Day off

The chapter is done, all of the windows are open, and I am drinking a beer.  I spent the day catching up on chores, which, like most other things that are not my dissertation, I have neglected badly.  I even toyed with the idea of doing my taxes, but since I had run out of clean underwear, laundry won out.

Underwear aside, my life is as small and clenched as I knew it would become.  I’ve been here before, and although so much is different this time around, the core of the process is fundamentally the same.  Retreat.  Immerse.  Write.  Repeat. I wish that it could be less monastic, and perhaps under different conditions it will be, but for now this is what works.  So be it.

My last horoscope began with this: “Saturn in your sign is a heavy influence, but it’s teaching you to hold your ground and give your life some dependable shape.”  I suppose that it is, but not in any way that I am able to recognize as such.  I don’t know how I will pay my rent next month, or what I will do for a living, or if my father and I will ever speak again.  And yet, I am writing as if none of these things matter, which is either madness or progress or quite probably both.

In any case, it is almost summer.  I won’t let this one slip away.