mundane: observations and habits.
in the last few days the weather has been wonderful. i've walked back and forth from campus, and i was not afraid of the wind. from what people tell me, winter wind here is nothing compared to the boston wind, but "wind chill" is a fearsome word, for anyone who knows.
i even walked home from border's books and music last night around eleven, and outside it was chilly but still pleasant.
i've brought josephine back into action today. i rode to trader joe's and bought many dry edibles and sundries. coming back, i realised a great opportunity.
i changed into carpenter shorts, then walked to that vegetable mecca, the Produce Station, for fresh fruits and such foods.
fantastic. some people still wore their thick winter coats, especially families with children, but they kept their strange looks to themselves.
i wrote this in my handwritten journal yesterday.
when i was running this afternoon, other people -- walkers and hikers on the trail -- they would stand aside and let me pass. i don't think they were being so selflessly kind, but i thanked them anyway, each time.
you see, it's been above freezing lately: two days at 38 degrees F. sunny skies are alchemists: they have turned once unruly snow and frozen earth into puddle-pools and slush, covering mud.
so the hikers could hear me, yards away, from the sporadic sounds of splatter and splash.
* * *
in the end my socks were soaked cold and my toes were numb. my legs and the fingers of one hand turned brown, drying grey: mud. at one point i had nearly fallen after a downhill and a stumble, and for an instant i thought of oedipus:
four feet, then two feet, then three feet.
it wasn't quite a cane, but what is a cane but the extension of an arm? a cane is able as long as the arm remains able, and for that instant my arm was my cane.
then i rose up, stained, mistaken, oedipus forgotten.
instead i thought of three ellipses, sharing boundaries, and upon them
the invisible, confusing steps of young men and women,
entertaining only thoughts of fitness,
but appearing much like hamsters and their wheels.
i thought of gears spinning, levers and torque,
powered by straining muscles, groaning bodies,
with eyes who glance photos,
and fingers who turn the pages of magazines.
so much effort, yet the machine hardly moves.
then i looked around, and around me was some version of wilderness made tame. there were no wild things among the trees.
no wild things here,
except me.
so i smiled, flexing caked fingers, and loped away to civilisation.
i even walked home from border's books and music last night around eleven, and outside it was chilly but still pleasant.
i've brought josephine back into action today. i rode to trader joe's and bought many dry edibles and sundries. coming back, i realised a great opportunity.
i changed into carpenter shorts, then walked to that vegetable mecca, the Produce Station, for fresh fruits and such foods.
fantastic. some people still wore their thick winter coats, especially families with children, but they kept their strange looks to themselves.
i wrote this in my handwritten journal yesterday.
when i was running this afternoon, other people -- walkers and hikers on the trail -- they would stand aside and let me pass. i don't think they were being so selflessly kind, but i thanked them anyway, each time.
you see, it's been above freezing lately: two days at 38 degrees F. sunny skies are alchemists: they have turned once unruly snow and frozen earth into puddle-pools and slush, covering mud.
so the hikers could hear me, yards away, from the sporadic sounds of splatter and splash.
* * *
in the end my socks were soaked cold and my toes were numb. my legs and the fingers of one hand turned brown, drying grey: mud. at one point i had nearly fallen after a downhill and a stumble, and for an instant i thought of oedipus:
four feet, then two feet, then three feet.
it wasn't quite a cane, but what is a cane but the extension of an arm? a cane is able as long as the arm remains able, and for that instant my arm was my cane.
then i rose up, stained, mistaken, oedipus forgotten.
instead i thought of three ellipses, sharing boundaries, and upon them
the invisible, confusing steps of young men and women,
entertaining only thoughts of fitness,
but appearing much like hamsters and their wheels.
i thought of gears spinning, levers and torque,
powered by straining muscles, groaning bodies,
with eyes who glance photos,
and fingers who turn the pages of magazines.
so much effort, yet the machine hardly moves.
then i looked around, and around me was some version of wilderness made tame. there were no wild things among the trees.
no wild things here,
except me.
so i smiled, flexing caked fingers, and loped away to civilisation.