Depths of frivolity
The clouds are soft silver tinged indigo. Sepia leaves of autumn stand against them. The cold seeps through brick, past cotton-swathing and deep into flesh, pale and shivering. The day is passing hours unproductively, waiting for night when I can sink into mattress, draw the covers against my skin and delve back into dreams of fire, extremity, bright and sapient colours of imagination, far from the mere numb sentience of awakening. In the mornings that come too soon, I tempt myself back to sleep with promises that daylight obligations can be placed on hold. In the blurry world before glasses, coffee and proper attire, it is easy to believe the real world is insubstantial mist.
Life, however, looms like an iceberg somewhere beyond a shower and breakfast. It is hard to know how to be armoured and prepared. Today I chose sensible shoes, jeans, layers of t-shirt. I throw my coat in the boot of my car - it is not a day for walking, I am already going to be late. Mail has arrived - my last week self bought a handbag on the internet made from a recycled suit. This was supposed to cheer me up, the receiving of mail. I tuck a few pins into the tweedy outer-lining with nerdy philosophy student quotes and Marie Antoinette eating cake. I slip some readings, my computer, phone-wallet-keys-pen, a charger - into it, wrap a scarf around my neck and leave. The window is ajar, just a crack. It will be cold when I get home, but I want to get some work done and not doze in the hazy warmth and comfort of my sanctuary.
The lecture is obligatory. I know materials are being covered that I ought to know but don't, but still my attention wanders. I am here to get my name marked off on a sheet. Despite my nerdish leanings and pins of intellectual snobbery, I am currently an inferior scholar. Exhausted, getting out of bed was enough of an ask. Tomorrow's tutorials are a draining thought. Discussions. Engagement. Eugh. I go to the library, more out of habit and panic than out of any real intention to get work down. I put it on the shoulders of tomorrow's self, hoping she is somehow more diligent, more resilient. I write. I look for messages from friends. I think I will attend a debate this evening and not rush off home, despite the hectic schedule.
Life, however, looms like an iceberg somewhere beyond a shower and breakfast. It is hard to know how to be armoured and prepared. Today I chose sensible shoes, jeans, layers of t-shirt. I throw my coat in the boot of my car - it is not a day for walking, I am already going to be late. Mail has arrived - my last week self bought a handbag on the internet made from a recycled suit. This was supposed to cheer me up, the receiving of mail. I tuck a few pins into the tweedy outer-lining with nerdy philosophy student quotes and Marie Antoinette eating cake. I slip some readings, my computer, phone-wallet-keys-pen, a charger - into it, wrap a scarf around my neck and leave. The window is ajar, just a crack. It will be cold when I get home, but I want to get some work done and not doze in the hazy warmth and comfort of my sanctuary.
The lecture is obligatory. I know materials are being covered that I ought to know but don't, but still my attention wanders. I am here to get my name marked off on a sheet. Despite my nerdish leanings and pins of intellectual snobbery, I am currently an inferior scholar. Exhausted, getting out of bed was enough of an ask. Tomorrow's tutorials are a draining thought. Discussions. Engagement. Eugh. I go to the library, more out of habit and panic than out of any real intention to get work down. I put it on the shoulders of tomorrow's self, hoping she is somehow more diligent, more resilient. I write. I look for messages from friends. I think I will attend a debate this evening and not rush off home, despite the hectic schedule.