excerpt: This Window Makes Me Feel

This window makes me feel like they’re really listening to me, even when they do most of the talking, and it’s a real turn-on. This window makes me feel like I’m handling items in microgravity without changing my orientation. This window makes me feel like I’m not free to say what I want to say. This window makes me feel like I live in the woods. This window makes me feel a bit shaken up—I sleep with the window open, even in winter, with a loaded rifle and a flashlight handy. This window makes me feel like saying, "please, girl, stick it out with me… I feel a change coming over me." This window makes me feel more cocky and powerful when I have a good breakfast—don’t eat anything you can buy from a place with a drive-thru window. This window makes me feel like, I don’t know, it just makes sense to me—it’s just my perspective. This window makes me feel unhip, out-of-touch, old, and I don’t care if they are the latest fashion or on whose runway they were first spotted. This window makes me feel like I wish I could get up on the roof of my apartment building, but there’s a revolving restaurant up there so no way. This window makes me feel like something of a "pure scientist" and, therefore, one of the very people that I often criticize. This window makes me feel like he is explicating her position as a post-linguistic turned Kantian position. This window makes me feel like what happened to me—only a few years ago I was against the old eye for an eye thing. This window makes me feel like you could almost smell the sea. This window makes me feel like this will be the last time you’ll ever hear from me. This window makes me feel like I could climb a castle wall and you could be Repunzel letting your hair down for me. This window makes me feel like no one else thinks about these things. This window makes me feel like there must be a big neon sign on my neck that says come on over here and hit me. This window makes me feel like we could forget about our own agendas and get ready to get sold. This window makes me feel like I don’t know you people, why are you here? This window makes me feel like when I talk badly about their father it’s terrible and it makes me torn apart. This window makes me feel inferior because I don’t have the flashy clothes that the people in this ad have. This window makes me feel joyful because the sky turns from a beautiful light blue to dark blue. This window makes me feel better about losing stuff at home. This window makes me feel worse about myself because I want so much for people to like me for me, yet I am told by my own husband that I act immature and inappropriate at times. This window makes me feel guilty because we’ve had far too much rain this year, and farmers like my mother’s brother are really suffering. This window makes me feel like all of my education is for nothing and I don’t know when I will ever get the right job. This window makes me feel like I am special and loved—when we do nice things for each other we feel happier and want to be together more. This window makes me feel less like a customer and more like a part of the team without talking computereze and without being talked down to. This window makes me feel like I’m a believer in total experience so how do I make peace here? This window makes me feel like the best part of the whole deal is that I don’t have any accidents in my pants like I used to. This window makes me feel like the inside is already a man, and I need to make the outside so. This window makes me feel neglected because he says he doesn’t believe he needs to participate in these manufactured holidays. This window makes me feel even more alone than before with so many people checking up on me lately. This window makes me feel like he is just completely bitter without having any real human feeling behind it. This window makes me feel an admittedly bizarre and psychologically twisted but loving kinship, like we’ve been joined unknowingly for the past decade. This window makes me feel like sometimes I see a guy on TV and compare myself to him. This window makes me feel conspicuous in a way that I hadn’t expected. This window makes me feel like I’m in Disneyland—my checkbook is balanced, the porch is swept, the plants have been watered, and almost all of my clothes have been put away. This window makes me feel better because I know I covered my ass. This window makes me feel sad because it reveals how melancholically beautiful England is, suburbs and all. This window makes me feel like I need to get a larger gold fish bowl or they’re going to keep dying on me. This window makes me feel like I will reach total freedom. This window makes me feel like a heel because I know I am an insecure attention-seeker who has a deep need for total strangers to notice my existence for a very short while. This window makes me feel somewhat better as I can sense that it isn’t just me that seems to be getting less than decent service. This window makes me feel sick, but I have to smile and tell you how happy I am for you. This window makes me feel more successful and more prepared to face my future—something which used to scare me when I thought about it. This window makes me feel slightly depressed because there’s no food in the house. This window makes me feel like we belong some place and it makes me feel like we’ve achieved something. This window makes me feel like I perform better when I frequent the gym and feel that I’m working towards a goal. This window makes me feel engulfed in pride and nostalgia. This window makes me feel like if everyone has an American flag it helps spread the pride. This window makes me feel like I’m having a panic attack where my thoughts are racing and I can’t breathe very well. This window makes me feel a little better about the fact that I don’t have a clue where I’ll be next year. This window makes me feel like I’m looking at mountains even though there aren’t any mountains for miles and miles. This window makes me feel like so normal, like I’m glad I’m not jumping into anything. This window makes me feel better because I didn’t get an upset collections manager in response to the situation. This window makes me feel at peace because I know that love, through me, has helped show a path that makes things easier. This window makes me feel like I just went over the moon, on a rampage, knocking over around ten other clubbers, causing three to lose consciousness. This window makes me feel a little uneasy like he’s capitalizing on the tragedy. This window makes me feel alive as I look up at the skies, take a deep breath, and look at the stars shining bright up there. This window makes me feel like no matter who I am and what I’ve done, I do have a chance. This window makes me feel like everyone around me is giving the two thumbs up sign. This window makes me feel guilty of course, so I don’t indulge in the fantasy for too long. This window makes me feel more in control of what needs to be done, and it makes it easier for me to structure my day. This window makes me feel like the anger’s building because I don’t care what you do anymore, and you obviously don’t care how I feel. This window makes me feel like I’m testing shampoo on a bald man. This window makes me feel like telling someone how much I love his or her product, which is very soothing and effective. This window makes me feel a little bit like each Spring when I find myself coupled with some newfound mate. This window makes me feel like I must be so unimportant to him if he tells me he was busy all day and that he didn’t even have the chance to call me until late at night. This window makes me feel very insecure about my manhood, what with the pink artwork and the fucking unicorn on the front. This window makes me feel like I am in someone’s fantasy. This window makes me feel like I don’t have his full attention and that he’d rather not be talking to me, which is plenty annoying. This window makes me feel more comfortable and relaxed with my surroundings because we treat each other casually by calling everyone by their first names. This window makes me feel like trash and like everyone thinks I’m trashy being big on top and having to look like this. This window makes me feel a lot better because (A) it gives me hope that maybe he will quit soon, and (B) I figure that if they haven’t fired him after all that shit then I don’t know what. This window makes me feel like skipping lunch for the gym.

Since 1992, Robert Fitterman has been writing a long poem titled "Metropolis" of which 3 installments have appeared in book form Metropolis 1-15 (Sun & Moon Press 2000), Metropolis 16-29 (Coach House Press, 2002) and, forthcoming, Metropolis 30: The Decline and Fall Of The Roman Empire (Edge Books). "This Window Makes Me Feel" (a writing project that explores the intersection of subjectivity and appropriation in a post 9/11 context) is his first non-Metropolis book in a decade. He lives in NYC with his wife, poet Kim Rosenfield and their daughter Coco.

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Robert Fitterman

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