Phonebooks
I remember I was going through a period where I would count the number of telephone directories I saw. It was after I broke up with Jonathon but before I met Rubin.
Rubin who helped me get back on track, get my head back together and stop counting. This was before all that, I was in a bad place because after two years together one day Jonathon just didn’t return my calls. So I counted phonebooks.
Sometimes if it was maybe two o’clock in the afternoon and I was in a café waiting for someone and I had gone all day without counting one I would have to ask the waiters and waitresses if I could use their phone.
Demand it. And sometimes make them go to the office and take the manager’s directory. When they came back I would be embarrassed but there was a sense of relief that I could count the phonebook.
Of course then I would have to dial a number. Or at least pretend to. And then pretend to have a really important conversation. One that would warrant demanding a phone book. It got that I would raise my voice and shout things at the dead receiver. It helped make them feel their efforts weren’t wasted.
I remember that it got to that time of year when someone had left a new phonebook on the steps to my apartment. I took it inside and tore off the plastic wrapper that saved it from the rain and flipped through to Jonathon. I was sad to see that he still existed.
18,276 phonebooks is too many. And to be honest, around the ten thousand mark I may have lost count.