sick and tired and prufrock

I’m getting so tired of sick. I know. I moan. But I’m not accustomed to not hearing and not tasting and not being able to push my body to run and jump and stay awake for more than six hours at a stretch.

It’s only temporary and SO VERY SILLY of me to complain but all this sitting at a desk until mid-day, then coming home, then going straight to bed…is beginning to wear thin. Even if it is all I’ve had the energy to do. Two days of normalcy since Christmas. Two!

Still, I’ve read a lot. Last night – this morning, rather – I woke up at 3:30am and read again about Anse and his teeth and was reminded how much I still adore the socks off Ole Bill Faulkner.

The night before I was up at 4:00am reading The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock from The Complete Poems and Plays of T.S. Eliot (1969).

“The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes.”
That’s pretty personification, that.

The last time I read any Eliot, I was a sophomore in high school. It was the last time I read any Elizabeth Bishop too. (Just sayin’.) My teacher was Shelby Neal.

I loved that class.

*p.s. Just got the loveliest message from an old MHS classmate of mine, “N”. Thank you so much.