Jingle Jangle

[rinue]

Getting out of bed this morning was hard. Just moving took about ten minutes. I'm not generally a lingerer; the alarm goes off (internally or externally), my eyes open, and before long I'm eating breakfast. Today it was hard. Today I woke up and it was cold, and Ciro wasn't there.

I keep feeling like some kind of cosmic payment has taken place, a secret deal between gods. I'm not finding coins anymore; after six weeks of plenty, there are none to be found.

I've been wearing my wool cap daily, to cover my unwashed hair, and because it's raining. The cap is too big for me; I bought it too big so that I could wear it even if my hair were up, which it never is. Instead, the cap rides low over my eyes and makes me think of Stonewall Jackson.

We watched The 3rd Man today, and everyone at the school got the zither theme stuck in their heads. We passed each other in line at the coffee bar, or on the stairs, and sang do-do do, do-do do-do...

I saw my shoulder for the first time in six weeks. It was surprising to realize it had been that long. I know I've been bundled up since I got here, and never fully naked except in the shower; I guess in the shower, I never turned my head to the side. It was in camera class I saw it. The equipment and the crowd made the room hot enough that I stripped to my tank top; I turned to pass back a depth-of-field chart, and there was my shoulder.

I've spent enough time walking from shoe store to shoe store that my feet have toughened up and I no longer need better shoes.

I've been reading a lot of classical poetry, particularly different translations of the beginning of the Aeneid. This one's my favorite.

Comments

[marveloustrick.livejournal.com]

I was sick yesterday and am sick today. I keep bumping into things, like gravity takes some keen joy in harming me. I did not stay in class yesterday, and I missed my first class today.

I feel so tired.

I am consumed by my work. Even sick, I worked for eight hours yesterday, and I will work more today. I keep missing keys on the keyboard.
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The last two nights I have had related dreams:
Two nights ago, the night before I was ill: I am sailing on a river with Charon. With long sticks we prod the banks apart as we travel down the river. We are making the river larger in expectation of more traffic.

Last night: We have traveled the length of the river; our arms burn from exhaustion. Charon's skeletal limbs pulse with fatigue. From the top of a great spire we watch the river as we drink white wine. A shadow forms on the horizon; the river goes black as a wave travels down its whole length. I stand up saying; "Old friend, we must make the river wider."

Charon rises, his eyes locked on the shadow. Aside from standing he does not move.

"Too many travelers must wade this river," I say, "if there is not room then it will become clogged with bodies."

Charon and I walk back the the river, stand on opposite sides, and use our hands to pull the river wider.

My hands are bleeding. "I have always wondered what happened to your skin and muscle." I say to Charon. "Now I know, and I am scared."

Charon speaks, "Your arms will not be like mine."

Then I wake up.
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Perhaps this should have been a post of my own, and not a comment in your journal. I thought that perhaps you would understand.

In case you have ever been curious, Charon has a face, only his arms, as far as I know, are skeletal. The rest is hidden by his robe.

These dreams leave me exhausted. I would hide from them, but they feel important. Besides, I have missed my time with Charon.