**I am ready**
by Natasha Boskic
<br>
<img src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/moon.jpg" width="364" height="131" alt="moon">
It happened one [[evening]], when everything looked just like any [[other evening]]. I was tired. My limbs were becoming heavy, so I went upstairs to bed. I didn't even turn the lamp on, having decided to skip the regular reading routine. I put my pajamas on, the ones with the dark blue background and cartoon characters that I liked the most, and I squeezed between the sheets. As soon as my head touched the [[pillow]], I realized that my eyes were wide open and that the sleep was not going to come that night. That is how it [[began]].
I was standing next to the window, waiting, looking at the light rain, the street half-empty. I like this bird's-eye perspective. People lose their humanness. They become ants or spiders, whatever! Animals. Alive, but with no features.
I had heard him before I saw him. A young man, obviously from the neighbourhood. He wouldn't wonder around every day, if he weren't. Talking to someone only he could see. The conversation was sometimes louder, sometimes quieter, but almost always an argument. He yelled, cursed, occasionally even ready to fight that invisible other.
Is his world less real than mine?
- Are you here for the first time?
- Yes.
- I come every year. This is my fourth time. I found all the events so inspiring. You'll see.
I nodded. She was quiet for a few moments.
- I like when they read from their novels. Hearing their voices is a completely different experience. You should go to a "Literary Cabaret." That's something!
She goes on and on. I am not a chitchat guy.
- Excuse me!
I had to make everyone in a row stand up, to let me get out. The MC was already on the podium. I found my way to an exit in the dark. I opened the door. Nice evening.
<b>Lullaby</b>
When I can't sleep
I turn my pillow to the other side;
I bury my head deep
and smell a previous life.
It doesn't smell good.
It smells like rotten potato
and manure after rain.
But I breathe and breathe,
until I feel the roots growing,
chaining me to the dirt.
It has been [[seven years]] now, since I slept for the last time. I am often tempted to sell the bed, since it has become a useless piece of furniture. It takes so much space in the room. Maybe subconsciously I always think that I would need it again. It's not that I never lie down and rest. I do, but sofa is equally good for that purpose.
In the beginning, I was so overtaken by the possibility of having 24 hours on disposal that I didn't actually know what to do with the extra [[time]]. That was when I started writing, using Maya's [[glyphs]].
<b>Chronic intruders</b>
When I want to write a poem
a silence in me leaps out.
I stumble upon the same words
that have concurred the language.
My legs get bloody from their sharpness
while I push my way through.
On a blank piece of paper,
despite my will,
they fill the page
with their presence,
and leave no space for guests.
My poems keep repeating themselves.
I’ve broken all the mirrors in my house.
Now I can write for seven years.
Sometimes I have a feeling that my past is not mine. I can vaguely remember an episode or two, but it seems as if it all happened to someone else. I look at myself in the mirror. That other man does not recognize me. On the top, he is very hostile. Rarely does he smile. I cannot guess how old he is. And even if I remember that it is me I am looking at, I still cannot remember my age. Shit!
<img class="center" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/text_rotated.jpg" width="584" height="101" alt="Two foxes">
I had that book borrowed from the library, left on my shelf for months. I never actually got to the point of reading it. It was a copy of one of the four [[Maya's books]] that escaped the fires of the Spanish priest's anger in Guatemala in 16th century. In a single night, after discovering that years of converting these aboriginal peoples into Christianity couldn't prevent them from continuing to practice their pagan rituals, Diego De Landa [[burned]] hundreds of Maya's books, in hope to root out and extirpate every remnant of the ancient [[religion]] .
I'll thread a rope with thorns through my tongue. I'll let the blood fall onto a paper in a bowl. Then, I will burn the paper and the rising smoke will help me talk to the Sky World. I will receive divine power and everything will be good for me and my people.
<img class="right" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/1993.jpg" width="160" height="120" alt="Rope">
She was sitting next to me on the plane to Frankfurt. She tried to get up after her third Bloody Mary to go to the loo. She tripped over my knees and grabbed firmly onto her plastic cup. Of course, it cracked like a firecracker. Red tomato juice spilt over her blouse.
- It's OK. No one will notice. I lied, and she knew it, but she smiled at me grateful for my comforting words.
