open doors

Seeing the cinema screen was on the third floor I decided to use the lift rather than climb the sequence of escalators.

Two shafts.  The one on the right indicated it was on the ground floor already.  I pressed the up button.  The doors on the one on the left parted first so I walked into that one and pressed Button 3.  The doors closed and I stood there for a second.  Then they opened again.  I pressed the inward arrows to close the doors, Button 3 still lit up, and the doors closed again.

Then they opened again.  I was aware of glances from cinemagoers queuing for tickets and grew a little red.

I pressed the inward arrows again, and once more the doors closed.  Work now, lift!  Come on.

Then they opened again.  I boiled, heat seeping into my face, and considered kicking out at the stupid metal door.  Fuck sake.

This time then.  Clooose.  And go.  Come on.  Up.  This time.  I pressed the 3 several angry, urgent times, and the doors closed button several angry, urgent times.  I jumped as the doors closed, as if to jolt the carriage into remembering its function.  Caaalm.

The doors opened again.

Now I was ready to hit, stamp or kick something.  I ignored the faces of all the people as I stomped towards the escalator, not seeing the funny side of anything.

Was it some kind of complicated metaphor for my whole sorry little fucking life? Just keep pressing the inward arrows.  You’ll move eventually.  Something’s bound to happen in a moment.  Just ignore the people staring and laughing at your dorky misfortune.

Isn’t one definition of insanity trying the same thing over and over again, and failing at said ‘thing’ every time?

Shush now brain; be quiet, sit down, watch the film.

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4 Responses to open doors

  1. Redbookish says:

    You’re too tough on yourself (or maybe that’s an effect of writing and trying things out in words?) — these things happen all the time to me, and to lods of others, I’m sure. So you’re not alone!

    Great blog — I like the way you write.

    • swashbuckled says:

      Aw, that’s a sweet comment, thank you. It’s possible I am too self-critical, but aren’t most people? Also do allow myself to get a little carried away when writing. Hope America’s treating you well.

      • Redbookish says:

        America’s a bit warm, but this week is cooler than last. Back in the blessed temperateness of Europe soon, and on hols, and then I’ll miss America. Life would be much improved with a teleporter. Can’t think why the scientists don’t invent one. They have them on Star Trek.

        Re the self-criticism: I think that’s often a function of writing. Writing gets a line, a trajectory of its own. Thoughts stay woolly and knitted in webs (to mix a metaphor).

  2. swashbuckled says:

    Europe misses you. Scientists are rubbish. They practically disproved time travel this week too, which anyone who’s seen Back To The Future *knows* is possible.

    I think my thoughts would stay woolier and more webbed if I didn’t write them down or vomit them out in some form. Not that they’re always hugely coherent or polished here, particularly in comparison to you lofty academics. Just feels marginally more healthy than talking to myself, or to a wall. Agree that once you start it can take on a life or momentum of its own.

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