VOICE & VISION

I walked in the house. It was a large house with many rooms, all on the same level. An old-fashioned bungalow, the roomscarpeted and dark, even In the day. I headed outside. On the steps I let go of the papers I’d hadattached to me. It was as if I was a tree and they had sprung from my sap. I watched them shred, blowIn the wind. I scraped them from my leg, where some of them were reluctant to leave. One page wastaken up, and floated on the wind, it’s two sides flapping, almost like a bird. I watched it, and yes, itappeared to be alive, even though it’s edges were torn, the print no longer making much sense.

Whole paragraphs had been typed out. They now flapped gracefully, and free from me. In the distancewere people playing on the grass. They were a long way away, but I could make out their shapes. Themoonlight made them visible. I crept back inside, walked on stockinged feet across the dense carpet. Itwas an old carpet, but thick. I walked towards the three bridal headdresses in the corner of the house.They each had two large trumpet-shaped flowers on top, then some other delicate trailing flowershanging down. They were not for me. I picked one up, wondered what it would look like on.

The door nearby was slightly ajar. I pushed it further open, saw a mirror. Then I realized that thebathroom opened out into my parents bedroom. My mother and father were asleep in there. I backedout, closed the door behind me. I placed the hedress back with the other two, walked back across thecarpet, my stockinged feet like a cats. I touched a door. It was an outside door, in the middle of thehouse. A doorway going to nowhere. It was a while before I realized this, that it was an outside door,in the middle of the house, going to nowhere. I held the edge of the door, thought about it. It was nextto the arm-chair, old and dark. It wasn’t far from the couch. I thought of the words flapping away in thenight, wondered where they were going.

Juliet Jackson

1 July 2011

A child building with coloured wooden blocks, a tower so high that I smile.
Words forming a story on a page.
The child tracing the letters of the alphabet, stacking them into a language.
The scaffolding of the new house next door.
The rearrangement of chemicals making a human life in my womb.
Our first conversation outside the lecture theater, then the cup of coffee in the quad.
The touch of a hand on my cheek, the taste of your lips.
Digging out the depths of my loneliness with a relentless noise.
solitude a friend I hope will one day return for a visit.,
Making the bed, then tidying up the blocks, the commando doll, the half-eaten biscuit fallen behind the sofa.
A black-bird stands on the damp grass, tilts its head holding a worm as long as its body.
The chemicals of flight are gathering.

Juliet Jackson

1 July 2011

Well, this morning when I woke up there was an animal in my stomach eating away at my insides.  It had sharp little teeth, like a shark’s, and a fierce expression. So I figured I’d try and get rid of it.  I doused it with a very strong cup of coffee, then a shot of whiskey.  Well, that just made the damn thing all the more frisky, so I decided the best idea was to ignore it.  I had to be funny all day today and it was getting me down, I mean really down.  I thought about ringing Robin Williams, but figured he’d be too busy working on his Mork routine to talk right now.  Mindy was flaking, really not operating on all four cylinders.   Typical.

I sat on the edge of my bed, looked out the window.  On the line next door I could see a pink night-dress and a pillow-slip.  It would be good to ring Marilyn Monroe.  Really great.  Then I remembered she was dead.  I wondered for a minute if I should change my name.  I mean, Rowan is a girls name, but then I guess it’s too late now.  Should have thought of that before I got famous.

I’ve got a worm farm in the garden.  I went to feed the worms my potato peels from the night before.  The peels were still sitting in an ice-cream container on the bench.  That’s when I thought of calling John Banks.  I put the idea out of my mind.  It’s important not to give certain thoughts too much attention, like the thought you’d like to run in front of a bus, for instance.  A psychologist told me that once.  It’s best not to give that sort of thought too much attention.  I fed the worms in my worm farm their potato peels.  They seemed to like them.

It was then that Meryl Streep dropped in.  Now, I wasn’t expecting her, so I felt pretty awkward about it.  She was dressed in a wollen suit, a dull green.  Well, that was just as well.  I mean, she’s quite good looking and so it was a relief that she was wearing that dull  green wollen suit.  The thing is she has a very feminine nose.  I decided the best thing was not to look at her feminine nose, so I focused lower down.  Meryl streep said:

Hi, Rowan.

Oh, I’ve changed my name to Sally, I said.

It just popped out, before I could stop it.  Meryl said she thought it suited me rather well.

Thanks, I said.

I thought maybe if I put my black cape on I’d feel more Manly, so I ran into the bedroom, started rummaging around in the cupboard.  I was humming: Dress for success under my breath.

Then I remembered Meryl Streep’s shoulder pads.  I stopped  humming dress for success.  I couldn’t seem to find my black cape, but I found a hat with a feather in it, so I put that on instead.

Just then George Clooney and that guy who plays Mark Green on E.R. came rushing in. I figured they’d come to extract the animal in my gut, the one with sharp teeth and a fierce expression.  I wanted it out, of course, but I had to be funny all day.  I  didn’t feel ready for surgery. Also I  wasn’t sure of their qualifications.  I made a dash for the back door.