RAISING NO SONG

 56 of #100daychallenge

At least I started this on Tuesday morning, if starting is opening a new document and putting in the date.

I've no idea where I began this morning, at least internally, spiritually. I think there were a couple of bad mental soundtrack songs that I would have to work right now to unpleasantly remember. I think it was hot, even in the morning. Everything rather went accordingly to normal, except that Janet took less prodding. Yet somehow I ended up quite proximate to that old grump stump.

I think it is the heat. Everything feels at a nose-wrinkling odiousness. It was muggy enough to feel unclear and vaguely sticky. Still feels that way at 12:30 a.m. with the house on window lockdown. 

I am relaxing rather too much. After many years of non-participation, I started a needlepoint project. I did rather a lot of that for a few years back in my 20s. I find it quite addictive and hypnotic, good for watching tv and avoiding making any sort of progress on any worthwhile projects. I love the colors of the thread. Is it like painting, to chose and mix colors? I will post a snap of a work in progress when a bit more is done.

The hot weather made me worry about over-exerting the Domineers at yoga today. Even at 11:00, it was uncomfortable to move much. Teaching today was more of a challenge than the usual, as I didn't want anyone keeling over from trying to stand up too many times. And my head wasn't thoroughly there for awhile, having left some of it on the grump stump.

My needlework kept me from making further progress in Ulysses. It's hard to be disciplined in uncomfortable weather. I think that is a truth universally acknowledged.

THE END OF THE PARADE

The sentence undulates,

raising no song;

it is too old, the

words of it are falling

apart. Only percussion

notes continue

with weakening

emphasis what was once

all honeyed sounds

full of sweet breath.

— William Carlos Williams, The New Yorker Book of Poems, Viking Press, New York, 1969