|A lily from down the street.|
Yeah. It is 12:47 a.m. and I am still roaring. Or really just addictively listening to the lectures for the second part of The History of Rock. I need to stop and go to bed. Or I should be reading the damn Brothers K. (Two days left, 85 pages to get to the Kermit Place Reader agreed-upon stopping place.) Okay, I am stopping after this lecture. Tomorrow, punk!
And by the way, I did NOT fail the first part of this course, notwithstanding the fact that I missed a quiz, 25% of the final grade. I passed by one point. And saved face amongst my friends and peers.
|Cooder's paws, no claws presented.|
Earlier, but the next night.
I was up pretty darn late. And I did sleep in a bit. However, Cooder was with me and that makes nearly for a special occasion. And it wasn't stupid hot. All these things combined did not entice me to jump out of bed in a carpe diem frame of mind.
But I got through the day.
It is that beautiful, magical time of a summer night. Almost cool. Intermittent fireflies. But I need to climb into bed so that I can get up in the morning and try to get to the city to have lunch with W and one of the Bs. And I am almost where I supposed to be with The Brothers Karamazov.
I can't say that it is not hard for me these last few days. Tonight, I used my best knife and cut myself. Hmm ... was I so spacey it was a bad choice to begin with. The knife was very sharp and I barely grazed myself. And I consider myself fortunate that I don't cut myself very often (I do try to be careful). Not to worry. I was right by the sink, cleaned it out in a jiff, found some a band-aid easily, and was back to work in no time ... and I was not all that far along in dinner prep.
Sigh. That's what I am doing now. The dumps. That's where I am. Sighing in the dumps on a beautiful summer night.
|Our first calla lily.|