Sonatina

May 22, 2008

promise

I just slept for an hour, or more than an hour disorienting sleep losing track of the world. Curled up tightly under my blue blanket. I felt my mother come in. She covered my cold feet. I woke up at 4:07 and I was breathing in time with a piano. Mozart. Salzburg concerto C Major, Amadeus. Theophilus, Gottlieb.

Aperto. My heart is open and full.

You know you love me

If not you probably wouldn't put up with my pity parties or bother to read my whining.
I love you too so I'll be funnier.
I've gotten dressed finally and wrapped my pathetic self up in the blue felty illness blanket. I am listening to the classical station and becoming slightly delusional and eating some quaggy carroty mushy soup. I won't say exactly what it looks like. And it tastes like rot too. If I sipped between the pulpy orange bits there supposedly is some sort of tolerable liquid I daren't call it broth, but I don't have the will for it and hardly the appetite. I think quaggy is a word. When the sun comes out I'll delete all this anyway. I promise. I wonder if there is a hospice like service that sends someone to your house to love you when you're miserable and have only got one can of quaggy carrot mush soup rot to eat. One that doesn't necessarily require you to die after it's all said and done, though I suppose I could if it came down to it. Mum used to take care of me at times like these, but presently she is 1)Too busy and 2)too susceptible. Actually this morning when I announced my condition from my pillow she said something along the lines of oh shnike I can't get sick and ran off to search for a gas mask, now she's my shadow with the can of disinfectant. I laugh so I don't have to cry. I think shnike is a word.

When the sun comes out I'll delete all this anyway. And it will, the sun.

-

I wouldn't mind rainbows.

Raining still

At this point I feel terrible and I wish it had something to do with my being sick.

Sick day

My throat was burning when I woke up. I'm still in what I wore to sleep which is most of what I wore yesterday too, so from my head to my toes I look like trash. I'm not leaving the house so I can't care much. It doesn't matter if my eyes are redrimmed from pollen or tears. They both come suddenly, artless and natural this time of year. It rained half the night. It's raining now. I know because a minute ago I stood out on the grass in my bare feet watching the west. I forgot for a while that I feel awful, it is so incredible to be outside on a morning when all you can smell are blossoms and thunder.