“And tell her there’s a darkness on the edge of town…”
– Bruce Springsteen
I don’t know where she is now so for me she doesn’t exist any more except in the memory of her blue eyes.
She had the bluest eyes that I had ever seen, especially when they were washed by tears – and they were frequently washed by tears.
Her laughter – only the intensity of her laughter, sometimes, could match the intensity of those tears.
The second I saw her I knew that we would be together, and I also knew something else.
I knew that we would be together, and I knew that it would also never last long.
I was right on both counts.
When she was in her right mind, she was one of the happiest, most lively and endearing people I have ever met.
But when the shadows came, when the dark clouds descended upon her (and upon me when I was with her), she turned into the most disturbing individual (or one of the most disturbing individuals) I’d ever known.
It was always projection, projection, projection, according to my interpretations of all of this.
She was always projecting things upon me.
Telling me what I was thinking (when I wasn’t thinking it).
(But sometimes she really could read my mind.)
Telling me where I’d been (when I hadn’t been there).
(But sometimes she was right and I had been there.)
Telling me what I wanted to do (when I didn’t want to do it).
But sometimes I did want to do it.
She was astounded by my “sexuality” (dastardly word), which must have struck her as a rendition of Warren Beatty as Clyde Barrow (or Charlton Heston as Michelangelo)…(she understood the romantic relationships in both of those films very well after she was finished with me)…
And the Desert Fathers and Christian saints, like Paul (who also remain celibate for much of their lives, most of their lives, also like the knights, say, Lancelot, Don Quixote and Galahad)…
(Freud’s “sublimation” is a tragicomic reality for some of us.)
For her, who had made her way through the world by using her body (and her mind) so much, someone who could take a pass on using that body (like I could) seemed like an utter confounding mystery and piece of misery.
It was just another thing that came between us.
The fact that I was married (but didn’t live with my wife) was another thing she never could get her head around.
Samuel Beckett once said of one of his characters that he was alone, utterly alone. And if he had been married, he would have been just as alone as he was without being so. Or even more so.
There have been three women in my life named Mary (or versions of Mary).
I nearly married all three of them, and spent, in reality, very little time with any of them. But these three (so far) have haunted my dreaming days and waking nights in a way that has gone way beyond the ordinary.
Someone once said about Samuel Beckett’s great character Krapp that “all his women are ghosts.”
I think of the girl in the shabby green coat standing alone on the station platform in the snow waiting for another train to take her away.
I think of her turning away from me and me grabbing her shoulders (then gently) and turning her back toward me to see her blue eyes again filled with tears.
I think of her saying, “It’s only you I can tell any of these things to, and it’s only you who has ever understood me at all” (and I wonder if it’s true…).
The world is filled with many sources of sadness, and all of them (or almost all of them) have to do with some sort of separation.
When we are alone so much we turn to other things.
Theodore Roethke sang, “The mind enters itself, and God the mind, / And one is One – free in the tearing wind.”
literally stories 
Beautiful words about tragedy and tragic people and loneliness and maybe even hope. Thank you – dd
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Thank you, Diane.
Your comment is itself beautiful, and poetic; and deeply appreciated.
Dale
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Hello Dale
The second Sunday will never be the same without you–so here’s to hoping it becomes a long standing tradition.
I believe that some people confuse loneliness with choice. Not you, but many others. do not understand that some of us are so completely, and naturally, insular that the only time things go wrong is when we feel the need to interact with people because it is expected of us (usually by a parent). This is when train-wrecks ensue and addiction becomes a “shelter (Dylan’s definition) from the storm.”
In this respect, autism, to me, sounds like heaven–maybe even better than opium. And I believe that the worst of things might be experiencing loneliness yet at the same time a lack of privacy.
This is beautiful writing and for those persons who want to see more of you today, please visit Saragun Springs! All one has to do is google the Sunday Drifter.
Leila
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Thank you so much, Leila!
I will continue to do my best to produce work that is worthy of the second Sunday. I appreciate the chance to contribute to Literally Stories in such a manner.
Just the word “opium” makes my mouth water even when I don’t have any handy. CONFESSIONS OF AN ENGLISH OPIUM EATER has always been one of my favorite titles (and by that I mean both the book, and the title). The movie they made out of that book, starring none other than Mr. Vincent Price, is both ridiculous and sublime simultaneously. Vincent Price deserves far more credit as one of America’s greatest actors of all time, literally.
Thank you again for everything as always!
Dale
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The parenthetical asides brilliantly undercut the narration’s otherwise certainty which feels truer to memory than a more confident voice would. “But sometimes she really could read my mind.” Excellent and heartfelt essay.
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Thank you, David.
This is a brilliant analysis of a writing technique that was used first intuitively, and later consciously, during revision. It’s funny how those little marks ! , . : ; ” “/ ? ( ) [ ] { } * & – can change so much about the voice in a piece of writing!…
Thanks again for everything…
Dale
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Dale,
Whether it is the illusion of missing the company of a lover or the real thing, seems beyond my ability to comprehend. It feels the way it feels, one way or the other.
Whenever looking fora way to perceive reality, if I can, I turn a reliable source, Satan, who In Paradise Lost, said, “The mind is its own place.”
I believe him without understanding. Perhaps knowing the way it seems, is all we have.
A bitter/sweet piece! I loved the parenthetical thoughts. — Gerry
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Hi Gerry
Milton’s Satan is a great character to call attention to in this context. I often remind myself how, after being kicked out of the nest by God, the reason he decides to bring ruination down upon the heads of humanity is because he’s totally jealous of the innocent, sweet dalliances between Adam and Eve. And he’s more than a little in love with Eve and knows full well that he can never have her. His descriptions of her hair alone are worth the whole poem. Thanks for throwing Satan into the mix, he always makes things more interesting! (“I’d rather reign in hell than serve in heaven.”)
Dale
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Hi Dale,
All relationships should be simple but they are complicated and many a time, beyond our comprehension.
It takes some years experience and some human wisdom to realise that it is very easy to love someone but impossible to be with them.
No matter what a persons situation, being at peace with themselves is the most powerful trait in the human arsenal!!
All the very best my fine friend.
Hugh
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Thank you, Hugh.
Yours are truly words of wisdom that can bring consolation to many heartbroken people if they take the time to consider them, and take them to heart. Loving is surely not the same as “can be with” in all cases. And loving yourself first is the most important task for all of us, always – and it is NOT the same thing as being narcissistic and selfish, by a long shot. Whoever it was who first pointed out that you can’t love anything or anyone else without loving yourself first knew whereof she or he spoke.
Thanks again!
Dale
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Beautiful writing as always – your command of language is superb in that it looks effortless, but cannot be, as your tone and flow are so easy to read, and make me feel like I know you, an old friend. Above all, your pieces make me think and this one left me pondering how the words ‘alone’ and ‘lonely’ are so often conflated, when their is a clear and respectful distance between really.
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Thank you, Paul.
I can honestly say that your work gives me the same feeling, like reading the work of an old friend. Your characters are both very realistic and very likable at the same time, which is not an easy thing to accomplish and adds up to a high memorability factor. Thanks very much for sending your work to Saragun Springs, too!
Dale
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How such a gently lyrical piece can ‘hit’ with force. Nice bit of humour too around the L word.
Geraint
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Thank you, Geraint!
Some of your work inspired some of the Beckett references in this piece.
Dale
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