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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Drawling Demons
I'm pretty damn tired today as I could not sleep last night, not for anything. A long time insomniac from way back, I know how to deal with such nights--not how to get to sleep, but how to endure, pass a sleepless night--so I ran a bath and climbed in and read in the tub, dipping into both The Confessions of Lady Nijo and Henry James's The Princess Casamassima. Those, being new to me, were too stimulating for in-bed insomnia reading, so I picked up a copy of the collected works of MFK Fisher, whose prose can be as lulling as James at his most...well, James, I guess. I turned out the light for a while to rest my eyes, then, after half an hour or so, turned it back on to read some more. I turned the cooler on and off and on, drank a few glasses of water. I listened to my neighbor's cell phone ringing (it rang every half-hour or so all the hours I was awake, a kind of chirpy ring that wasn't at all jarring). I thought about various things, about various people, about various situations. My period often disturbs my sleep patterns (as does being sick), but it also, too, is often accompanied by this kind of clairvoyancy that I've only come to recognize as such in the last several years--and which I have become more aware of since I began to live alone and have had the time to really learn to listen to myself. Last night was a strange one, sight-wise. The body began clamoring in this not unpleasant way, but clamoring. At first, I mistook it for all the kinds of hunger that it wasn't. But then I realized what it most very likely was. I thought about this for a long time--until I fell asleep, that is. And Now Talk About Mundane Things I have eaten well today. There it is. When the period comes, I try to eat as well as I possibly can, and today, I am succeeding. Oh, I don't mean that I have gone crazy, binged, and called that taking care of myself. No, rather I have focused on feeding myself well and carefully--probably due as much to the words of MFK Fisher as to the need to do it. And now you're wondering what I've eaten? For breakfast, I had a fritatta of zucchini, onions, garlic, and roasted green chile. I had with it pinto beans with salsa. I had cooked pumpkin with syrup as a kind of breakfast desert. I drank sweet, milky coffee through breakfast. Later, I had a midmorning snack of frozen organic fruit--peaches and mixed berries (marrion blueberries, raspberries, blackberries) and organic nonfat yogurt. For lunch, I had a Boca Burger with green chile and sliced yellow tomatoes and mixed baby greens and grainy hot mustard. I piled it all on whole wheat bread and had a plate of crudite with it. Just now, I shared a banana and some pretzels as a snack with Max, and ate a small bit of chocolate. (See? I eat both adequately and well, my little demons. I have to keep my strength up.) Have I Done Anything Besides Eat Today? Well, almost. Today is not a gym day, but there will perhaps be bike riding (only if I can convince Richard that this is a superior plan to my alternative: beer on the patio of the nearest bar with a patio). We'll see. One of Richard's big draws is a quick Texas drawl, so I like talking to him. That's easier done on patio furniture than on a bicycle. I'm supposed to hear from him when he gets off of work this afternoon. I ran a few errands, too, but nothing terribly exciting, so I'll spare you the details. How About A List Though? Why, I'd love to. I am grateful. I am grateful for sleepless nights and for strangers who feed stray cats. I am grateful for MFK Fisher and her firm but understanding suggestions about how to live one's life. I am grateful for a shared bag of pretzels, for a shared bit of food, for a friend to share it with. I am grateful. I am as grateful for a morning badly spent as for a morning well spent. I am grateful. I am grateful and this is how I express my humility. I am grateful, and this is how I express my obedience.
More lies:
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