March 12th, 2004

caillebotte_man at his window

Need More Sleep

Orion dips his foot behind the trees well before midnight, now. Soon, he will be gone from the night sky until late in the year. I like knowing that he'll still exist, though, a lurker invisible in broad daylight. I don't think it has been Orion's presence which has kept the deer away of late, but they haven't visited this street for quite a while, or I've missed them by not being out at the right times. I was hoping that the warmer weather and the tasty new flowers would bring them. They have not been tempted, it seems. There is probably some sort of deer party to which I've not been invited going on in the forest night after night. I never get to go anywhere.

I've been trying to go to the web site of The Museum of Bad Art, for example, but only their front page is available. Maybe they were farked. I've also been trying to get to town to have my head partially de-haired, too, but things don't work out. I keep thinking that spiders are crawling on my neck, because that curl of excess hair is tickling it. There are other places to which I would like to go, as well, but I'd gladly pass up the chance for any of them if I could only get an invitation to that deer party. I probably won't, though, so I'll just have to wait until the deer party comes to me. I need to put out some snacks, I think.

It became somewhat cooler tonight, and I wore a jacket when I went outside. The winds which lately played the trees have died down, as well, replaced by a vague inconstant whispers of breeze. The quiet clarity opens the night to distant sounds, and I hear dogs bark, and night birds cry, and cars running down distant roads. The diminished moon brought its pale light only when night was half gone, and it revealed little detail, the absence of which intensified the power of sound. I was struck by a certain fact, so obvious that I've never paid it much attention: Light becomes louder by its abundance, while sound becomes brighter when there is less of it. Tonight, light and sound have conspired to make it abundantly clear that my brain is suffering from insufficient sleep. Too late now to make an early night of it, I will nevertheless make it as early as I can.
caillebotte_man at his window

Falls Away

Evening sunlight reveals patches of spider silk crazing a corner of the window glass. I then notice other strands, breeze-blown like thin banners streaming from the mulberry tree's green buds. For a few moments, balmy day glitters in a silver net, then escapes as the trees conceal the sun and cast their dimming shadows farther east. Earth turns and removes the day. Soon, Venus gleams alone on cobalt velvet until deeper darkness induces the lesser stars to reveal themselves, and other windows glow along the street. But my window has lost its magic. It has become mere dark glass, reflecting a murky version of my ordinary room. I know the silk remains, but I regret the loss of that transient light which briefly made it strange and wonderful.