1. The infection that has plagued my left foot for nearly two weeks now continues to settle down. Most of the anger is isolated to my big toe. Because of the kidney disease I live with, I can't take painkillers. This isn't a problem during the day so much, but the pain of this infection has messed with my nighttime sleep. Today, without any classes to teach, I not only stayed home all day, but on three occasions I napped, refreshing myself with sleep, sleep that I have not been able to get in a consistent way at night.
(Do any of you Shakespeare lovers do this when you can't sleep? Do you find yourself melodramatically repeating these lines?
Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast,--
****
Still it cried 'Sleep no more!' to all the house:
'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.'
I do. Ha! As if my sleeplessness were caused by the guilt of killing the king....but, having Shakespeare run through my mind is pretty entertaining!)
2. I'm looking forward, in a pretty big way, to being healed up so I can get out and take walks again. For one thing, this will help my sleep. In the meantime, I've been watching documentaries, especially of musicians. Today I watched the dispiriting story of Harry Nilsson entitled Who Is Harry Nilsson (And Why Is Everybody Talkin' About Him). Listening to him sing was sublime, but bearing witness to his self-destruction was painful. I was reminded of Donald Hall's reflections upon Dylan Thomas in his book Remembering Poets. Donald Hall accused the public of cheering on Dylan Thomas with adoration for his drunkenness while he destroyed himself, while he committed what Hall described as a public suicide, "of self-murder[ ], to the applause of crowds". Harry Nilsson destroyed himself with alcohol and other drugs. Not everyone in his life cheerfully indulged him, but several of the people in this movie laughed and seemed to relish how crazy Harry Nilsson could be while binging and I felt some of the disgust I remember Donald Hall feeling that these friends of Harry Nilsson's got such a kick out his self-destruction. Harry Nilsson's story haunts me.
3. The Deke and I went over to the Pour House and split a Cherise sandwich. It was smoked chicken and slaw and Russian dressing and melted swiss on marbled rye. Fantastic. We also each ate one slider and it was the best slider I've ever eaten. The little patty was a custom beef and pastrami blend with mustard served between two slices of baguette. The pleasure nearly brought tears to my eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment