15 April 2001 ~ Silencieux...

Happy Easter...

Two years ago, on Easter, I was sitting alone in my dorm room, wondering how so much silence was possible. Everybody had gone home to spend the holiday with their families. The dorms were like tombs. No music, no muttering from the hallways, no footsteps on the stairs. My family, 2,500 miles away, didn't even call.

It's little wonder that so much suicide occurs on holidays. The silence has a sort of life of its own. It breathes into you. It sucks at you. It takes part of you with it, empties you out.

Two years ago, after an entire weekend of this silence, I walked a mile or so down the freeway and ordered coffee at Denny's. I just needed to see other human beings, and Denny's was absolutely the only place open. I love Denny's. For somebody who isn't very close with her family anymore, somebody who isn't really very close with ANYONE anymore, somebody who tends to be forgotten on days when all the stores close and people gather in little groups of their own to eat hams and potatoes and chat amongst themselves, Denny's is an absolute godsend. There's a Denny's in every single town in America, it seems; a little haven for lonely individuals on holidays, open twenty-four hours a day, offering at least background noise to combat the silence.

At Denny's that day, I pulled a notebook from my bag, but I couldn't will the words to exit my head. So much I was thinking, but I thought maybe if I started to write, opened myself up in the midst of the deathlike silence, I'd never be able to close myself back up, and the words would spill out into a vacuum.

It's not been quite so bad today. I've been cleaning, accompanying the dishes and sweeping with mix-tapes. I've already walked through downtown searching for someplace to eat, someplace to have a cup of coffee and read the paper, but nothing's open. There aren't even any cars driving up and down Main Street. The world has stopped. It reminds me a little of "Salem's Lot," post-vampires. But at least I have my mix-tapes.

Thought to go over to Norman's today, but he's asleep and his door is locked, with no key hidden outside for me. Perhaps just as well; I don't really think Norman feels the intensity of the holiday the way I do. He thrives in solitude: just himself and his guitar. Sometimes I think he'd never notice if the whole world stopped.

I had dinner with my family last night. As usual, it was a good time, although nobody carved little phalluses out of frozen hotdogs this time. We sat around, we chatted, we reminisced about the old Ukrainian lady who used to live down the street from us... Unfortunately, the pilot light in the stove had blown out earlier in the day, and the entire apartment was filled with carbon monoxide fumes, so I had a blasting headache and was feeling somewhat stupid by the end of the night.

Carbon monoxide has got to be a hell of a painful way to die. You start to hurt all over, you start to feel nauseous and a little stoned -- stoned, but not high -- and eventually you just get severe PMS symptoms: bitchiness, slight fever, depression, and little twinges of fear that you don't know what the hell your body's doing. Also, like MSG, which is another fun chemical that I try to avoid, it gives you REALLY bad nightmares and a little bit of paranoia.

I didn't realize what was going on for quite some time, just thinking I was sleepy. I tried to combat THAT with caffeine. Good job. I was up ALL night.

Begging myself to be tired and not succeeding in convincing myself, I went online and did a bit of research about Seattle. I even designed an itinerary for sight-seeing in the places where Twin Peaks was filmed... By the time I'd read through a zillion websites and discussion-group postings (most dating back to 1992 and making references to the L.A. riots, which I don't even really remember... How depressing is THAT?), I was so spaced-out with excitement, I felt like packing my bags...

Instead, I took a little walk... Stepping outside was SO depressing. Looking at my quiet little grey town, listening to the death rattle of day-before-a-holiday Main Street, I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and not wake up until August. I could even SMELL the mildewy reek of a ghost town. I imagined that a thick layer of dust could cover everything and nothing would seem amiss. All of the bars had closed. All of the lights were out.

I'm trying to find a little bit of peace now in this solitude. I'm always craving a bit of relaxation and time away from the rat-race. I'm trying to see it that way instead of as a time of deathly aloneness.

Still, I think I'm going to go out and check once again to make sure there's really NOBODY around... I really wish there was somebody... If there isn't, perhaps I'll just go to Denny's...

~Helena*