Discouraging Morning…



I’m sticky. The black sleeve of my jacket reaching for the radio is furry with white from the covers. I’ve been dozing in my clothes. Outside, it’s overcast but not raining. Leaves are cramping the drain and there’s movement in the gutters. I reach for the radio and go downstairs. It takes the water half an hour to warm.

Saturday Morning

Mornings are for function washes, not a full ritual. While the tap runs I strip at the top of the landing, putting the things I’ve slept in straight into the basket. This saves effort. Also I don’t like to touch them again after I am clean. I collect a towel and kneel in the bath. Sitting wastes time.

The mirror behind the tap shows a kneeling torso, head chopped of sheer at the white plastic rim. I put the mirror there because I couldn’t work out how to hang it up without knocking lumps in the wall. Now I like it there: like looking through a window at someone else. Nipped in waist and pale, tight thighs with tiny pink scars- remnants of a past surgery. The scars only show when I wash but they’re there all the time: waiting to surface through the skin when I hit the water, like invisible ink. Not so visible when it’s luke-warm though. I splash to get used to the temperature then raise my arms and count the ribs. The mirror breasts tilt, nipples creasing in the draught from under the door. Then I wash. Just the soap and my hands taking the sweat of the night away. Making me sweet.

I descend down the stairs heading to the kitchen. Always tea in the morning unless I’ve eaten the night before: then it’s black coffee. Bad mornings, I have only hot water. But I drink something as much as I can. It helps the headache and the dryness: the weight of fluid is calming. I am leaning back on the worktop with the cup between my hands when a note twitches on the lino.

Phone Dr. …

I’m running out of Valium already? Could be an old one: it’s hard to tell. I check the clock and worry incase it’s stopped. Sometimes I have to haul it off the wall and listen for the tick to be absolutely sure. It’s ok. It’s always ok: just a matter of waiting. I get nervous waiting. When I am ready, I rinse the cup, mop the sink dry and lift my coat. My mouth is still dry as I lock the back door. My mouth is always dry.

~ by Disturbed Stranger on January 4, 2009.

41 Responses to “Discouraging Morning…”

  1. Yay! Great to see you back. This is a fascinating character you are describing here. I am left wanting to read more.

  2. amazing! glad tht ur back!:D

  3. Chillingly vivid!

    Chemistry did not only change the world around us. It also has profoundly altered the way we preceive life.

  4. I want more of that!

  5. welcome back!
    your writing sunk me in! keep it up ;)

  6. Hey ds. this woman is intriguing, I’ll bet she has a rich
    inner life, lives mostly in her head anyway. her little
    compulsions, like not touching her dirty clothes after she
    has bathed, hit home and make her more real. and the waiting,
    maybe the clock is broken, five minutes can’t take that long.
    hope there is a part two on the way.

  7. So nice to have you back. Your writing is as vivid and disturbing as ever. More?

  8. Welcome back :)

  9. oooh, i love this!

  10. Stranger,

    Nice to see you back. Was wondering where have you been all this while.

    The post is tremendously dark. Almost like in the subconscious of the human mind. I started reading and it was like watching her. Brilliant, I say. I don’t think it’s mere imagination (if it is, stupendous). I just loved it.

    Welcome back.

  11. Awesome. Welcome back!

  12. good to see you back again – hope our new year brings us more of this piece.

  13. I accept anything you have to offer.

  14. Heyy Stranger.

    It’s kind of strange. I had left my comment on you post a couple of days back. Why is not it showing here? Or am I not welcome? Do tell me.


  15. Brad- Thanks Brad. How’ve you been?

    zuz- Thank you dear

    Devil Finch- How very true…

    amethystos- you have to be patient ;)

    atoona- Thank you… And I’m glad it did… not too deep though, I hope…

    Cynthia- Seems like you know her quite well… and you’d be surprised how much depression alters time.

    lceel- Thank you… hmmm… I don’t know about “more” yet

    Amu- Thank you. How’ve you been? missed me? ;)

    Queen of the Universe- I’m glad to hear that!!

