The Interlude
You sewed an extra button onto your coat, a round soft grey one which didn't match the others.
You were always sewing and I imagine you could have imagined a button falling off when it didn't.
Maybe a button had fallen off another coat and you forgot which one. We laughed at first, it was funny. Nothing to worry about. Then it got odder. One day you tried to boil milk in the kettle, another day you picked up the remote control like the telephone. You went into the Garda station to buy your bread. I can't imagine how it must have felt. Was there any warning? Did you know what was happening? Or did it just come out of nowhere like a presenter arriving on TV to present your favourite show and instead of the expected this is what he says;
"Tonight ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present the spectacular show of uncertainty, now everyone close their eyes, yes, yes, close them and keep them that way. What's going to happen you say? Well I can't tell you! As uncertainty, uncertainty, it can be pretty unpredictable!"
Of course I never thought it might happen to me too. I was so young when it happened to you. I almost forgot, forgot, about you forgetting. Now I write to remember and soon these words, yes these words will only be words, nothing attached. I'll read them like I read a book written by a stranger. One day someone might find these words and they'll give them to me and I'l be introduced to myself again.
I know it's there because I can feel it, not that I can express it. I can try. It has weight. It rests. Unless disturbed. I try not to disturb it. I've given up. I leave it alone. What is it? It's a memory but it's not. It's a memory untouched, it's a memory I can't remember ever remembering so maybe it can't be a memory. It happened though, I know it happened because it's there, it's inside me, it's stuck. It's the space after occurrence and before recall, it's the interlude.
Ever get scared?
There are monsters under the bed. No, no, no, don't say there's not because you don't know. What if the most important things are the things that can't be known, what if that's what makes them important?
Doesn't that scare you?
You sewed an extra button onto your coat, a round soft grey one which didn't match the others.
You were always sewing and I imagine you could have imagined a button falling off when it didn't.
Maybe a button had fallen off another coat and you forgot which one. We laughed at first, it was funny. Nothing to worry about. Then it got odder. One day you tried to boil milk in the kettle, another day you picked up the remote control like the telephone. You went into the Garda station to buy your bread. I can't imagine how it must have felt. Was there any warning? Did you know what was happening? Or did it just come out of nowhere like a presenter arriving on TV to present your favourite show and instead of the expected this is what he says;
"Tonight ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present the spectacular show of uncertainty, now everyone close their eyes, yes, yes, close them and keep them that way. What's going to happen you say? Well I can't tell you! As uncertainty, uncertainty, it can be pretty unpredictable!"
Of course I never thought it might happen to me too. I was so young when it happened to you. I almost forgot, forgot, about you forgetting. Now I write to remember and soon these words, yes these words will only be words, nothing attached. I'll read them like I read a book written by a stranger. One day someone might find these words and they'll give them to me and I'l be introduced to myself again.
I know it's there because I can feel it, not that I can express it. I can try. It has weight. It rests. Unless disturbed. I try not to disturb it. I've given up. I leave it alone. What is it? It's a memory but it's not. It's a memory untouched, it's a memory I can't remember ever remembering so maybe it can't be a memory. It happened though, I know it happened because it's there, it's inside me, it's stuck. It's the space after occurrence and before recall, it's the interlude.
Ever get scared?
There are monsters under the bed. No, no, no, don't say there's not because you don't know. What if the most important things are the things that can't be known, what if that's what makes them important?
Doesn't that scare you?
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