I am trying to arrange the return of hostages.
The captor had previously written me a ransom note. He gave "no guarantees as to whether or not Stockholm syndrome has set in." He says the captivity is "a pretty nice spot by the window."
I look at his negotiation in fragments:
"there is a chance I could bring"
"I'm happy to hold onto"
"if you'd rather"
"until you're back"
"plans mean I'll see you"
"but have a safe"
A total of five objects have been held hostage for over a year of captivity.
I am trying to calculate the damages.
Not included in the cost of goods lost are:
the time to coordinate our schedules
the secrecy with which the hand-off must occur
the evasion of authorities
his inability to care
my inability to make him care
I had offered the possibility of a compromise or magna carta.
My offer received no reply.
The hostage situation is not in my control.
Surprisingly, with the tact of showing up when least expected, a vague attempt at suggestion was given, a date at which the hand-off might happen.
At last, together: me and my objects.
An object and its extensions, a girl and her material world.
I write this morning to prompt the hand-off.
I am trying to operate a rescue.
Is it still considered desire to want the object that had already been had?
Is the longing of return still victim to the decree for contentment through "want not"?
Perhaps true zen is to know without having had to ever have had at all.
We do not meet.
I fail to rescue the hostages.
"I have already zipped up," is his deflection of me.
At his use of the term "trade back" I respond that this is not a trade.
Return is the opposite of Stockholm syndrome.
"Poor choice of words," is his appeasement of me.
I outline my agenda for the week so that he knows my schedule, so that he may see an opportunity that aligns with both our calendars, so that he may suggest another time to finish this. He does not offer me his own agenda in return.
There is never a return: of hostages, of opinion, of strategy, of negotiation.
Have I taken myself hostage?
It occurs to me that the scaffolding I have built for resolving this situation is constructed around the blueprint of his handling of everything.
What if one desires to want not?
Our bind is defunct but the knot remains unloosened.
A knot is not a collaboration, but a repercussion.
My attempts at rescue are held hostage by his inactive efforts.
The hostages remain in the nice spot by the window.