04 November 2016

Hello active world out there. I pushed this week in front of me like a sack of rotten potatoes. Last night I was so fucking tired I couldn't sleep, too exhausted to relax I just hung in there waiting for someone to come and knock me over the head or something. I know. drama queen. Anyway, nobody came. Just the usual banging noises from the fridge and R gently snoring.
Accordingly and following the developing pattern of slothfulness, I skipped this morning's Qi Gong with the Muslim women and instead nursed several cups of tea while gazing into the far distance for a few hours until my father phoned to list all his many many exciting plans for the weekend. I just let him talk on and on until the interference from his hearing aids became too loud. He only wears them for show, he has never been interested in listening.
Plus, it's almost freezing outside and while cycling to work is exhilarating what with all the colourful leaves and stuff, the thrill of cycling back home through the lonely dark forest is rapidly decreasing (do thrills decrease?). Also, once again I have come to realise that there is no such thing as windproof, chill-proof cycling gloves. They simply haven't been invented. Last night, I briefly considered immersing my hands into a dead horse in true Revenant style but this plan was abandoned due to lack of horse.
So there, life goes on. This is November, not July.
I shall finish this cup of coffee and go to work, I may even discover some purpose along the way.


Colette said...

Good one. I especially enjoyed the paragraph about talking to your father on the phone. When my parents were still alive I would periodically telephone "home" to talk to my mom. If my father answered the phone I would hang up. Not out of anger, but out of a deep-seated desire to survive this life intact. Don't worry, this was in the mid-90's before everyone had the technological ability to identify callers. He never knew it was me. I'm almost sure of it.

molly said...

I know this was not intended as comedy -- but you made me laugh just the same. Desperation. We all have a nodding aquaintance with it. Your salvation is that you can be flippant about it. Besides, you've thrown light on a mystery for me. My f-i-l spent a lot of money on hearing aids. It puzzled me why he never wore them. Your explanation was deadly accurate! And "abandoned for lack of a horse..."? Love it. I hope you found that purpose along the way. It could be as simple as the empathy your readers feel with what you write.

Ms. Moon said...

Some days are just like this. And to everything there is a season...
This may be the season to stay in and warm and cozy. And not get so exhausted that you can't sleep!

liv said...

It's such a drag not to be able to sleep, really hope that clears out for you. Parents are a double edged sword, so you get license to react however you want.

Here's some hope for the gloves...my daughter has come up with an invention that she is investigating into....gloves with a mylar lining between the layers. Maybe we can send you a sample prototype. :)

am said...

What would we do if we couldn't write? And read? I've been reading Theodore Roethke at the prompting of my friend who is on a kidney transplant waiting list. Not much time for writing. Sending love to you. Easier to look at that lovely lane than to feel the cold through gloves.

The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

Elizabeth said...

I love the way you write. And your conversation with your father made me giggle -- I have similar ones with my mother, sans ear aids. She can go on and on about her new slipcovers for literally hours.

Anonymous said...

Winter approaches so quickly now. I keep watching the sunrises and sunsets, and counting the days to Solstice. I'm already awaiting the return of the sun, and it hasn't even fully said goodbye yet. Soon your bike ride home will be sunlit and warm. It's the one thing I trust about the times we are living in, the earth revolves as we expect. All else is up for grabs.

Zhoen said...

You have my complete compassion. Melatonin gets me through, sometimes, not always.

Nice thing about people who don't listen, you never have to talk to them.

Wishing you warm hands, and lots of REM.

Steve Reed said...

"Lack of horse" -- LOL!

Elsewhere said...

"I just let him talk on and on until the interference from his hearing aids became too loud. He only wears them for show, he has never been interested in listening."


Elsewhere said...

about the bike mittens: