all quiet on the mid-western blog

XCVII

How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
And yet this time removed was summer's time;
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:
Yet this abundant issue seemed to me
But hope of orphans, and unfathered fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute:
Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.

My heart is in my throat and my gut is unsettled.

It has been difficult to read his works.
But lately I tend to ruminate different themes.
36, 96...
I separated my aloe today-- had to throw the mother plant out, which always feels to me like murder. Looking for a few good homes.

It is raining today (Friday) and I am enjoying the solace of the room.
In the meanwhile, Tweedy on my devoted readers, Tweedy on:

Company In My Back
I attack with love, pure bug beauty
I curl my lips and crawl up to you
I attack with love, pure bug beauty
I curl my lips and crawl up to you

And your afternoon
And I've been puking

I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back

Hide your soft skin, your sorrow is sunshine
Listen to my eyes
Hide your soft skin, your sorrow is sunshine
Listen to my eyes

They are hissing radiator tunes
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back

You learn so slow, old radiant beauty
I'll curve my flight
You learn so slow, old radiant beauty
I'll curve my flight

Under your bended knee
And I will always die
I will always die
I will always die
So you can remember me

I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit there's a company in my back
I move so slow, a steady crushing hand
Holy shit, there's a company in my back

There's a company in my back

haiku

In the cicada's cry
No sign can foretell
How soon it must die.
- basho

it's back to school in Bloomington.
the streets are littered with broken chairs, mildew-laden couches and other unwanted items. I cannot believe the amount of stuff people accumulate in such a short period of time. How wasteful.

Got a few leads on some musicals for the winter. I am now shoving my entire fist in my mouth and kicking myself for promising to stage a full blown production in the Japanese style. Talk about torture.
So a 40's style-zoot-suit Mikado is one option. Think the kids will dig it.
I've been coming to school now for several days and it feels ok. Well, as long as I stay in the room. But it feels warm and cozy. I can stay another year.

Did some other ground work type stuff today--I am definitely on the upswing.
I was given Emma Lou Harris' Wrecking Ball yesterday and just can't turn it off. Good lyrics, good melodies. Haunting. The kind of CD that gets under your skin and you know she has been there.

I have also been listening to Wilco's Ghost is Born more lately. His lyrics are so poetic. I hated the album at first, but after a few listens it has grown on me. Want to pick up the Lilly's today for shits and giggles.

It's good to have C and D around. I think it will be an even exchange for all of u.

The stress is rising. I got a cold sore last night. That is always a good sign. I was walking downtown and I ran into a close friend and parent of my favorite student, B-Carl. We are both crazies. He said I looked terrible but so did he. Our stars move in similar alignment.

gatsby's pool come fall

F. Scott Fitzgerald was a distracted writer. Zelda did a number on him, but it was her passion and insanity that helped to create the characters in most of his novels.
the fall of the year is fast approaching. i can always tell; the cicadas, the scent in the air, morning sky light, chilly evenings and the faint smell of woodsmoke outside.
the final scene of great gatsy comes to mind--the one when gatsby lay on the float before the shot was fired. summer ending feels like that to me.

while walking a trail this weekend with mac, carolyn and dave, the signs were everywhere. new lovers walking and talking, using private sayings and songs. I guess i overromaticize the season--thinking that romantic love does exist besides in movies and that a richard gere type will come in to work and carry me away from this. the fall.
Instead of starting any new relationships during the fall, it seems like most of them ended once the summer sun set.