novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- daylight spent i hate that the sun has decided to set earlier in the evening, exactly when i begin to arrive home after six o'clock every night. an hour's worth of daytime and then i'm in night mode, rumbling around my apartment, reading and watching movies. the day shortage makes me feel like all i do is work and sleep. lately insomnia has resurfaced. i have always been very stubborn. i am thinking about sleep as i walk back towards my apartment, skirting around the lake. i am wearing cheap brown sunglasses that slide quietly down the bridge of my nose. draped over my left arm is a jacket and in my left hand is the book best new american voices, its spine broken after one day, a page tipping out of legibility thanks to the wind on the lake. draped over my right arm is a giant blue corduroy bag with a mustard stain on its bottom and in my right hand, balanced awkwardly, are two paper takeout boxes filled with chinese food. i am still in work clothes. the button-up shirt is taut across my chest, making me self-conscious. i have to stop every seven or eight steps and roll my shoulders to relax the fabric. in front of me, on the lawn surrounding the lake, a woman plays with her dog. they are not merely playing. they are relating. she is squatting eye-level with the dog, squinting into his face, trying to free a thick leather leash from his jaws. laughing. the dog bucks on his hind legs, bounding away, and then back, eyes on the woman. what kind of dog is that? i ask her. not only am i stubborn, but i always like to be included. she keeps her eyes on her dog, shrugging at me. the dog, however, trots over and inspects my takeout. hi. you're happy, i tell him. he continues to smell me. oooh, she says. somebody has foooood. she grins, clearly at her pet. i laugh too loudly in response. i am clearly missing my dog. missing about three hours of sleep. not about to miss a truly awful representation of chinese cuisine. during this interaction, i am still lumbering alongside the lake, shifting my body in my ill-fitting clothes, changing my grips on my awkward objects. in fact, i turned a page while the dog smelled my food. woman and dog bound away and part of me goes with them. the other part notices that it must be high tide because the water level is so much closer to top of the stone ledges built into the sides of the lake. the ripples are a different consistency when the lake is at high tide. they are daintier and more uniform, and the sunset echoes off each ripple individually. you can tell if you squint. 10:47 pm - 10.01.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||