|Photo by Willy Ríos|
Tales: Room at the Top
by Manuel A. López
by Manuel A. López
Oh how I wish! If for one day… I’ll settle for an hour actually… I could unplug and give my thoughts a rest. Just empty my brain, leave it blank, like plain Jell-O.
Every morning I wake up tired, as if I was working on a sugar cane field all night. While the first rays of sunlight peek thru the windows, those windows all the way at the top, I linger in bed, feeling beat.
Day by day, silent films in sepia tones take over me, and without a proper ending, one takes over the other. As if I was a silent movie star, I play all sorts of roles; sometimes I am just a mere passerby, or a fly on the wall.
This morning for example, as I was getting out of bed, a sudden shift as I was going down the stairs, and I could see myself standing in a corner, listening to famed decorator, Billy Baldwin talk to Greta Garbo about achieving that perfect color on her dressing room walls. Although the painters had tried various tones, Ms.Garbo was still not satisfied, and Master Billy, as she called him, was trying to convince her that now it was fine, without much success. A click made by the air conditioner transported me back to reality, or shall I say, my very own reality, whatever that is…while the next film began playing on cue.
This time I was outside, just standing in the middle of the driveway, arms extended over my head, imploring for more rain to fall on me, to cleanse away all the bad. I stood there drenched in the heavy rain, and numbed, not being able to move, as if I was a frozen Popsicle. Tons and tons of white gardenias fell on me, while my neighbor’s cat looked over, mesmerized as if I was Saint Francis of Assisi.
I realize that this could be simple daydreaming, but lately it has become more constant, and at times I feel the need to be left alone. There are days that I could lay in bed, without a care in the world, not a single responsibility. I have talks with myself, and with an infinite number of people, some well known, and others totally unknown to me. Searching for answers, or mere solutions, I have tried reading all kinds of Self-Help Books, Googled my symptoms, tried listening to preachers, and a wide selections of Gods, and Goddesses. My mother calls it a “spiritual thing”. Some kind of dark, evil spirit that is loose on the prowl for humans like me. I try to convince myself, with the lack of quality dates I’ve had lately, this could be appealing.
That’s another subject…dating… I’ve gone from meeting a high profile attorney, who in our first encounter promised to marry me and take me to breakfast every single morning of our lives… at Tiffany’s of course; to a dentist with a compulsive need to lie. I’ve been engrossed, deep in books, reading and writing my life away, so that these unfortunate incidents fly by as quickly as possible. In between, I’ve been asked to have sex in all kinds of ways, with groups, married couples, and one who wanted his hyena to watch. With a smile, I have excused myself saying I have an attention deficit disorder, and currently out of order.
Somehow, and without taking any drugs, I am staying focused. I am a firm believer that we came to this harsh world to be coupled, but while that happens, and these movies keep playing in my mind, I console myself with a little music, an occasional glass of white wine, a poem, and discovering all that surrounds me.
But I am confident that my state can be treated, and with time maybe those movies can be shortened to just clips here and there, and who knows, maybe one day I will embrace reality with the same strength as I am trying to embrace solitude.
In the meantime, I am floating, breathing, and daydreaming, here....in my room at the top.