She was flying to a job interview, and a potential future colleague was waiting for her at the airport.
- No one will notice, I said, but I couldn't get my eyes off the red stain.
She tried to wipe it in the washroom, but it got even worse. The shameful, pale-blooded evidence was growing on her chest like a medal.
"Congratulation, soldier! You had three shots, and the third one was fatal!"
It took me only a few weeks of those long nights to learn the glyphs. Whether I had managed to decode the pages of Maya writings, I didn't care. I created my own meanings and translations, and I started practicing making the exact [[hieroglyphic codes]] using the modern fountain pen. I knew that the stroke did not have the same modulation of thickness, but I was not overly concerned about it.
At first, I used the paper I had (maybe half of a stock), bought for my home Epson printer. When I ran out of it, it was, of course, in the middle of one of those nights, so all the stores were closed. I had no patience to wait till morning, so I decided to use a piece of [[wall]] in my bedroom. It was a nice, white-painted portion, just behind the door, not noticeable, but very light. To use the space as much as possible, I restricted myself to making the glyphs the same size as I used to make them while drawing on [[paper]] .
How many times do I have to go over this? I learned them all. It's pointless. Even if something happened and I send a call for help, who knows how long it will take them to come for rescue. We will be nothing but an iron egg at the bottom of the ocean by then.
.. .... .- - . -.-- --- ..- -.-. .- .--. - .- .. -.
A sound of scratching woke me up: scratch, scratch, scratch. I was trying to locate the source. My cousin R. was still asleep. A neighbour came yesterday evening to complain. The old nag! He told my mom we were throwing stones at his chickens. I wanted to see whether I could hit that ugly one with a long neck. R. was afraid mom will call my aunt and tell on him, so she would come and take him home. And the summer holiday has just begun! We have so much fun!
I looked at his back. His face was turned to the wall. Suddenly, I had a feeling that he was moving slightly. It seemed that the sound was coming from him. I pushed myself up on my elbows to look over his shoulders. He was scratching away the plaster on the wall with his nails, and eating it!
He really screwed it up this time.
Well, yes, you may guess, I soon got rid of every shelf and chest of drawers that were touching the walls, and after a few months my bedroom looked like a [[Maiden room]], covered in embroideries as in the Schönbrunn castle in Vienna. I sometimes changed the ink into [[red]]. I don't like [[blue]]. It reminds me of my homework when I was in high school. Black, red or green are good for Maya glyphs. After about four to five months, I had to move out of my bedroom into the [[hallway]] .
She said she had something to show me. We had to wait for recess. She rushed with me behind the gym before all other kids were out.
- What? - I asked.
She came closer, pressed her body against mine and kissed me.
I can still remember the cigarette butts under her shoes, a graffiti on the wall saying "Dynamo", and an awful piss smell. Someone had done it in the corner. Her lips were moist.
<img class="center" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/cabinet.jpg" width="110" height="147" alt="Maiden room">
Well, yes, you may guess, I soon got rid of every shelf and chest of drawers that was touching the walls, and after a few months my bedroom walls looked like a Maiden room, covered in embroidery as in the Schönbrunn castle in Vienna. I sometimes changed the ink into [[black]]. I don't like blue. It reminds me of my homework when I was in high school. Black, red or green are good for Maya glyphs. After about four to five months, I had to move out of my bedroom into the hallway.
<br>
<img class="center" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/green.jpg" width="110" height="147" alt="green">
<img class="center" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/blue.jpg" width="110" height="147" alt="blue">
It was not that I write the whole night. Half of it I spend [[reading]]. I admire my sense of humour. I could be a very amusing fellow when I let my imagination fly. It's a pity I've never chosen a [[writer's]] career. Instead, I work as a delivery-man in [[FedEx]], loading and unloading the trucks, and driving around the town. I can hardly wait for my shift to be over, to get home and to continue my work.
There are some nights when I only read and not touch the pen. When I read the stories, I live through them [[through them again]].
Well, yes, you may guess, I soon got rid of every shelf and chest of drawers that were touching the walls, and after a few months my bedroom looked like a Maiden room, covered in embroideries as in the Schönbrunn castle in Vienna. I sometimes changed the ink into [[green]]. I don't like blue. It reminds me of my homework when I was in high school. Black, red or green are good for Maya glyphs. After about four to five months, I had to move out of my bedroom into the [[hallway]].