    Talking to my soul- I’ve been in the dark for a while… I think it’s a bit obvious. And thank you so much I’m flattered.
    You’re comments are there ;) your always welcome!

    harmonie22- Thank you! how’ve you been?

    yours truly- I know.

  16. This is different. Something about the images presented feels different from your usual descriptions. Your time away must’ve changed something. Either that or this is your alter-ego writing here :)
    It’s a good piece, but something about it feels more grown up, more mature than your previous writings. Or maybe just more hollow (and I don’t mean this negatively)

    Welcome back :*

  17. Have a lot of those scars…but mine are visible all the time, hate looking at some but like looking at some

  18. Oh and Valium doesn’t do shit for me anymore ….back then

  19. Hello.
    your writing style is very vivid. I could imagine the scene clearly.
    btw, thank you for visiting my blog and I also wish you a happy new year, filled with peace, joy and creativity!

  20. Hi Stranger,
    I thought I was reading about you in this post. I didn’t realize it’s fiction. I have lots of scars from having chicken pox as a child. I picked at them to no end and left me scarred forever. ARGH!!! I wish I’d listened to my mother then.

    Thanks for visiting and commenting on my blog.

    Happy and prosperous 2009 to you.

  21. You are a very talented writer and this whole post is written so fluidly. It was very easy to conjure up the images in my mind. Thanks for your kind words at my site. They are much appreciated.

  22. hanan- Yeah “more mature”, that’s it.

    Adrenaline- Those are fine… It’s the internal ones that are ugly…

    Duni- Thank you and welcome here!

    tashabud- chicken pox scars are harmless in comparison to those in reference here.

    teeni-Thank you for visiting. I’m glad you enjoyed it.

  23. You write well – I’m guessing you are not a glass half full person. Now I have to look up all those phobias to see which we have in common. Could you just email me the definitions?


  24. Time away is not a bad thing, else how can one feed the soul?

    This piece is beautifully dark..and as always you tease and entice.

  25. wanted to say have a blessed 2009

  26. vivid.. real.. love it.

  27. I sense an intriguingly dark storyline here and I am liking it.:)

  28. where have u been

  29. This was beautiful and sensual! Dry mouth I think, is a by-product of honesty

  30. I’ve passed the butterfly award to you =)

  31. Like the picture.

  32. disturbed stranger you r amazing and this is so intense i’m just like stunned with my mouth open and will be open today now because of it to observing the details of inner/outer perception as if through a soft malleable crystal ball. soft because there is too much humanity in it to make it ever be breakable

  33. Heya! How are you doing? Cooking up another masterpiece I suspect. Just thought I’d drop by and say boo. Boo!

  34. Butterfly Award

  35. Very vivid discription of one of those mornings. I’ve had those mornings. . . They normally follow too much drink the night before. . . they normally make me feel slightly depressed; sometimes really depressed for no apparent reason. Yes. . . I know of those mornings, indeed.

    Miss your writing. Do come back! Do have a sunshine morning soon!

    Peace, Light and Love to you yours. . .

  36. I agree. I enjoyed this immensely.

  37. I realize you turned comments off on your latest post, but I simply must say – I can really relate to that poem. It took my breath away, literally!

  38. Disturbed Stranger, should the blogsphere worry about you?
    If it should, then I’m sending much love and healing your way, and leave you with my all-time favorite poem:

    row, row, row your boat
    gently down the stream
    merrily merrily merrily merrily
    life is but a dream….

  39. like cordlieb, i know you’re not taking comments lately but either way keep writing and keep hanging on. hang on.

  40. You are a wonderful writer. This is superb story telling. Perhaps you could think about publishing?

  41. Thank you all for your comments, support and concern…

    and Paul I’ve been working on a novel that I plan to publish but for some reason I’ve been facing a serious case of writer’s block…

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