I am staring at an entire weekend. I have a pile of grading, my house is a pile, besides reading back issues of New Yorker and missed episodes of Mad Men, I have no plans. None. Well, there is a bottle of KJ in the fridge = A Date! The last episode of Mad Men, of course, ends with someone sitting on the stairs listening to Don't Think Twice. I once thought that song was the meanest break up song in the world. Now I just cry when I hear the first chord, wishing I could play the guitar. I also find myself crying on the stairs very often. Stairs to the basement, Stairs to the bedroom, the crazy crooked creaking Stair in TNT's back staircase, Marble Stairs into TNTs where I sat this morning with my boys drinking coffee, picking up my car in the same clothes as the night before. The example of Entropy Stair on my front porch. Things fall apart.
The Louise Gluck poem "Marriage" in this week's New Yorker is about me, I swear. http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/poetry/2007/10/22/071022po_poem_gluck
It made me plan a trip to the ocean "Down the shore" as they say here in MD. Instead of driving to the ocean, I'm sitting in my pile avoiding the stairs. Epiphany in Baltimore makes me seem ridiculously lazy.
1 comment:
You do much good work. Teach 1000 students, get up at 5:00 a.m., IM, blog, drink KJ, cook, entertain 100 friends (whilst sharing your KJ) and replacing all photos with paperback editions of your favorite books and read your sister's novel. I think you win!
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