<br>
<img class="center" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/red.jpg" width="110" height="147" alt="red">
Dear J.,
I am so sorry about yesterday, but I couldn't help myself. Why did you have to dance with her when WE are together? And how you touched her! Yes, you said it was her expectation, but still, in front of everyone? I know I shouldn't have said anything, but I LOVE YOU. Please, please don't be angry at me! I won't tell you what to do and what no to do, ever again.
Can I see you tomorrow? Please! My place?
<img src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/flower.jpg" width="168" height="158" alt="flower">
Honey!
You are such a good dancer! And a real man. It's good you dumped that stupid doll. She can never make you feel good as I can. I can't wait for you to hold me in your strong arms again.
Come tonight. I'll leave the door unlocked.
I am fed up with girls who don't know what to do with their lives. You are CERTAINLY not what I want or need. You choke me. Don't call me again. I am not at home for you.
As for the evening, you'd better spend it with your TV. That's the only company that can stand you.
I remember so well the night when I realized with horror that there wasn't an inch of a blank wall in my apartment. I ran [[upstairs]], [[downstairs]], checked the insides of the kitchen cupboards, behind the sink in the bathroom; everything had already been used. I was standing in the middle of my living room with my head down, staring at the [[floor]]. I felt like I lost the reason for living.
Then, it came - like a vision, an epiphany, if I [[may say]]!
<img class="center" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/Hand.jpg" width="674" height="469" alt="poem">
<img class="center" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/Shake.jpg" width="592" height="354" alt="poem">
_________________________________________________________________
I rushed into the corner of the room and tried to lift the [[carpet]]. The excitement was so great that I didn't have time to look for a knife or some kind of a tool to help myself out with this endeavour. I used my hands and my sharp nails. I was rewarded! The empty wooden planks awaited me, thousands and thousands square inches of available surface, ready to embrace my beautiful glyphs. I peeled all the carpets and filled the [[garbage]] containers with them. Luckily, the tenants didn't complain. They probably thought that one of the apartments had been renovated. This wonderful solution enabled me to be busy and happy for another two-three years or so. Then I faced the same [[problem]] once [[again]].
<img src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/carpet.gif" width="600" height="200" alt="carpet">
<em>...and then Aladdin took Jasmine on a romantic ride on the flying carpet...</em>
Memories, if only I can forget! I remember everything, every single detail, words, colours, smells. If only they can fade over time, leave me alone. There are so many of them, fighting for space in my mind. I trick them when I go to sleep, push them far away. I've mastered sleeping with no dreams. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have those few peaceful, precious hours. My brain would explode.
The poems that we had to learn by heart in high school - I can still recite them. Rilke's elegies
<em>"Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels' hierarchies?"</em>
or Wordsworth's
<em>"And then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils."</em>
Out of everything I remember I can write a poem better and longer than Solomon's "The Song of Songs"
Simplify:
<img src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/img7.gif" width="151" height="33" alt="formula">
This time the solution came from my inner self, or should I say, from my outer self? I love this joke! Every new idea is an opportunity to learn something. I borrowed a number of books from the library. Their resources on this topic were limited. I learned the most from a guy who worked in the tattoo parlour. He showed me different types of [[ink]], but most importantly, which needles to use and how to make the drawings [[legible]].
<img src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/spot.jpg" width="362" height="234" alt="rorschach inkblot">
I spent months on preparations, learning how to write looking myself in the mirror, as well as how to use my left hand with equal skillfulness and proficiency. The coordination of movements was crucial. It was easy with those parts of my body that were visible and approachable. Reaching my back (oh, what a wonderful smooth space!), and arranging [[mirrors]] around me so that I could see and do it right was a challenge. At first, I was childishly afraid of taking a bath. I had to call all my sound logic for help to convince me that there was a reason behind why they called it a "permanent tattoo", so that no [[water]] or soap could wash it out! And I tricked them all with shaving my head and wearing a baseball cap for a week, until my hair grew back and covered the black glyphs. I left my face intact. I didn't want to turn too much attention to myself. There were already those nosy ones curious about why I wear [[gloves]] all [[the time]].
