revivification (however brief)
I've been shying away from putting any words into traceable sequence. It's probably laziness or a low-hissing expiration of a light-bulb--these days have been full of sleep. On other days, I want them to be like this last weekend: my fill of rest, sunny strolls and mighty heights.
Damn the weathermen who insisted each debunked day that the next was to be grey and worthless for a drive to San Simeon or that gem of a Thai place in Monterey. We walked by the bay, it's true, and chatted up fishermen (one of whom caught a crab) and took boring pictures. Today was an easy day at school. Lunch with A and then some putzing around looking for appointments and then a mechanical hour at the library.
Current preoccupation has been stemming the appetite for movies (affordable escapes to celluloid shores to be sure) by feeding it numbly. But I must say "The Maltese Falcon" was near perfect (minus that period-breathy delivery of the troubled dame and also the unreal dialogue timing of Mr. Bogarts when he's supposedly in a conversation over the phone--they couldn't wait for or probably couldn't hear the later-dubbed, corresponding lines). Hollywood, fish out this sleek, mean-hitting thing and weep.
Job talk candidates come and go on the earliest flights. I am told to watch and learn, and ask that first question after they catch their breath. I really wouldn't mind it if someone else could take over the pitch for a while.
And tomorrow, it's kwality time with those sinophone kids, lunch with J, seminar with 2200 year old heroes who sing to their swords, and a cold bike ride home--how I should think of that chilly west wind and lean horse!
My hands are wrinkled as an R. Crumb rendering of the world's scariest waitresses with the bullnecks and hammy legs--a result of scrubbing the stubbornly blackened metal plates beneath our stove coil. I am getting vain in my old age.
This weekend, maybe Tahoe, if the weathermen are wrong in the right way.
Damn the weathermen who insisted each debunked day that the next was to be grey and worthless for a drive to San Simeon or that gem of a Thai place in Monterey. We walked by the bay, it's true, and chatted up fishermen (one of whom caught a crab) and took boring pictures. Today was an easy day at school. Lunch with A and then some putzing around looking for appointments and then a mechanical hour at the library.
Current preoccupation has been stemming the appetite for movies (affordable escapes to celluloid shores to be sure) by feeding it numbly. But I must say "The Maltese Falcon" was near perfect (minus that period-breathy delivery of the troubled dame and also the unreal dialogue timing of Mr. Bogarts when he's supposedly in a conversation over the phone--they couldn't wait for or probably couldn't hear the later-dubbed, corresponding lines). Hollywood, fish out this sleek, mean-hitting thing and weep.
Job talk candidates come and go on the earliest flights. I am told to watch and learn, and ask that first question after they catch their breath. I really wouldn't mind it if someone else could take over the pitch for a while.
And tomorrow, it's kwality time with those sinophone kids, lunch with J, seminar with 2200 year old heroes who sing to their swords, and a cold bike ride home--how I should think of that chilly west wind and lean horse!
My hands are wrinkled as an R. Crumb rendering of the world's scariest waitresses with the bullnecks and hammy legs--a result of scrubbing the stubbornly blackened metal plates beneath our stove coil. I am getting vain in my old age.
This weekend, maybe Tahoe, if the weathermen are wrong in the right way.
posted by greenyew at 9:23 PM
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