"blue is the colour of the sky / in the morning, when we rise / in the morning, when we rise"
I have woken up, this morning, in a very good mood. It isn’t one of those mornings when one awakes with a beaming smile and giggle deep down, and positively bolts out of bed with exhilarated glee, darting merrily down the hallways and with a skip to one’s feet and a joyful yelp in one’s throat - but it’s still pretty damned good nonetheless. Instead of having to coax myself gently out of bed murmuring, “Venga, Tórcio; vamos Aitorcito” to myself (in a manner identical to how my dad used to wake me in the mornings before heading off elementary school, I woke up and fairly pep-ily hummed-whistled “Good Morning, Good morning! / We’ve talked the whole the whole night through / Good Morning, Good Morning, To You (and You and You and You)!” as I sleepily rose and headed down the hall and into the kitchen for the making and taking of breakfast.
(This song, too, I kind of adore; I remember liking it when I first heard it in The Rules of Attraction, tho I think I liked it more there because it accompanied these two amazing unbroken shots that eventually lined up in one single frame. ‘urrah, Donovan.)
I’ve been tired, a lot, lately, and moreso than can be really written off as exam fatigue; indeed, I think this past week I may have been down with something, tho I feel substantially better today. I was, however, formerly deeply tired all the time, and on Thursday, despite having had a full-night’s rest, I still felt exhausted enough to cancel my classes and come home to sleep from 4 to 8, only to be exhausted again by midnight and fall asleep until 9 the next morning - when I woke up, again, feeling none-too-refreshed. That, combined with a curious ear-ache makes me wonder if I haven’t been besieged by something that I’ve been too busy to accurately diagnose these past days (tho I’m feeling better today so, bah, no bother).
It’s been damned rainy in Madrid for the past week, but it’s been a great rain, the sort that I love: hard, fierce, practically tropical. And it hasn’t been any colder, so the rain has been accompanied by thunder and lightning (hurrah!) and the weather has been quite Miami-ish, which has only really reminded me of the home-territories and made me admittedly all the more excited about eventually heading back. For the record, m’lords, I’ll be finalizing those travel details next Tuesday; I announce it here so as to save any trouble changing dates later on, and thus provide ample time for my colonial ministers to come up with some brilliant excuses for why they might be bailing on my this summer (you are staying single this summer, right Robin?) or in case any of my other diplomatic ties might feel obliged to pen some lovely dispatches with confusing metaphors and the like.
Not that any of those things would conceivably be expected, of course.
(“Surely not!”)
(“Never!”)
(“Poppycock, sir!”)
Predictability aside, tho, and despite the fact that, after visions and revisions and several consular meetings and deferments to the wisdom of the Prime Minister on the matter; despite the fact that a multitude of reasons have ultimately compelled us to take the capital of the Home-Territories as our official residence for the summer - despite all those things, I daresay I do hope for some assurances that I shan’t be left lacking entertainments during my stay. After all, as picturesque as they are, palm trees and coconuts alone don’t make for much company (tho the coconuts, atleast, do make for some splendid pony impersonations).
Yesterday, in effect, was pretty damned great, in that the first half of the day was, essentially, basically perfectly conforming to how my ideas of a perfect while go about. Claire and I met up on campus (with me arriving some 15 minutes late, as is the norm) for some coffee and discussion, followed by film-watching in the cinemathéque, followed by lunch and beer and more discussion and walking and discussion and walking and discussion and walking and discussion - kind of one of those long, drawn out, extremely thoughtful, epic walking-fests, of the sort I so often had with Maddy over the summer, as well as with Ali and etc. I enjoy walking and talking, and having conversations that reflectively move kind of at the slow pace of a Robert Altman pan across a room - kind of gliding with subdued grace, floating a bit, even, constantly moving. It was like that, airy, theoretical, about romance and intimacy and the concepts of masculinity and femininity and hierarchical estaments within the subculture of homosexuality, and people who act flamboyantly gay and those who do not and how they related, and upbringing and using literary allusions to describe attitudes towards women, and etc. And the great thing is that it was one of these conversations that did not stop, and instead had a gradually changing backdrop, an atmosphere that was first over beers in the cafeteria, but then up through the stairways and corridors, and then out in the soft rain, up the hill, into philosophy, out of philosophy, back down the hill, across streets and lanes, through the park and out again. And that was all lovely, and shall hopefully be repeated this evening when we go the movies and hang out afterwards again and hurrah.
And I’d write more but I’m due in the eastern hinterlands for lessons in a bit, and I do think I’d fancy walking out to the tain-station instead of taking the Metro, so I’ll conclude this now.
Happy days, children.