About stuff (including me and writing)

Wednesday, April 06, 2016

The Ladder Is Not Baggage


There's a room in a building. With floors and ceilings and closets and baggage, paused in a process of unpacking, and windows. Windows for sure. Open, closed, cloudy, barred, letting in bugs and sunshine. There's a door in the room in the building which you know has its own doors, too. If a building stands on a street and there are no doors, does it make a building?

There is no ladder. I want to say there are no stairs, either. But the room, its floors and ceilings and closets and bags of baggage in the bags and on the floor and in the closet is on a non-ground floor. It is not on the ground. And its windows, letting in bugs and light and keeping some things or beings out. Are above the ground outside the building and also above the ground of all other buildings not built on higher ground.

Can a room be on the ground floor of a building and then, after time and presumably construction passes, on a floor upstairs? (There might be stairs.) If a room can climb or be lifted, be carried, carted, cranked up, there is that room. Movin on up.

The room has met its limit, elevation-wise. I don't want to say the doors are closed. The room's door is at least not shut. There is no window in the door. I want to say the closet door is ajar.

Now let's be real. Most rooms don't have a ladder. Maybe in their formative years, gestation, contractor making. Before it was a room on a floor above the ground, there was a ladder. But ladders in most rooms and hallways that host a ladder are just there to prove a point: how many ladders does it take to change a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Then the ladder goes away. The floors and ceiling and closets and baggage stay. And there are windows, for sure.

The room is a chapter. It's a level in a building and it leveled up. I want to say it is a game.

It's all fun until there is no ladder and windows let in bugs and light and heat and cold and outside there is no ladder going up or down escaping fire, the conflagration of the game. There is a room but in the room there is no blueprint of the rooms in this room's building. There is still, unless for changing the light, not a ladder in the room and if there were, who climbs a ladder from one room up or down or across to another room or out the building unless there is a fire and there is a fire escape of wrought iron and rungs?

I guess a ladder could be a bridge if in a room, that is, outside its windows, some are open, some stuck shut, sometimes a window gets painted shut!, there is a view. And if that view is of another room or sturdy tree or next door game. I want to say next door it's not a game.

I'm in a room. Packing or unpacking baggage, closet ajar, catching the sunshine, swatting at bugs. Unless the bugs don't swarm or fly near my face; then it's okay to let some bugs be and that's not the game and dealing with bugs is not my job.

No comments: