Jan 03 2009
the smallest space heater in the world
So many dreams. So many, so many dreams. The coldest room, the deepest covers, the warmest cocoon of sleeping. The world outside, fading in and out. Getting up to pee- once, twice, three times. Hearing, vaguely, the dog’s reunion downstairs. Paula squeaking with joy, the stamping of the dog’s tail. Dreams so peopled, so full of costumes, colors, morals and plots, that I cannot possibly remember them. Any of them. What has been learned, in the night? Who knows. It’s all gone now, only the clear empty day, nothing to fill it. Waking up late, grateful. The more sleep I get, the more I want to write. I know this. Eight hours- alright. Nine, I’ve got inspiration to spare. Ten- Look out world! Somebody stop me! Then- a long breakfast and a stuffed-up nose, a small space heater that makes a sound like fish tank. Sometimes I hate my own writing.
