I swallowed the last mouthful of wine. I left the table in search of the washroom and found myself disoriented. There seemed to be an overwhelming number of doorways in the basement of the restaurant. Doors and mirrors and rooms and twinkling lights. I stood there, unable to make any sense of it. I wondered what was wrong with me, for the second time in a matter of minutes.
Moments earlier I sat at a table, pushing food around my plate. Two of my girlfriends were absorbed in conversation.
"And I said, look Jeff, you can't just tell me your parents are coming for dinner - you have to give me notice. These are the kinds of things you need to check with me about first."
"So what did he say?"
"Well he just wouldn't say anything at all. He kept watching television, as if I had never said anything."
I worked at spearing a lettuce leaf and a piece of yellow pepper.
"No, so I just said to him, you are NOT watching TV and pretending I am not in the room!"
Every now and then I looked up, trying to jump in somewhere but I couldn't even see a door. I couldn't find enough space at that table. I didn't even want to, but I thought it was only right to try. I made half-hearted attempts, but like a few minutes later in the basement hallway of the restaurant, I was stuck.
I took a hesitant step toward one door, only to find a room with cleaning supplies. The next, urinals. Nothing for me there..
There was no room for me on the menu tonight. No Room.
The funny thing is, I chose the place. I chose the company.
Imagine if I interrrupted them and told them,
"yesterday I posted a poem on my blog"
"No, you are right. I have never mentioned a blog. I have been writing in a weblog for well over a year now"
"I write different things, memories, excerpts from life, small fictions, poems, whatever I feel like posting. At least it gives me an outlet for some of the things I think and write, you know."
Cricket, cricket. Guaranteed two confused faces would stare back. Maybe slightly uncomfortable and a little bored.
"Yeah, so I posted a poem I wrote a while back that really gets at something that I go through over and over again. It is all about empty spaces and wanting to have them filled in. Wanting to be loved the way no one can ever love anyone. Wanting not to be dissapointed in a world where dissapointment is life's lining. Get too comfortable and the dish slips out of your hands and terrifies you, you know?"
"Wow, someone here is feeling deep today. You are so into that stuff."
"It's not about being deep, it's about the fear that fills me and paralyzes me and leaves me alone in heart pouding fear...I guess that is how I feel right now," I would tell them.
or then again I wouldn't. I haven't. I wonder if I ever will.