Sanctuary: A Vehement Discourse

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Mezzanine Floor

Last night I drank coffee. I drank this coffee pretty late. I drank this coffee pretty late because I an stupid. Tonight its sugar. Tonight I have sugar and red food colouring pumping through my system. I am talk/typing in short sentences because my mind is thinking in short sentences. I don't want to say that I am going crazy, but I may soon have to admit it.
Ok, I'm going crazy. There, the moment you've all been waiting for. I admitted it, and yes, yes it does feel good to finally be out if denial. I feel like I am in some sort of metamorphical stage. Not saying that I will morph into an animal or some super, freaky, alien, berserk creature or anything. Just saying I feel like I am inbetween what once was, and what is to come. Mezzanine floor, as I titled this post, is basically along the lines of how I feel. This is the first few rows of a theatre. The part where no one wants to sit for fear of a strained neck, blown ear drums, and some icky guy standing on the tier above with gross gel in his hair in the rain (if it is an out door theatre), having that icky gel drip down on you. You can tell I am speaking from literal experience. The mezzanine floor is where it is the loudest. Picture yourself at a U2 concert, or the Transiberian Orchestra concert. The sounds coming forth are beautiful, but the intensity causes such a verberation in your body that you feel sick, want to throw up, put your head in your hands, want to scream, weep, etc. You are in the middle. All the action is flying at you, and behind you is observation. You have to stay there because you paid for the damn ticket, you're stuck. The guy beside you smells like Old Spice and cigars, and your husband is sitting beside you. You wonder if everyone on this stage feels the same way. You then realize your husband was right, you should have went to see the ballet. You should have signed up for something less...intense, less dramatic. Intermission comes, but that just causes a flood of more chaos, and the voices, the rumble of voices, you can't make out a single word that is said, but you can hear.
This is where I am. Inbetween good and evil, yes and no, country and city, death and life.

...I need to finish my A&W Root Beer.
posted by ria at 11:06 PM