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rejectomorphMore than nine hours abed Saturday night, though much of it not asleep, and waking from odd little naps with dreams of being a sailor aboard a ship at sea without a known destination. Symbolically realistic dreams, in other words. I kept feeling very sad, and chuckling about it. Telling myself "dude, pick a mood and stick with it" which would bring me close to a guffaw, which I took to be the choice, which, of course, made me sad. Finally when waking once thinking "there's no way I can win this one" and getting up so I could at least have a donut. It was a powered donut. I enjoyed it. So here I am. Again. But where the hell is here?
Sunday Verse
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Nights were not made for the crowds, and they sever
You from your neighbor, so you shall never
Seek him, defiantly, at night.
But if you make your dark house light,
To look on strangers in your room,
You must reflect — on whom.
False lights that on men's faces play
Distort them gruesomely.
You look upon a disarray,
A world that seems to reel and sway,
A waving, glittering sea.
On their foreheads gleams a yellow shine
Where thoughts are chased away.
Their glances flicker mad from wine
And to the words they say
Strange heavy gestures make reply,
That struggle in the buzzing room;
And they say always, "I" and "I";
And mean — they know not whom.
Sunday Verse
People At Night
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Nights were not made for the crowds, and they sever
You from your neighbor, so you shall never
Seek him, defiantly, at night.
But if you make your dark house light,
To look on strangers in your room,
You must reflect — on whom.
False lights that on men's faces play
Distort them gruesomely.
You look upon a disarray,
A world that seems to reel and sway,
A waving, glittering sea.
On their foreheads gleams a yellow shine
Where thoughts are chased away.
Their glances flicker mad from wine
And to the words they say
Strange heavy gestures make reply,
That struggle in the buzzing room;
And they say always, "I" and "I";
And mean — they know not whom.
