rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

Reset Thirty-Four, Day Eighteen

Taking a long time to get to sleep Saturday morning and sleeping fitfully, my brain filled up with strange thoughts that soon vanished, leaving no memory other than the fact of their passing and their surpassing weirdness. The natural sun and shadow clock that overtakes the window blinds this time of year let me know each time I woke that the day was wearing on, the light rising higher as the sun descended and the telltale shadow sliding toward the end of the window from which it eventually vanishes. I looked at the phone clock once, and it was one o'clock in the afternoon. A good time to get up, I thought, but still being too tired went back to sleep, thinking I should be done by two o'clock. But when I finally woke completely it was going on five.

An evening then passed, during which I managed to fix some food and wash some dishes and not much else other than Internet. The air conditioner hasn't come on for hours now, and the apartment is still a comfortable temperature. It has grown chilly outdoors. None of it feels quite real. When I woke up the word "hats" came into my head. I thought it might be the residue of a last, forgotten dream. It kept returning, and I finally gave it some thought and the only thing I could think of was the album of that name by The Blue Nile, which featured the song "The Downtown Lights", so I loaded the YouTube video of it onto a browser tab and have been listening to it off and on ever since. I find that it suits my mood quite well.

There was a faint hint of smoke in the air last time I went outside— a reminder that much of the state is still in flames, though that has become so normal that it rarely crosses my mind anymore. How odd that catastrophe should become simply the way things are. I sniff the air, smell the reminder, than go back in and listen to The Blue Nile again. Hats. A good album.

Sunday Verse


by Andrew Zawacki

You say wind is only wind
& carries nothing nervous
in its teeth.
     I do not believe it.

I have seen leaves desist
              from moving
although the branches
           move, & I
believe a cyclone has secrets
the weather is ignorant of.
               I believe
in the violence of not knowing.

I've seen a river lose its course
& join itself again,
           watched it court
a stream & coax the stream
into its current,

         & I have seen
rivers, not unlike
          you, that failed to find
their way back.

           I believe the rapport
between water & sand, the advent
from mirror to face.

         I believe in rain
to cover what mourns,
           in hail that revives
& sleet that erodes, believe
whatever falls
    is a figure of rain

& now I believe in torrents that take
everything down with them.

The sky calls it quits,
              or so I believe,
when air, or earth, or air
has had enough.

        I believe in disquiet,
the pressure it plies, believe a cloud
to govern the limits of night.

              I say I,
but little is left to say it, much less
mean it—
      & yet I do.

           Let there be
no mistake:
    I do not believe
things are reborn in fire.
They're consumed by fire

& the fire has a life of its own.


  • Reset Thirty-Six, Day Two

    After waking up before noon Thursday, then needing to sleep again not long after sunset, I finally woke up about two o'clock this morning and got the…

  • Reset Thirty-Six, Day One

    More sleeping took place on Wednesday, and there might have been dreams, and there was certainly waking up by day and by night and feeling displaced.…

  • Day Out

    Another shopping trip Tuesday, but this one even more exhausting than the last. I don't seem to be able to deal with this crap anymore, especially…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.