Friday, November 7, 2014

I'll Eat A Lot of Ice Cream: Pt. 6

He wakes up the next day in a bad mood.
Her side of the bed is empty, which makes him angry, because it means she's still fighting.
He remembers when he always got up first.
When she was depressed in bed he could use it against her.
When he knew she was already weighed down by negativity he could pile more on top of her.
When she exhibited signs that she was malfunctioning it made him look good.
Now he feels like he's permanently losing, and he remembers the time she told him it would be better for him if he stayed away from her.
The main reason he's losing is because he's over fifteen years older than her.
No matter what he does he definitely can't change that.
And on top of it he's still unsure whether or not she's smarter than him.
He used to look at a lot of the decisions she made and think they were pretty obviously dumb.
During that time he seemed to have all the power.
But later as things changed he looked back and thought about how her actions were deceptive.
As he lies in bed he has a moment of detachment in which he realizes he's obsessed.
Then he looks out the window and glares at the overcast clouds and for some reason he thinks about something he hasn't thought about for a very, very long time.
Actually not thinking about this particular topic for a long time for him is different than how it is for other topics.
He remembers when he got his first clue about "him" and how he thought about it every day.
He thought about the way she played the whole thing out and he still can't believe Richard doesn't exist.
His name is Dick?
There's something about the fact that he actually thinks that's the man's given name, and he feels like if it was any other name he wouldn't believe it.
Then he thinks about something he never conjectured about before.
He remembers the painting she gave him.
The one that was sloppy.
And he remembers how he told her it looked like a vagina to him.
Then he remembers that painting of the ballerina shoe she did that was in the women's restroom at that Italian restaurant.
Someone drew on it and made the shoe look like a penis, but only because it really had that potential to begin with.
There is also a painting she did of an orchid that looks phallic.
The phallic symbols must be representative of Dick, and she is of course present in the painting she gave him and probably others.
His eyes widen.
Is this possibly the reason why he was always drawn to her artwork?
Were the clues all there?
And what else was she doing this whole time that he was unaware of?
Then he thinks about something else.
He thinks about his first major art show.
The one where he incorporated the elements and women and secrets.
Could she tell what he was up to by looking closely at his work?
He feels like she probably could.
He always knew she had an edge on him.
He wonders if she noticed the last thing he did before the show?
Later he realized it was a mistake.
He made an amateur mistake.
First of all, the pieces were all obviously tied together by a common elemental theme.
But right before the show he applied these weird lines across them.
At the time he thought it was a brilliant idea, because it tied all of them together visually.
It was one of those moments when you find yourself taking a risk and feeling like it's a good idea, but underneath it all is the feeling it could be a big mistake.
Instead of thinking about the fact that it might be a mistake he kept going and did it to all of them.
It wasn't until he was in the room at the show watching people look at his work that he understood something was wrong.
Since there wasn't anything he could do about it anymore he pushed the truth away.
He does the exact opposite regarding Richard.
Something feels right and like the truth about this cipher.
At this moment she comes into the bedroom and looks at him oddly.
"What are you doing?"
"Uh, nothing, I was just getting up."
"Well, there's coffee downstairs. I'm going to Pilates."
And he hardly even hears her, because he has so much to figure out still.

No comments:

Post a Comment