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visible versus not
Apr. 7th, 2006 01:39 pmin person, i'm recognizable. I suspect, however, it's just that I have an air of being familiar. I don't look like their cousin, or their neighbor, and so people have the sense that they know me, that they've met me before. In a way, it helps me blend in. But it has its drawbacks. I can have longstanding acquaintances (waitstaff from the much-mourned connaught, for example) who will rush up and pump my hand enthusiastically, faces wreathed in smiles... and yet, they've never learned my name.It never occurs to me that they might need to know my name. I'm invisible.
And yet, some human, wistful part of me wants them to know my name. wants them to be able to say on the phone, "oh, kobi... yes, hello!"
We had a delicious guest yoga teacher last weekend. There really is no other way to describe them. Blithe, nimble, spontaneous, with a beautifully sculpted form that could joyfully twist and lift into impossible positions. They were limned with beauty and grace, while being preposterously unaware and boyish. Truly, a deadly combination. Nothing so ludicrous as 20 girls competing for the vague attentions of one boy, however beautiful he was. You could tell that he both craved the attention and wanted nothing to do with it. So he'd be familiar and then distant- playing with someone's foot one minute and then sitting literally hip to shoulder against someone else a few minutes later... all without knowing anyone's name.
I want someone to know my name.
I want to be invisible.
It's a war within myself, manifested in my continual struggle to release myself from the excess flesh that warms me, comforts me, renders me invisible.
And yet, some human, wistful part of me wants them to know my name. wants them to be able to say on the phone, "oh, kobi... yes, hello!"
We had a delicious guest yoga teacher last weekend. There really is no other way to describe them. Blithe, nimble, spontaneous, with a beautifully sculpted form that could joyfully twist and lift into impossible positions. They were limned with beauty and grace, while being preposterously unaware and boyish. Truly, a deadly combination. Nothing so ludicrous as 20 girls competing for the vague attentions of one boy, however beautiful he was. You could tell that he both craved the attention and wanted nothing to do with it. So he'd be familiar and then distant- playing with someone's foot one minute and then sitting literally hip to shoulder against someone else a few minutes later... all without knowing anyone's name.
I want someone to know my name.
I want to be invisible.
It's a war within myself, manifested in my continual struggle to release myself from the excess flesh that warms me, comforts me, renders me invisible.
