goodbye february (go quickly)
So: last week, MIA. Most of it anyway. And here it was supposed to be a week where I finally caught up to things, where all the lists started ticking down.
Instead I got Norwalk. It came to me, in its pneumatically poisoned way, on Tuesday night. Like Dante's version of waterworld, only internalized (and then not). Geysers of misery.
Someday it would be fun to make a list of one's worst nights. I don't know if this would be top ten material, but it would definitely crack the twenty mark.
It was a fitting episode to close out the month, which has lived up to its usual billing of just plain awful. Every year I try to brace myself for how bad it's going to be, and every year it wildly exceeds my expectations.
Someday I'll just run away from it, hide myself on some beach. (By the way: when laid up/down like this, reading about castaways is quite helpful -- you've never got it quite as bad as some scurvy-riddled fool who had to scratch out five or ten years clubbing seals to death on a godforsaken rock in the south Atlantic. And of course I reread Slaughterhouse Five as well, because it's so fluid with gentle agony and shrugging benevolence.)
March, at least, seems hopeful. We got some snow at last, to damp down the garbagey look of the place. And the sun is out more, and I'm simplifying things as much as I can, and going slower, while being more methodical, because I think running myself into the ground made the thing all that much worse. And I'm a slow guy anyway, I've always been told so.