Wardrobe - Object Writing July 28
admin July 27th, 2008
Clothes hanging on bat like hangars, empty and devoid as if Dracula had come by and sucked all the life out of them. Haunting ghosts in the darkened cave of the wardrobe. The darkness filled with all the action of yesterday, the aura of action surrounds each piece of clothing. The checked flannelet shirt that speaks of a hike in the north of England. The shiny vinyl 70’s shirt reminds me of a 70’s theme party where she got dressed up in fishnet stockings and paraded about like a call girl, doing her best rocky horror show impression.
I now have a system within the wardrobe instead of random clumpings of shorts and jeans and dress pants I go by colour. The left hand side starts with shades of yellow that morph into orange and then red and dark brown to black and grey. Sheets and pillow slips still sulk in a pile at the bottom of the cupboard.
Fingers run along the various weaves in a rough and smooth pattern when It’s time to select the clothes for the day. When ever I’m searching, the hangars slide along a chrome rail making a metallic swishing sound. They all collide together and click away like frenzied knitting needles at play. I’m not at the stage of needing mothballs yet, but it does seem to be rather stagnant when I open the doors. Maybe that’s a function of the light that occasionally illumines this secret place. Atop the wardrobe are a stack of boxes and collected memories hanging like an executioners guillotine.
