{"id":12462,"date":"2015-12-04T06:04:43","date_gmt":"2015-12-04T12:04:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/?p=12462"},"modified":"2015-12-04T06:05:19","modified_gmt":"2015-12-04T12:05:19","slug":"glass-delusion","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/archives\/12462","title":{"rendered":"Glass Delusion"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>For two hundred years people knew they were made of glass<br \/>\nand wouldn&#8217;t sit down on marble or brick, the unyielding<br \/>\nparts of their world. Ask Tchaikovsky or King Charles VI<br \/>\nabout the fear of being touched, looping visions of your head<br \/>\ncracking off, fear of everything that moves. Yesterday I stayed<br \/>\ninside my room when I could, dressed myself in three layers,<br \/>\ndrank hot water and light. I couldn&#8217;t tell you about my body,<br \/>\nhow I kept waiting for flesh to fall off from cold mirror bones,<br \/>\nor how the air felt flat, pressed dry in a book, no water left<br \/>\nto keep the dead away. I couldn&#8217;t think of a way to tell you<br \/>\nhow I&#8217;ve condemned myself for waxing dark, turning outside<br \/>\nmy body, satellite self trying to understand that this bending<br \/>\nfinger is mine, this is a structure I&#8217;ve had for years, red rot<br \/>\nand air. Ask the glass woman who pointed to a hospital window<br \/>\nand said <em>Like that&#8211;I&#8217;m there, and I&#8217;m not there<\/em> to explain<br \/>\nhow the body tries to make itself disappear, how the opening<br \/>\nup and closing shut is in someone else&#8217;s hands, out of control.<\/p>\n<h6><a href=\"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/archives\/12427\">Danielle Weeks<\/a><\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>For two hundred years people knew they were made of glass and wouldn&#8217;t sit down on marble or brick, the unyielding parts of their world. Ask Tchaikovsky or King Charles VI about the fear of being touched, looping visions of your head cracking off, fear of everything that moves. Yesterday I stayed inside my room [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":354,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[46],"tags":[25],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Jypy-3f0","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12462"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/354"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12462"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12462\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12464,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12462\/revisions\/12464"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12462"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12462"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12462"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}