rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

Still Undemented, More or Less

Braving the dangerous sunlight and fresh air, I went to the stores this afternoon and bought much more than I'd intended. It's a good thing I skipped a couple of things that were on my list because the things I bought that weren't on the list added up to quite a bit. There were pluots and a small watermelon, a 12-pack of Anchor Steam Beer, three packages of Quaker granola bars (though not my two favorites, neither of which were on sale,) a big bag of grated cheddar (even though I still have a nearly-full bag, the new one was dated October 10 and was really cheap so I figured it would keep,) a three-pound container of potato salad (which is far from a necessity, and was only slightly discounted, but summertime potato salad impulse is strong) and several other items.

I decided not to get the ice cream bargain they had because it would have required buying four things, and when it's hot the risk of a power outage makes stocking up on very much frozen stuff a bad idea. I totally forgot to put tea on my list, though, and I've been going through tea fast (iced, of course) and might run out before the end of this week. On the other hand, it wasn't on sale anywhere, and maybe it will be next week, so it might work out for the best.

The clouds have been keeping their distance today. There are huge thunderheads over the mountains, but those ar some distance off. There have also been streaks of cloud hovering over the valley, and those appear to be headed this way. I'd rather they didn't linger, as it's been so long since we've had a really cool night here and the clouds would prevent us from having one again tonight. Without them it might get down into the high sixties and I could finally open the windows and have that air conditioner turned off for a few hours. The fan would still have to be on, of course, but the fan is nowhere near as noisy as the compressor, and its noise would be a small price to pay for a few hours not obsessing about the heat.

This morning I got all the pent-up laundry done, including the bathroom window curtains, which were getting quite grubby due to Portia's fondness for sitting in that particular window. They are now fairly white, though the washing machine was of course unable to do anything about the little rips the cat has put in them while pushing them aside with her claws. There aren't many washings left in the poor things, and I suppose I ought to be casting about for replacements of some sort.

I'm definitely ready for my Tuesday appointment with the chiropractor. A couple of times today while pushing the shopping cart about and lifting things I had the feeling that something in my neck was about to go out of joint. It's always best to get those things dealt with before they happen. I hope Tuesday will be soon enough.

Sunday Verse

Fifteen Boys

by Bella Akhmadulina

Fifteen boys and, maybe, more,
or fewer than fifteen, maybe,
said to me
in frightened voices:
"Let's go to a movie or the Museum of Fine Arts."
I answered them more or less like this:
"I haven't time."
Fifteen boys presented me with snowdrops.
Fifteen boys in broken voices
said to me:
"I'll never stop loving you."
I answered them more or less like this:
"We'll see."

Fifteen boys are now living a quiet life.
They have done their heavy chores
of snowdrops, despair and writing letters.
Girls love them—
some more beautiful than me,

others less beautiful.
Fifteen boys with a show of freedom, and at times spite
salute me when we meet,
salute in me, when we meet,
their liberation, normal sleep and regular meals.

In vain you come to me, last boy.
I shall place your snowdrops in a glass of water,
and silver bubbles will cover
their stocky stems . . .
But, you see, you too will cease to love me,
and, mastering yourself, you'll talk in a superior way,
as though you'd mastered me,
and I'll walk off down the street, down the street . . .

–translated by George Reavey

For those interested in Bella Akhmadulina, a couple of versions (one as originally published in an English translation, and the other with two quatrains missing from that version restored) of her poem "Along this street of mine" can be found on this web page along with an interesting essay by Alexander Anichkin.

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