There is a demon in my television and at times I posses it

As many of you know, for the most part I am a mild mannered and one might even say genteel individual. I believe in the importance of being polite and I frown upon excessive swearing or "cussing" without due cause. However, sometimes the television.....

This didn't happen until Fiona moved out. The madness started to creep in afterwards. It is like the television could see that I was alone in the house, alone but for a white fluffy cat, and then it attempted to creep insidiously into the corners of my mind.

The other night I came home from a long office day and turned on the aforementioned television. I was sitting there watching ancient reruns of "Friends", half asleep on the couch with Anabel purring on my lap.

Then it happened. The demon I mean, I could feel it reaching its sinuous tentacles out attempting possession, attempting to brainwash me. I am not sure how long it was there staring at me before I noticed it, but notice it I did. Because in the middle of a shampoo commercial in which a sultry European voice promises strong, soft and shining hair. I found myself sitting bolt upright on the couch yelling "SHUT THE FUCK UP, SHUT UP!". The demon thus exorcised, I turned off the TV. I had visions of smashing the entire box Office Space style, but instead I coaxed Annabel out from behind a bookshelf and went up to bed with a novel.

It is true, I may be going mad. And you may pretend not to know me when you see me ripping out pages from the grocery store magazine rack or cursing the Stella Artois advertisements at the Landmark Theatres. But Reader, beware the demon that lurks within the network cables and sprawls on glossy print. She is waiting for you to let down your guard. She will coax you, amuse you, seduce you, annoy you. But if you let her in she will steal your soul and sell it for a premium.


I mean, really, just shut the fuck up.

Roma, still

My hotel room faces inward, looking down on the small courtyard and across to buildings that are not the hotel. From my window I can just see the corner of a room in a house or apartment across the courtyard. It seems to be a library or study since the wall is covered in messy overstuffed bookshelves. In front of the books there is a desk. When evening comes someone in the house turns on the green bankers lamp on the desk and sits working. From my angle I cannot see the person in the desk. I see only a hand that holds a cigarette and the smoke that curls in front of the shadows on the wall. The hand pauses to turn the page in a book and then returns to hold the glowing stick. Who is this who sits late at night as the smoke curls into the air?

Rome, Alone

In Rome it rains every afternoon. The mornings are clear, blue skies and warm, but every afternoon when I am done with work I am hit by a squall that quickly dissipates and returns to sunshine. I have learned by the 3rd day to carry an umbrella. My hotel, near the Vatican, is in a small alley of a street. An unassuming building but comfortable inside. I had stayed here once before with friends but this time I am on my own. Every morning I come down to the dining room and eat the bread, Nutella, and arrangement of chocolaty pastries served. The dining room and lobby are permeated with the smell of strong, rich coffee but, still, I take tea. This is not the first time I have come to Rome by myself it is in parts fabulous and lonely to wander the streets by yourself.

Airport

This is me at a cafe in the Frankfurt airport drinking a cappuccino and eating a sandwich.
What? You ask, am I not supposed to be in Italy, perhaps already arrived in my Roman hotel? Well, yes, but somehow the flight was overbooked and I decided 400 Euro was worth a day of napping and drinking coffee in the airport.

Germany is grey and flat today. I watch the jets lift and land as rain comes in over the low trees. For a moment a rainbow touches the runway and then the rain is here, splattering on window and drumming on roof.

I am writing to you the old fashioned way- on cocktail napkins. My computer has died and the converter inadvertently checked. Perhaps it is in Rome by now without me.

The rain is done now leaving behind high fanciful clouds and the palest of bluish-white sky. My coffee is gone but for a trace of foam and busy travelers rush to gates and awaiting planes. I wait.