December 8th, 2003

Sea dragon

The darkest days of the year

At 7:10 AM the alarm went off, and how could I awake with The Blackened Darkness of Hell Itself sucking all the life out of my body? Fortunately by 7:30 AM a wee bit of grey was peeping in the blinds and I was able to roll out of my bed, all the while cursing the fact that I had absolutely nothing to do at work today and therefore no real REASON to get out of bed. I had the car, though, and sort of daydreamed on the drive in, wondering what it was, exactly, that made the clouds on the south end of Lake Washington such a pestilential shade of yellow-brown. Of course, by the time I'd made it across the floating bridge, I'd gotten high enough that I could appreciate the silvery gloss of the lake with the pretty pine trees reflecting in it, an experience which was somehow heightened by hearing that one person dies of asthma every day in Washington State. ("Winter is icummen in, Lhude sing Goddamm,
Raineth drop and staineth slop, And how the wind doth ram! Sing: Goddamm.) Perhaps I'll look in to joining my pagan friends in a real solstice celebration this year - goddess only knows I'll be ready to somehow mark the turn of this foul time of the year, other than stuffing myself like a pig.

Now I'm at work and I have a lovely new CD by Jordi Savall to listen to ("Ostinato", which I picked up at the REBEL concert on Saturday) and no work to do. Well, I've got a Thursday deadline for my Michael Kenna story, so I guess I'll work on that when I'm doing nothing else. It's going to be pretty quiet, what with my office mate off playing new daddy. Maybe I can find the motivation to eat less ... perhaps saying I'll only snack if it's a homemade Christmas goodie will be enough to help me slide back down to my pre-Thanksgiving weight - or I can just call the whole thing a wash and get back on the wagon after the New Year's comes.
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