RSS Feed


Posted on

I’m a very messy person. my apartment kinda looks like a recycling depot that’s been blown up. paper everywhere. but my neighbour, who lives downstairs? makes me look Spartan. uh-huh. There are baby strollers, candelabras, a push lawn-mower, mirrors of many shapes and sizes, suitcases, bicycles, clothes horses, fabric, a barbeque, a dog house (?), cushions, a door, paper…

tonight she, (or someone who actually sounds more like my neighbour across the street) hollered at the man who lives there for hitting her. i didn’t hear what she said, it’s late, I was listening to the radio, I heard her anger not her words. he mumbled, he always mumbles, i don’t know what he said, either. he sounded kind of defensive. whiny. “you said that the last time you hit me” she hollered.

My other neighbour, the tall insouciant brown man, always smokes outside on the boulevard, said eventually, “hey, you guys, it’s late”.

“Yea, I know”, said my downstairs neighbour, “We’re done”.

that was about an hour ago. And she was telling the truth. not a peep outta the pile of stuff below me since.

I like that woman. I know her name, but I think she’s forgotten mine. People in the building don’t like her because she’s so much messier than the rest of us (even me! which is another reason to like her), and she burns toast and then curses very loud at her smoke alarm before she rips it outta the ceiling (yet again)–and men were coming in and out of her place at all hours and she seems to be a bit over-medicated most of the time, (though not tonight, apparently), and she has a little dog–who was also yelling tonight, trying to do her bit to protect the ranch, i guess–

and people are sketchy about her and she’s sketchy about us, and what are those men doing there? though there seems to be just one consistent one now, the guy she had a fight with tonight, presumably…

we bloody well need to be better to each other. why is she allowed to disappear herself beneath all that stuff and anger and all those drugs? i know she needs a friend, but i’m not going over there, no way. I’ll just sit here and write about her be all self-trashy about letting a sister down. But what would I do, really?

we are in big trouble, not just her, all of us. If one of us sinks, we all go down. There are so many sinking…

i don’t know where i’m going with this, but i had to write that bit about, “I know. We’re done”. that was kind of funny. He didn’t have anything to do with the end of the fight. I like that. she said what she had to say, and they were damn well done when she said so.

time to go to bed. my eyes are hurting.

About easilyriled

My mom was Edith, my dad was John. I have a brother, who is Shawn. I have many friends and allies and mentors in my life. I'm white, over-educated, working in a field for which I am not yet trained, messy, funny, smart, lesbian, feminist "Not the fun kind", as Andrea Dworkin said. But I, like the feminists I hang with, ARE fun. Radical feminism will be the roots of our shared liberation. Rejection of sex-stereotypes (gender) and male domination will give us wings.

2 responses »

  1. What a funny but sad sad little story. Oh do I know about that paralysis in which you speak of. The knowing that you must act, and the knowing of not acting. It is self-preservation in a sense. You know if you get tangled up into her world, how difficult it will become to extricate yourself. You know this, that is why you don’t go down there. But then there is that gnawing that comes with, what if I can change something by going down there. Followed by experience telling you that you will not change anything. Oh yes, I know the paralysis.

    • Thanks, Kitty. yep. frustrating, that paralysis…difficult to know what to do, how to shift that massive pile of stuff in between us and freedom…


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: