November 24, 2012 § Leave a comment
when i sit down at the puzzle table, i sit with the legos. i play with the figurine meant to represent Guy, and i force in his cupped claw a lego turkey leg. here we are, me and avatar Guy with his lego turkey leg. did i ever tell you that when i was a kid, my family never told me that the large roasted bird we ate on thanksgiving was a capon, not a turkey? but we called it a turkey anyway. i explained this to Guy, which is not his real name.* “i like things to be named what they are named.” the irony is well-preserved.
meanwhile, Guy plays with his house of cards. they are specific cards with strong images and many slits. he is building it as high as he can.
my point is this. there’s no message in anything except that which we choose to interpret. i can take the roof off the house, but it’s just a little lego house. in the end, i will still want a mantle piece with pine branches on it, because that’s that.
i was sitting at the puzzle table with the lego Guy, making sure that everything was right. do i have the set-up? should i be working harder? should i be angling for full-time work? i get constant urges to make lists. what is going on here? i like things to be named what they are named.
sometimes when the cards are too high, they wobble. the wind is going outside tonight, without my given consent. the wind seems to come through those fancy windows and wobble the house of cards. meanwhile the lego house stands firm.
you dance around the lawn looking for the front door, when there it is. everything i want rests on writing. i have to keep writing.
everything i do is domiciles, houses and apartments and moving. the heat’s off here, the rent’s high there, the windows are too fancy here. the blocks are too bright, the walls are too wobbly.
*i asked him what name i should use for him here. likely most people who read this already know him. “just call me Guy,” he said, without looking up from his work in the cards.