an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

week nine: spring


The year of committing to breakfast: remember when you gave it up? Twenty-seven years of shunning food in the morning (well into mid-afternoon), and it's not easy today, this morning, to treat anything as if it is palatable, not at this hour. Used to start with tea, degenerated to diet Pepsi. Then Diet Dew. Which was a sign of not living again. Well it happens when you live alone: you get busy and forget you exist. It helps to have people remind you, but mostly people have no idea you need reminding. Mostly your body starts making noise in the corner, so you try out oatmeal, spooning it into your body which has lately been sick, and your body says not hungry and your head says but it's oatmeal it's good and this goes on until the last of the full cup of cereal has been coaxed down, and the hot bath is drawn, and the smell of lavender in the water is something to look forward to.


"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

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