Sunday, June 29, 2008

The Black Room In Arkansas

I gave up looking for the cat and found myself back in Dalia's apartment. Quite unsurprisingly, Dalia treated me as if I only went out for a stroll. I was gone for about three days actually. But then it's not as if I owed her an explanation or anything - and, to her credit, she did not ask for one. We had lazy sex in the afternoon - by that, I meant that she did all the work as usual. I just laid back, half asleep. After that, she was exhausted. I got up to wash off the black lipstick stains off my cock, sat on the sofa and read "La Philosophie dans le boudoir" and an issue of "Omega The Unknown". Interestingly, this is probably the first time that I was awake in this apartment during the afternoon. Couldn't really tell the difference because the windows and ceiling have all been painted black. Dalia is just that kind of girl. Her snoring was about as loud as the Nina Simone record playing in the stereo. Nina was snorting and Dalia was snoring. That was the background noise to my reading. I read for three hours straight while listening to Dalia's snoring and Nina's snorting. The whole thing had a calming effect on me. Like I'm surrounded by life in a room that celebrated the blackness of death. Like I'm swallowed back in the womb but trying to suck every bit of nutrient to stay alive. Freud would have a ball. Me? It's probably just post-coital euphoria. In the evening, I took Dalia out for dinner. She had a steak. I thought she was a vegan. But she sucked on the steak-juices like a demoness from some old Japanese monster movie. I tried to look away. Was she sucking me off like that just that afternoon? No wonder the French explained the climax as a "little death". Here was a cow killed in order to feed the appetites of another cow. It was sickening and I lost my appetite. I drank some apple juice and left my steak untouched. To her credit, Dalia did not ask me about that either. Truth is, we don't really talk very much. I don't have any money so Dalia paid for dinner. Went back to her apartment. Dalia put on some old Spanish frock and danced around the room. I took a photo of her using her instant camera. She continued dancing while I dozed off to sleep.

"Do not seek the because - in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions."
Anais Nin