(no subject)
Given time I could get tired of all this sleeping
The days I’ve thrown away
And the hours that I am keeping
But for a while I’m fairly happy feeling hopeless
A somersault in a winter coat
I didn’t notice a thing
These last few days I’ve been sleeping exorbitantly, collapsing into endless strings of naps that are probably entirely unnecessary- but I’m indulging myself, having now completed all the history papers I will ever have to write, assuming I decide to drop out of school after this semester, and support myself by trafficking cocaine or engaging in sundry alternative illegalities. Hours seated awkwardly before the computer, concentrating upon intensive last minute labors on my most recent research assignment appear to have left me crippled by the (temporary?) return of an old knee injury, and a renewed inability to get the graphic details of Hitler’s various atrocities out of my mind.
In fact, so twisted are my sleep cycles due to Thai Red Bull*, and my own personal irresponsibility, that I was recently forced to sit down, with paper, pencil, and a calculator, simply in order to determine whether I ought be tired at that particular moment.
So, yeah- Friday afternoon I elected to finally watch Requiem for a Dream, instead of potentially occupying myself with more productive, even potentially scholastic, activities. Upon finishing the movie I was (rather predictably) left in a surreal, disconnected, and sort of exquisitely horror-struck state of mind. I also had about an hour and a half to appear across town, neatly attired and bearing wine, for my Very First Dinner Party. The very prospect of applying lipstick left me with vivid Jennifer Connelly flashbacks, and besides listening to The Smiths in order to temporarily sustain my oddly pleasant disassociated mood, I could think of nothing likely to bring me back to a contented and people- friendly reality.
So, again rather predictably, I slept. Having drifted off while reading The Plague, and with a carton of strawberries left open on the kitchen counter, I suppose it was nearly inevitable that I immediately dreamed of Aschenbach, Thomas Mann intersecting distressingly with the most powerfully graphic bits of Requiem. I awoke with a jolt, and dressed rapidly in my unlit room, applying careful coats of mascara while thinking sour thoughts about humanity.
Standing in the rain on my doorstep I fumbled with my umbrella and walkman, determined to only play “Mad World” the whole walk, in a dogged and ill- advised attempt to feed my constructed moodiness. When Outkast came on instead I reached to juggle purses and wine-bags to reject such overt, tiresome happiness. But I was 10 minutes away from having to display an attempt at social skills, and converse light-heartedly with people who wouldn’t know me well enough to humor my absurdities. So I listened to “Hey Ya” and stomped in puddles and within seconds had transitioned almost entirely back to a resilient normalcy. The dinner party was good.
P.S. I intend a Real Update at some indeterminate point in the future, when I am not so lethargic. Really I do!
*= now with more caffeine! Also, contained in alluringly medicinal bottles, allowing one to consume one’s stimulants while imagining that one is administering a necessary remedy for a clearly diagnosed and certifiable ailment.
The days I’ve thrown away
And the hours that I am keeping
But for a while I’m fairly happy feeling hopeless
A somersault in a winter coat
I didn’t notice a thing
These last few days I’ve been sleeping exorbitantly, collapsing into endless strings of naps that are probably entirely unnecessary- but I’m indulging myself, having now completed all the history papers I will ever have to write, assuming I decide to drop out of school after this semester, and support myself by trafficking cocaine or engaging in sundry alternative illegalities. Hours seated awkwardly before the computer, concentrating upon intensive last minute labors on my most recent research assignment appear to have left me crippled by the (temporary?) return of an old knee injury, and a renewed inability to get the graphic details of Hitler’s various atrocities out of my mind.
In fact, so twisted are my sleep cycles due to Thai Red Bull*, and my own personal irresponsibility, that I was recently forced to sit down, with paper, pencil, and a calculator, simply in order to determine whether I ought be tired at that particular moment.
So, yeah- Friday afternoon I elected to finally watch Requiem for a Dream, instead of potentially occupying myself with more productive, even potentially scholastic, activities. Upon finishing the movie I was (rather predictably) left in a surreal, disconnected, and sort of exquisitely horror-struck state of mind. I also had about an hour and a half to appear across town, neatly attired and bearing wine, for my Very First Dinner Party. The very prospect of applying lipstick left me with vivid Jennifer Connelly flashbacks, and besides listening to The Smiths in order to temporarily sustain my oddly pleasant disassociated mood, I could think of nothing likely to bring me back to a contented and people- friendly reality.
So, again rather predictably, I slept. Having drifted off while reading The Plague, and with a carton of strawberries left open on the kitchen counter, I suppose it was nearly inevitable that I immediately dreamed of Aschenbach, Thomas Mann intersecting distressingly with the most powerfully graphic bits of Requiem. I awoke with a jolt, and dressed rapidly in my unlit room, applying careful coats of mascara while thinking sour thoughts about humanity.
Standing in the rain on my doorstep I fumbled with my umbrella and walkman, determined to only play “Mad World” the whole walk, in a dogged and ill- advised attempt to feed my constructed moodiness. When Outkast came on instead I reached to juggle purses and wine-bags to reject such overt, tiresome happiness. But I was 10 minutes away from having to display an attempt at social skills, and converse light-heartedly with people who wouldn’t know me well enough to humor my absurdities. So I listened to “Hey Ya” and stomped in puddles and within seconds had transitioned almost entirely back to a resilient normalcy. The dinner party was good.
P.S. I intend a Real Update at some indeterminate point in the future, when I am not so lethargic. Really I do!
*= now with more caffeine! Also, contained in alluringly medicinal bottles, allowing one to consume one’s stimulants while imagining that one is administering a necessary remedy for a clearly diagnosed and certifiable ailment.