<b>Off with her head! Off with her head!</b> - the Queen of Hearts decreed.
I was almost late. I quickly left my jacket in the classroom and got on my place in the schoolyard on time. The whole class was already there, standing obediently in twos.
I am wondering how long this will last. I need to go to the washroom. I am sooooo cold. I have to stand still in this thin white shirt and dark blue pants. I am freezing. I have to go to the washroom soon, or... Focus on his bold head. It is such a perfect target for a snowball. Who cares about his speech? My ears will fall off. I am thinking about my house, a kitchen and a hot tea. Oh, God! I can't hold it any more. It's impossible to sneak out. The choir hasn't even started yet. They will all tease me.
I can't! I can't! I can't hold it!
"Wussy-pussy! Wussy-pussy!" They are laughing at me. I don't care. The liquid is so warm in my pants.
The ceremony has been going forever. I am sooooo cold. It's late January. I wasn't cold yesterday when I was pouring water on the pathway in the back yard, so that I can slide. It snowed all night.
We have to stand still the whole time in our white shirts and dark blue pants. I wish I could put my hands in my pockets to warm them. But. we have to stand still. They hurt so much. The pain is moving from the tip of my fingers to their roots, going into the palms. The urge is longer every time. I count to see how long I can hold it. Now it's getting close to 45; that will be almost a minute. If I say something or ask to leave, the older boys will mock me. My ears are like a glass, but they are not as bad as my hands. If only I could breathe into them. Oh, no! Tears!
"Whiney-miney! Whiney-miney!" They are already whispering to me, laughing at me.
I don't care, the tears are warm.
Now I am in dilemma again. I need to plan carefully, so I take it slowly. In the meantime, I enjoy standing [[naked]] in front of the mirrors and reading under the spotlights. It is almost [[romantic]].
I never enjoyed these collective, social activities. If I appeared naked in the city, they would arrest me. Now I am forced to look at someone else's butt and the rest of it, and there is no shame as if we had done this all our lives. Suddenly I should feel comfortable taking a shower with a bunch of unknown idiots! I will know them better in a few days, but that doesn't change a thing. I grew up with my cousin, but I never took a shower with him. Him, at least, I like. I hate this eyeing, comparing, boasting about something that never actually happen. What if I discover that I AM different?
I would most readily turn my back to them, but who knows what could happen then?
Speaking about romance, I think I have an idea. Maybe it is time for me to "settle down" as they say. What about that [[young girl]] in HR on the second floor? She is not ugly at all, and she doesn't seem to have anyone in her life. She is always polite with me, maybe too polite at some occasions, but that could be my advantage. She has a [[few extra pounds]]. Well, more than a few, which means a lot of skin. And, then... we can have children. Why not? There is nothing wrong with me, [[is there]]?
<img class="center" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/girlbw.jpg" width="867" height="651" alt="girl">
- Wake up, son. Today is the day.
- Do I have to, mom?
- Yes, dear, your father is already waiting for you.
- Is he up? (from outside)
- He is coming! Come on, get up, dear.
- Do I have to, mom?
- The neighbour and his son came 45 minutes ago, but HE is still in bed. Tell him to get up!
- He is only 11.
- I had to kill the first one with no help. He has to learn. I need him to hold the pig's head when I cut its throat. They are strong now. You may also come down and clean those guts. We'll have great sausages this winter. She is a fat one!
The [[possibilities]] are almost endless. I can feel my lips turning into a [[smile]].
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/o6de04588Pc" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<img class="center" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/Slide1.jpg" width="800" height="500" alt="moon">
Well, yes, you may guess, I soon got rid of every shelf and chest of drawers that was touching the walls, and after a few months my bedroom walls looked like a Maiden room, covered in embroidery as in the Schönbrunn castle in Vienna. I sometimes changed the ink into different colour. I don't like [[blue]]. It reminds me of my homework when I was in high school. Black, red or green are good for Maya glyphs. After about four to five months, I had to move out of my bedroom into the [[hallway]].
<br>
<img class="center" src="http://onlywords.ca/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/black.jpg" width="110" height="147" alt="black">