Listening to the classic Ellington/Coltrane track ‘In a Sentimental Mood,’ I’m gearing up for a particularly productive day. I woke up this morning incensed by the mess in my house. I’ve found that cleaning is just the thing to take my mind off Alex’s absence (flown to Korea without me). It’s meditative in a way and it frees up my headspace for those kinds of transcendental journeys that one only achieves while elbow deep in a sink full of dishes.
Thoughts of space and intergalactic travel drift through my consciousness. I’m reminded of two artists whose work I viewed earlier in the week. Their strange, other-worldly images have commandeered my imagination and we are communicating now on a subatomic level.
“Hot yoga?” I mumble to the man who, even now, is becoming one with a block of water. “I am Sisyphus,” he replies. His is a terrific suspension, it makes me uncomfortable to think of it.
Drifting on, through the cosmos I am Zeitguised. It’s all neons in plaids and navajo and I want so badly for it to be real. How satisfying it would be to run my fingers over those microscopic grooves; or, perhaps if writ large as a landscape, to lose myself amongst the ridges. It looks tangible enough but alas, I am merely lost in the figment of another artist’s imagination.
My fingers find the familiar grooves of the handle of a spoon but my mind is still orbiting somewhere in a galaxy far, far away.