Carpe Diem
I am awake now, and grinning stupidly in the half-dark, because a falling hat rack narrowly missed my head.
It never gets more than half-dark in here: the streetlight invades through the busted venetian slats. It picks out a few objects, fewer than usual because I cleaned the room last night. I also did two loads of washing; this was very nearly my undoing.
It is 4am, May 18. Today I will idly wonder again whether I have a tumour, probing a bony bulb behind my left ear. Today I will encounter again by accident the first line of Finnegan's Wake:
riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.
A fine and whimsical line; surely the daintiest invitation to undertake a trudging orbit of Madness. The graphic designer for the latest Penguin paperback edition thought it necessary to warn potential readers of the dangers within: the incomprehensible first page is rendered on the cover over hellish fiery clouds.
Today I will make a joke that people will laugh at twice in five seconds—once hesitantly, once uproariously, and I won't know why it took them two attempts. Today I will be sternly reprimanded by a girl I have never met, for failing, in her judgement, to meet objectives I have imposed upon myself. Today I will order a sandwich in a voice too deep to be natural, and will ask for a recommendation on the appropriate condiments. I will take the advice that is simultaneously proffered and disclaimed.
Today I will think about war and murder, racism and hegemony, unified modelling languages for software development, and why my left hand is itchy. Today I will find out the name of my great-great-great-great grandfather, and I will see the island on the other side of the world where he spent his whole life, amidst runic stones and geese, and I will learn why I bear his first name as my second. Today I will spend mostly worrying about tomorrow, and the day after. Today, at the last moment, I will rescue today, and preserve it, slightly pickled in Latin.
But right now it is 4am, 18 May, and I am trying to suppress a giggle. My hat rack just detached from the wall and landed a couple of inches from my head. The weight of two wet shirts on hangers was finally too much to bear. I am reflecting on the absurdity of being so roused from my slumber, and how dire it might have been if I had rolled to the other side of the bed.
And in a moment, I will go back to sleep, to prepare for a beckoning, half-examined day.
Joseph | | Comments(7)
Copyright © 2006 Joseph Pearson, some rights reserved.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Comments
Chris J. Davis
Glad you didn’t get clobbered by the hat rack. Oh and something borked on the site as well, your background-color is gone!
Joseph
Thanks Chris, fixed now.
Brad
Isn’t it amazing how much more you’re posting now that the (insert unmentionable words to substitute for “thesis”) is over, and hopefully done with?
Congratulations on that, by the way. Luckily you didn’t “waste” the effort of handing it in by dying at the “hands” of newly-washed clothes.
Joseph
Cheers, Brad. Yep, once I got over my hangover things certainly picked up around here. If it gets a decent mark, I’ll follow Rob’s lead and put it up here. Only if it gets a good mark though; I haven’t got the courage to do it just yet..
Brad
And you can give it some nice CSS treatment ala: “Punctuation Personified” and that comic book you did at Zen Garden (Wiggles?).
I was also going to ask about the hangover. Somehow I’ve got the idea in my head that you’re a drinkin’ man. As far as courage goes, you can’t beat the Dutch variety. ;)
Robert
Looking forward to reading it, Joseph. (I’m sure you’ll do well—they’ll be dazzled by your sparkling prose, regardless of your research…)
Joseph
Well I can only hope, because the argument was pretty thin too. But thanks! :)
Brad, yeah I was thinking of that, but the 150+ footnotes are a bitch to convert by hand. One day I’ll sit down and think about how to do it with a Word macro.