chapter fourteen.

last night, when i was six, i went into one of those revolving cylinder attractions like they have on fair grounds and at amusement parks and i developped instant vertigo. one of those things where you're supposed to stick to the wall, and the whole thing spins and that's what makes you stick, and then the floor moves down. i was too light to be in there, and i was falling down, and one of the teens there got unstuck from the wall and came to my help. i didn't find it funny, and i wanted to throw up. i had nightmares for years, with the floor vanishing from under me, stuck to a convex wall, sliding down slowly but without rest. nightmares of vertigo and of falls.

the boyfriend installed a ladder in my living room. he bolted it to the floor. he put a swing-like seat up there, near the ceiling, for me to use as a goal. i am attempting to combat vertigo enough to be able to attempt skiing. it's not the height of the mountain that robs me of blood circulation, it's the awful lift device. depending of something that flimsy, being stuck high up with nothing under me - just thinking about it makes me sick. watching people doing it on television makes me nauseous (what are they, insane? no way man, no way). so this won't be an easy battle. i am hoping that within the next twenty years i might be able to reach the top of a ski station's mountain. for now, i'm going up as high as i can on the ladder every day, and staying there for a little while to get used to it. i've only started last month. now i can step on the fourth step for a while. it used to be that the third step was my absolute limit, so i'm moving ahead. even though it sounds pathetic. three, four steps, that's nothing, right? i know. but it's high enough for me to want down, for my flight or fight response to trigger the "flee, flee you fool!" response in big bold shiny glittering blinking red neon letters, for my sweat to start dripping in tiny droplets, my heart to pound. i get down before i faint. so far so good.

i figure this is my way to self-improvement. ha! well, i figure that attacking such a consequenceless problem is not that big a deal, and doesn't turn me into a new age know thyself type. i'm not against self-improvement, i just find it is a rather empty goal. so let's say i am doing it for the boyfriend. because he'd so love to see me ski. or attempt to, anyway. he was probably the kind of guy i had crushes on but also wanted to stab in high school. a jock. a popular pretty boy with money in the family (he has since broken his nose twice, his ankle once (and i'm told that cramps your jock style) and has been cut off from any of the family money - otherwise i probably would have never met him - because i never would have looked at him.) anyway he was a skiier, on the slopes every minute he could get, teaching and patrolling and doing all kinds of things that are completely abstract and vague to me. he took me to a ski resort a few times, because he used to have a rented condo up north, and he'd manage to drag me there a few times a year. i had never seen a ski resort up close before. it's all very unclear to me what the thrill is, and how those things work, how you know where to go and which slope to try and how much space to leave between people and how you don't lose your friends and such - in fact, everything that can happen after the lift is a blur to me, because that's very much where my limit is. so i stay at ground level, and i enjoy the no ski after ski, and i drink with the best of them (i mean best drinkers - i have no idea who the best ski people are, although i do comment to myself about their ridiculous trendy outfits). so skiing is fun for me too. and every time i was happy to leave for home from the bottom of the hill, because drunk as i was i never would have been able to make it down.

anyway. winter is coming and i'll probably complain about having no ice skates as i always do, and do nothing about it as i always do. so much for self-improvement. every fall it's the same thing, the boyfriend turns into a cromagnon man: winter bad, huh, me fix things, huh. so he plastifies my windows, removes the screens, patches holes, buys salt front the front entrance, makes sure i have hats and mittens in plenty. like i said, he's my mother. and my father. that's cool. i so don't care about the passing of the seasons that i fhe didn't have all those alien rituals, i probably would never find out about leaves falling and black flies coming to life.

i was away the last two days. community service. at least that's what they call it. i'd call it boring. and long. and why did i have to get dressed for this? and it started with a little training session in a little training room with lots of crappy chairs and no window and stale doughnuts and piss coffee. and i ended with much of the same, but everything - the room, the pastries, the coffee - was just much staler. i shouldn't complain, it's better than paying a fine or doing time. or so i'm told. it's true i wouldn't like it very much in prison. sharing my space, not having privacy, being told what to do... not quite my style. and all those women! i'd go nuts. i'd much rather be in a male prison. not that they'd allow me in. but all things considered, i'd prefer it. what did i do to deserve the community service crap assignment? wouldn't you like to know.

my neighbors had sex last night. the ones with the kids and the fighting and the constant noise. i mention that they had sex because it's only happened three times since they moved in. well, i've heard them three times, and i can hear everything that goes on in there. perhaps i missed a few times, being elsewhere. perhaps. anyway it was weird. a few minutes of bang bang ooh aah, and then they broke into a major fight. for once i couldn't decypher their words. mind you, a fight that breaks right into the middle of intercourse is usually about only a few possible issues. impotence, pain, speed at which he's done. perhaps we can add apparent symptoms of venereal disease and obvious faking. well, unless the woman did what i did a few times to upset then lovers, and made a remark about something completely unrelated, but showing pretty well that she was miles away, thinking about something that has nothing to do with the poor guy and his eager penis. they don't like that. somathing about the groceries is always nice. like, oh shit i forgot to buy limes at the grocery store! or i hear it's nice this time of year in sweden. or did you think to buy yourself vitamin c yesterday? oh yeah they love that. especially when it's delievered with good timing, when they're so sure they're on their way to heaven, taking you with them like some genital charming prince, as if ramming in and out ever sufficed to anything.

anyway, they had sex, then they had a fight, then the sex resumed (that is more puzzling). and then before i got mad (i'm getting better at this self-control crap too!) i remembered my cute ear plugs, and i put them in. then i ate a cheese sandwich and pretended i was in mexico. by that, i mean that i sat in a hot bath tub with epson salts and a tanning light. well, it's not a tanning light, it's one of those ultra violet thingies for light therapy. the boyfriend thought it could cure me of what he calls my seasonal depression. poor sweetie: my depression isn't seasonal, unless a life is a season. but in any case i actually like the lamp, so even though officially i put it in the back of a closet and never use it, i do unpack it every week or so, and bask in its shine.