A DAY IN THE LIFE OF JE NE SAIS QUOI
douglas watson
I don't know what opened its eyes, saw the dull day, closed them. Opened them again.
After coffee, I don't know what didn't know what to do. There was something wrong with this day, a certain…
By the time it had lunched and napped, I don't know what was feeling pretty bad about itself. It felt ill defined, a sketch, poorly thought out. It had an urge to go somewhere or even to be something you could put your finger on. But who or what would lay a finger on something that couldn't be named?
In the middle of dinner, which included boiled peas, I don't know what had a premonition that something terrible would happen that very night. It didn't know what would happen, or at what hour, or how it knew, or whether it was right.
From 7:15 until 11:59, I don't know what sat stone still with the light off and the curtains drawn so it could see coming whatever was coming without itself being seen. Nothing came but midnight. I don't know what wanted to say something to the day that had ended, but although it looked, it could not find le mot juste.
At 12:01 I don't know what shambled off to bed, there to dream dreams it would lose, as always, upon waking.