The ants go marching
For the last week or so I have had fitful sleeps attributed to a pesky cough that has been waking me out of the depths of slumber. Sick and tired of being sick and tired, I decided to take a sleeping pill last night hoping to drift off into a deep, peaceful sleep for more than a few hours. It worked, I slept, but with the side effect that I am like a walking zombie today. Getting out of bed this morning took every ounce of determination that I had. Conclusion: no more sleeping pills unless I have ten or twelve or more hours to bask in bed.
After forcing myself into a vertical position, I peered out my window and watched cars line up and inch ever-so-slowly towards downtown. Each car was like an ant, marching along in step, going with the flow, and not questioning where or why or what they were doing. The occupants of the vehicles (generally one per car) stared blankly ahead of them and I began to wonder what they were thinking about. Did they have a nice night? Were they looking forward to their day? How many of them had sex last night? How many of them were happy deep down? What secrets were they keeping? While idling before my building, did they ever glance up to my window and wonder the same questions about me?
After forcing myself into a vertical position, I peered out my window and watched cars line up and inch ever-so-slowly towards downtown. Each car was like an ant, marching along in step, going with the flow, and not questioning where or why or what they were doing. The occupants of the vehicles (generally one per car) stared blankly ahead of them and I began to wonder what they were thinking about. Did they have a nice night? Were they looking forward to their day? How many of them had sex last night? How many of them were happy deep down? What secrets were they keeping? While idling before my building, did they ever glance up to my window and wonder the same questions about me?
posted by Leah at
2:32 p.m.
4 Comments:
i had to think of this short poems by leonard cohen immediately when i read the last post:
"I wonder how many people in this city | live in furnished rooms. | Late at night when i look out at the buildings | I swear I see a face in every window | looking back at me | and when I turn away | I wonder how many go back to their desks | and write this down."
yes: i had a nice night. i have been looking forward to my day. and i'm sort of happy deep down even though i didn't have any sex last night. or the night before. or the night before...
phillip, thank you for posting that. i've never heard that poem. it's so perfect though. how is it that leonard cohen always seems to be able to express exactly what i feel? sometimes i listen to his lyrics or read an excerpt from something he's written and get shivers because it feels like he's peered into my life and has written it to apply to only me. i'm sure everyone feels that way though : )
you have to tell me more about deluze. i feel so uneducated about him.
great post leah! imagine having 12 hours to stay in bed...i can't even remember the last time i did that...
walking home at night or on my way to work i always wonder about the people behind the glass i peek into: are they listening to a good song? are they waiting for a call or email that will make their shitty life better? are they longing for someone who isn't with them? are they drunk/stoned/sad/thrilled? in the three seconds i have to look at someone i want, in that instant, to know everything and nothing about them.
and i wonder, like mr. cohen, if they wonder the same thing about me. last night looking in on me i would tell them: that i was a little bit drunk, cold from my walk home, missing someone and definately NOT have sex.
great post! sorry my comment ended up being so long.
I'd probably have wondered those things if I were there, Leah! It's like in Amelie, where she wonders how many people are having sex right then!?! :)
maybe they all took sleeping pills that night too.
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