Nov 10, 2012 - Uncategorized    Comments Off on Journal 3

Journal 3

The first thing I want in the morning is to go back to my Wonderland, past the 33 sheep jumping over the fence, and the cow jumping over the moon. Into my temporal lobe I march, wearing shoes on my head and hair on my feet, half awake and a quarter asleep. I can’t find Alice but I meet the Cheshire cat, who gives me riddles instead of a way to go: can you stand on your head? I find his tilted smile disconcerting and continue on through the purple underbrush, the circles on the grass leading me onward-they light up in front and fade out behind. I’ve never had to walk so far. I look down and my feet are leaving red stamps on the ground, a trail of breadcrumbs for vampires. But there’s no such thing as vampires so I march on, certain that the Mad Hatter will point me in the right direction. At least I know I can count on him to be unaccountable since nothing is what it is because everything is what it isn’t. But I keep walking and I walk past the roses 3 times before I realize I’m walking in ovals. But nothing can be done to make up for lost time so I tap the pink rose gently to wake her. She opens her petals and I sneeze sparkles, my pollen allergies acting up again. She sleepily waves me on towards the Hatter before slowly drifting back into a hazy slumber. Off I go, back into the purple underbrush, skipping through the grass that has turned a quirky shade of blue as I hum a quiet marching tune. Soon I reach a crossroad, or 13 crossed roads to be more precise. If it doesn’t matter where you want to go then it doesn’t matter what road you take but I want to reach the mad Hatter.  I close my eyes and spin, choosing the path that my outstretched finger lands on and walk down the bumpy brick path. Tripping on a tree root I fall and scrape my skin, crying out and clutching at the pink flower now blooming on my knee. Suddenly I remember that today is my unbirthday and I must be getting home to celebrate with tea and cakes. But now that I’ve made my way here I can’t for the life of me remember the way back. So on I go. STOP. I see a table with some tea and cake, how splendid! EAT ME. And I do. But all of a sudden I am not my own height, but someone else’s entirely! Rule forty two: All persons more than a mile high must leave the court immediately. I step right and I’m 3 miles from where I once was, 33 from where I need to be but no closer to where I could be. How odd. I look over the redwood trees, for I am much taller than them and see a set of stairs under the horizon. I climb them and my hat falls out of the sky, landing with a solid plunk! on my head. It makes me sad, for I used to be much more…”muchier.” I seem too have lost my muchness. But perhaps these stairs will lead me where I need to go. Or perhaps not, as I cannot quite remember what I wanted to begin with…

Comments are closed.