The Unswung Bat

Monday, January 16, 2006
 
Uninvited

Something woke in my stomach this morning, or next to it. Tentacled and gray - I knew it was gray, somehow - stretching taut, puckered limbs to embrace the organ in a curling, radiant cephalopoid yawn. Sure as a creeper it suckered on to my stomach and I knew the thing was there for keeps. It fluttered a little, pleased with itself, I imagined.

This can't be right, I thought, and the thing turned my statement into a question. I imagined a head, a single eye of some sort inspecting my interior, pinning adenda to my thoughts while it toyed with my viscera. The thing didn't actually scare me, though I must admit I would have liked it to leave. I didn't feel that trying to force it out would be a good course to take. There was a quaking in me, and I realized I was mostrously hungry, my throat was dry, I was a little nauseated and itching to jump out of bed. I made eggs for breakfast, no toast, and then more eggs afterwards when I was still hungry.

While I was eating, my guest lay silent, but I did have an instantaneous sensation of disembodiment, a notion that my head detached itself from the rest of me in order to fall upon the eggs, drawing them in strangely towards its mouth. When I was finished I felt the thing, too, had gathered something from the meal.

At the moment, none of my books interested me in the slightest and the prospect watching tv struck me as unbearably boring, so even though I had nearly two hours before work, I left the house and drifted off in that general direction.


- - -

Not too much is up at this precise moment. I finished off another story, and then after hearing I actually had two more weeks before I'm due to submit a story, I decided I hated that one and was writing another.

A certain Elizabeth left a Christmas message in my guestbook saying "Let's talk." This confuses me still, in its brief obliquity and in the fact that I can't recall knowing anyone who's ever gone by Elizabeth. I suppose it could be the queen, feeling now that I am Canadian we should have a chat about things, but if this is the case then "Let's talk" comes off less as a request and more as an imperious demand. My heart rebels, crying freedom and allegiance to no crown, although if Mrs. Windsor cares to leave the regalia at home I can be persuaded to sit down for interviews at any establishment where eggs are served sunny-side up alongside breakfast sausages and buttered toast.

This reminds me that I've not eaten since waking four hours ago. Not bad, really, as I've spent the time writing and that's how I eventually plan on making the money that I will put towards the purchase of food to be eaten by me. On the whole, though, writing and eating are fairly different activities and I shouldn't get into the habit of confusing them.

Sorry Leora that I have not commented on your blog yet, but I am extremely sketchy at correspondance and can never think of anything to say except for hi. Maybe I will just say hi. I realize you probably still can't go online and read this but once you get out of there it'll be up, along with my comments.



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