Reset Fifty, Day Three
Jul. 14th, 2024 04:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphI toyed with the idea of going back to bed a while ago, but that would just complicate things. I've been up since about two, after lying abed an hour too hot to get back to my Saturday evening nap. I'm not sure how I got through Saturday itself without bursting into flames. I had some adobo sauce on polenta for dinner, with a green salad, but really only enjoyed the cold bottle of Guinness I washed it down with.
I still didn't get out to do laundry, and when I went to take a shower I realized that the two giant bottles of water my nephew lent me when the plumbing crisis first hit were now sitting in the tub, leaving no room for showering, and I didn't want to deal with removing them heavy damned things. Later it dawned on me that I could have emptied them out to lighten them, but by then the mood for showering had passed. Things out of the ordinary always make my brain malfunction. I mean worse than usual. Maybe the nephew will come fetch his bottles today and I can shower tonight or tomorrow.
Anyway, we get a very few days of less torrid weather, so I might not crack up altogether just yet. Right now I've got the fan going and the open windows are admitting a bit of fresh air that is almost cool. It's supposed to get down to 75 outside before it starts climbing again, so I might be able to get it down to 77 indoors. That would probably let me get back to sleep. We're supposed to get a couple of nights with lows in the sixties this week, and I'm looking forward to being cool enough to not hope to be swiftly murdered in my sleep. Then its back to this crap again, for gods know how long. Serial killers please take note. Let me know when you're available and I can leave the door unlocked.
Sunday Verse
by Miguel de Unamuno
The snowfall is so silent,
so slow,
bit by bit, with delicacy
it settles down on the earth
and covers over the fields.
The silent snow comes down
white and weightless;
snowfall makes no noise,
falls as forgetting falls,
flake after flake.
It covers the fields gently
while frost attacks them
with its sudden flashes of white;
covers everything with its pure
and silent covering;
not one thing on the ground
anywhere escapes it.
And wherever it falls it stays,
content and gay,
for snow does not slip off
as rain does,
but it stays and sinks in.
The flakes are skyflowers,
pale lilies from the clouds,
that wither on earth.
They come down blossoming
but then so quickly
they are gone;
they bloom only on the peak,
above the mountains,
and make the earth feel heavier
when they die inside.
Snow, delicate snow,
that falls with such lightness
on the head,
on the feelings,
come and cover over the sadness
that lies always in my reason.
—translated by Robert Bly
I still didn't get out to do laundry, and when I went to take a shower I realized that the two giant bottles of water my nephew lent me when the plumbing crisis first hit were now sitting in the tub, leaving no room for showering, and I didn't want to deal with removing them heavy damned things. Later it dawned on me that I could have emptied them out to lighten them, but by then the mood for showering had passed. Things out of the ordinary always make my brain malfunction. I mean worse than usual. Maybe the nephew will come fetch his bottles today and I can shower tonight or tomorrow.
Anyway, we get a very few days of less torrid weather, so I might not crack up altogether just yet. Right now I've got the fan going and the open windows are admitting a bit of fresh air that is almost cool. It's supposed to get down to 75 outside before it starts climbing again, so I might be able to get it down to 77 indoors. That would probably let me get back to sleep. We're supposed to get a couple of nights with lows in the sixties this week, and I'm looking forward to being cool enough to not hope to be swiftly murdered in my sleep. Then its back to this crap again, for gods know how long. Serial killers please take note. Let me know when you're available and I can leave the door unlocked.
Sunday Verse
The Snowfall Is So Silent
by Miguel de Unamuno
The snowfall is so silent,
so slow,
bit by bit, with delicacy
it settles down on the earth
and covers over the fields.
The silent snow comes down
white and weightless;
snowfall makes no noise,
falls as forgetting falls,
flake after flake.
It covers the fields gently
while frost attacks them
with its sudden flashes of white;
covers everything with its pure
and silent covering;
not one thing on the ground
anywhere escapes it.
And wherever it falls it stays,
content and gay,
for snow does not slip off
as rain does,
but it stays and sinks in.
The flakes are skyflowers,
pale lilies from the clouds,
that wither on earth.
They come down blossoming
but then so quickly
they are gone;
they bloom only on the peak,
above the mountains,
and make the earth feel heavier
when they die inside.
Snow, delicate snow,
that falls with such lightness
on the head,
on the feelings,
come and cover over the sadness
that lies always in my reason.
