Wednesday
21May
Flashback – Wednesday, April 9, 2008: 2am
Wednesday, May 21, 2008 at 07:26AM in memories Once more, I am a stranger on this island. Although I walk through the same streets, see the same stores, do the same things, without you, without you, oh Kitty, everything has become foreign, distant, cold.
I walked by the Pierre this morning, I couldn't help it, I had to see, so I went into the Rotunda where we spent so many nights having drinks, that one night... how my memory betrays me! Nothing is clear, but everything hurts me, I couldn't help it, I had to see again, that night when there were only two other couples, and the waiter was telling us stories about some of the residents - was it Joan Rivers or someone else? - how my memory betrays me, all I remember clearly is what you said, we were sitting close together, you were across from me, your image, your green eyes, I am afraid of remembering, I was leaning toward you to listen, I wanted to hold my hand against your cheek, and you said something I will never forget:
"I'm so happy."
And then the Park. My God. Is there nothing in this city that will not hurt me? The paired butterflies, the grass in the fields, the pond with the turtles. They all hurt me.
I can't eat dinner at the Yale Club without pain. I cannot go to the galleries downtown without pain, without remembering that night, I think it was Friday, we were in a freight elevator going to see a show, and that French gentleman with the quietly elegant jacket, no tie, he exuded self-possession and cool and power, how he looked at you, then me, and smiled. With you at my side, Kitty, I was a god.
But how the gods punish hubris! Aphrodite, you vengeful b*tch, how much longer must I suffer for you? For my so-called art? Can you never forgive me?
I walked by the Pierre this morning, I couldn't help it, I had to see, so I went into the Rotunda where we spent so many nights having drinks, that one night... how my memory betrays me! Nothing is clear, but everything hurts me, I couldn't help it, I had to see again, that night when there were only two other couples, and the waiter was telling us stories about some of the residents - was it Joan Rivers or someone else? - how my memory betrays me, all I remember clearly is what you said, we were sitting close together, you were across from me, your image, your green eyes, I am afraid of remembering, I was leaning toward you to listen, I wanted to hold my hand against your cheek, and you said something I will never forget:
"I'm so happy."
And then the Park. My God. Is there nothing in this city that will not hurt me? The paired butterflies, the grass in the fields, the pond with the turtles. They all hurt me.
I can't eat dinner at the Yale Club without pain. I cannot go to the galleries downtown without pain, without remembering that night, I think it was Friday, we were in a freight elevator going to see a show, and that French gentleman with the quietly elegant jacket, no tie, he exuded self-possession and cool and power, how he looked at you, then me, and smiled. With you at my side, Kitty, I was a god.
But how the gods punish hubris! Aphrodite, you vengeful b*tch, how much longer must I suffer for you? For my so-called art? Can you never forgive me?