – newly washed ,wet with water — slipped and crashed at my feet. This was just after I had decided I must stop drinking out of juice cartons . It was uncool, uncouth and unsafe. Only recently had father emailed about someone dying after having drunk straight out of the carton — many a rat or a lizard has at some point at some Inland Container Depot made a carton its home was the general drift. 

So when the wet slippery glass left my fingers and took less than one tenth of a second to shatter into tiny shards, my first thought was: well, thats new. I have never dropped a glass before. Unlike previous instances of spilling milk, dropping heavier items like telephones, Internet modems, mobile phones and televisions, this time there was no one chastising or calling the pot, a black or kettle or anything – just an odd sort of a ringing silence – the glass many very well have rung the temple bell. 

Yes I love it, getting used to it, even if I am sometimes afraid I could get habituated to this — this silence, the golden hue of it and the ringing peals of it. I feel like a fearless woodpecker building my nest, cluttering it up with pillow cases, breaking glass, making beds, clearing up, paying the help and newspapers, killing cockroaches and even getting my own food, sometimes maybe cooking it. 

Who do you live with, wherever you live, people ask and I shrug and say, oh I don’t think i can do the whole PG thing any more ( but I’m doing the roosting thing, I think) or when young curly office colleague expresses wonder and awe at the death a cockroach, fat, flying and the first at my hands — just a week after pastagirl and I shrieked the house down ( it was my other friend who got blood on her hands for killing that cockroach) it dawns on me, this is domesticating – if that’s even a word. These are the moments when I can actually see time moving – not just a second hand and another after that but time moving like how a particle of matter moves in space. These are the moments when I feel life slipping or changing and thats when I hear someone singing– SO How Does It Feeeeaaal? To be on your own, no direction no, like a complete unknown. But the rolling stone, me, is domesticating, for lack of a better word.