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rejectomorph

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Time Aprils On [Apr. 8th, 2018|09:14 pm]
rejectomorph
Safeway's parking lot is mostly uphill from the store. I never used to have any trouble pushing a full shopping cart up the hill, but lately it's been getting difficult. By the time I get to the car (on a fairly warm day such as this parked in the shady zone at the top of the hill) I find I'm actually getting short of breath. I should have expected this, of course, and did, though I didn't really spend much time thinking about it. Now that it's happening I find that I disapprove, quite strongly. What business do my own lungs have trying to suffocate me? It's an outrage!

Of course the cart was pretty heavy today, what with big bags of cat food and even heavier boxes of kitty litter, and the day having been warmer than expected didn't help. I might have thought to leave my jacket in the car, or at least having failed to do so might have taken it off and draped it over the cart on my way back. But I seldom think of such things when a sudden change comes along and throws my routine for a loop.

Anyway. Other than getting out of breath because the Safeway built its store at the bottom of a hillside, and the fact that I spent about ten dollars more than I'd planned, it was a reasonably successful shopping trip. A few months ago the Mandarin orange sparkling water I buy vanished from Safeway's shelves, and the orange flavored replacement product the company switched to is vile, so I've been intending to check the not-Safeway store to see if they have any of the old stock left. I finally remembered to do so today, and they did! I have to pay full price for it, but I got six half-liter bottles. They should last a while. Of course they'll probably go flat before I use them up, but marketing orphans like me have to take what they can get.

We're still supposed to get rain on Tuesday when I go to the chiropractor, but it is now to be compressed into a few hours from late morning to early afternoon, so I might miss it. There is supposed to be more rain Wednesday and Thursday, now similarly, though less pronouncedly, compressed. There could also be a bit of rain around the beginning of next week,but probably not very much. I'd like to get enough to keep the soil sufficiently damp to make it easy to pull the foxtails up. I 'd really like to be rid of them, for the sake of the feral cats. Foxtails love kitty fur, and, even worse, the insides of kitty ears.

Tomorrow is supposed to be even warmer than today. If I'm going to yank weeds I ought to do it in the morning, before it gets hot. I love spring, even though it can be a pain in the ass. Yes, I'm in an abusive relationship with a season. I'll seek help. Does Medicare cover weather counseling?




Sunday Verse



After 65


by Richard Howard


The tragedy, Colette said, is that one
does not age. Everyone else does, of course
(as Marcel was so shocked to discover),
and upon one's mask odd disfigurements
are imposed; but that garrulous presence
we sometimes call the self, sometimes deny

it exists at all despite its carping
monologue, is the same as when we stole
the pears, spied on mother in the bath, ran
away from home. What has altered is what
Kant called Categories: the shape of time
changes altogether! Days, weeks, months,

and especially years are reassigned.
Famous for her timing, a Broadway wit
told me her "method": asked to do something,
anything, she would acquiesce next year --
"I'll commit suicide, provided it's
next year." But after sixty-five, next year

is now. Hours? there are none, only a few
reckless postponements before it is time...
When was it you "last" saw Jimmy -- last spring?
last winter? That scribbled arbiter
your calendar reveals -- betrays -- the date:
over a year ago. Come again? No

time like the present, endlessly deferred.
Which makes a difference: once upon a time
there was only time (...as the day is long)
between the wanting self and what it wants.
Wanting still, you have no dimension where
fulfillment or frustration can occur.

Of course you have, but you must cease waiting
upon it: simply turn around and look
back. Like Orpheus, like Mrs. Lot, you
will be petrified -- astonished -- to learn
memory is endless, life very long.
and you -- you are immortal after all.

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