May 23, 2001
We are the insomniac household, tossing on our expensive mattress like tide washed pebbles. Insomnia, initially at least, always fires me into a pleasant state of mild mania coupled with an invasion of thoughts that in nature fall somewhere between the regular thought and the dream. Last night I became fixated on an old thought of mine, and hardly an original one, but one I have a tenderness for. It consists of the notion that the emmigre, on departing, actually bifurcates leaving behind her another self to live out that non-departed fate. James Joyce, of course, ran away with the thought in the form of Leopold Bloom. Anyway, it persisted with me all night like a dream that informs your whole day. Perhaps it was the visiting friend; perhaps we're still giggling, still dancing in subterranean nightclubs, and still dating distracted and reticent men. Once, in Dublin, a couple of years ago I went to the theatre, a theatre I had frequented pre-departure. On this occassion I was alone and felt slightly self-concious about returning here and knowing that I would encounter old aquaintances. I had the distinct feeling that my other self had been religiously attending this theatre in my absence. I never go to the theatre in New York. Is this an exclusively Irish condition, the twinned citizen? Somewhere in the constitution it states that you cannot give up your citizenship, even if you choose to do so; you can be a dual citizen but can never renounce your Irish passport. Proprietary, reassuring, and understandable in view of our habit of departure.
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We are the insomniac household, tossing on our expensive mattress like tide washed pebbles. Insomnia, initially at least, always fires me into a pleasant state of mild mania coupled with an invasion of thoughts that in nature fall somewhere between the regular thought and the dream. Last night I became fixated on an old thought of mine, and hardly an original one, but one I have a tenderness for. It consists of the notion that the emmigre, on departing, actually bifurcates leaving behind her another self to live out that non-departed fate. James Joyce, of course, ran away with the thought in the form of Leopold Bloom. Anyway, it persisted with me all night like a dream that informs your whole day. Perhaps it was the visiting friend; perhaps we're still giggling, still dancing in subterranean nightclubs, and still dating distracted and reticent men. Once, in Dublin, a couple of years ago I went to the theatre, a theatre I had frequented pre-departure. On this occassion I was alone and felt slightly self-concious about returning here and knowing that I would encounter old aquaintances. I had the distinct feeling that my other self had been religiously attending this theatre in my absence. I never go to the theatre in New York. Is this an exclusively Irish condition, the twinned citizen? Somewhere in the constitution it states that you cannot give up your citizenship, even if you choose to do so; you can be a dual citizen but can never renounce your Irish passport. Proprietary, reassuring, and understandable in view of our habit of departure.
- rachael 5-23-2001 2:55 pm