associated in random thought

rage and longing

yesterday, rage overtook me on my drive home from work. thankfully, it wasn't road rage, and i didn't attack the stupid person in the stupid car in front of me with a baseball bat. i was just driving merrily along, enjoying sufjan stevens singing happy songs, and as i turned the corner from pleasant valley onto oltorf, i saw it.

anymore, i keep my eyes peeled for an upturned austin water works manhole cover at the pleasant valley/oltorf intersection, where helen crashed. have i mentioned that this was the culprit of her accident? some city worker had left it in the bike lane. a small rusty disk could have killed her.

i hate this disk.

twice, we have moved it out of the road, leaving it on a sewer near the curb. and twice it has been moved back into the bike lane, as the water works folks are doing some sort of water work in the neighborhood.

we've called the city to report this idiocy, only to be transferred and transferred. the resolution? "write a letter." and someone would make a phonecall to someone else, suggesting they be more careful with their utility work.

as for yesterday, the fucking disk was in the bike lane again. this time, helen and i took pictures: of the AWW manhole cover, the gaping hole in the road it is supposed to cover, the black-dried pool of helen's blood still on the sidewalk. we'll send the photos with our letter. wish you were here.

a night of wonderfalls, wine, and homemade chocolate chip cookies eased my anger a bit. i fell into bed exhausted. my dreams were photos. i was standing before a desk, and someone held up a photo of etty hillesum.

[if you're new to my blog, you need to know that etty has been the catalyst for an awakening of my faith, and my hope. all the world has of her now are words and photos, as she died at auschwitz, when she was only 29.]

i studied etty's face in black and white, frozen. i'd seen the picture before. but then she started moving within the confines of the frame; she was suddenly a silent movie. and my heart leapt--i've never seen etty hillesum move before. i've always wondered about her expressions, her demeanor. my eyes welled up as they do when i dream about my dad, who has been dead 8 years now. it felt like a homecoming. and i woke up longing for her like a family member.

tags: etty hillesum
austin waterworks
dreams

Posted by bananie at June 2, 2005 8:31 AM | TrackBack