Today I felt like Prince Nikolaus von Esterh�zy, watching my orchestra leave the summer palace, by twos and threes, in an f-sharp adagio, no less. Except I don't have a court orchestra, so I watched Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion and cleaned the litter box instead. Nearly fainted; the litter box is not being cared for very well right now, and it was pretty vile.
I am most certainly ill: I will spare you the details, which are frankly intestinal. I miss eating, distantly, like somebody who has his return train ticket already misses the lover he has run away from. I know that I adore food, but right now is a bad time for us: food and I have taken some time off for me to work some shit out. So to speak. Spent the day trudging through weekend daytime television, spilt virtual ink on tech support, played more Farnaby fancies and a F Couperin ordre, the one with the passacaille l'Amphibie. It can't decide whether it's major or minor; this is like a frog.
I haven't left the house except for a desperate coffee run on Saturday afternoon. I re-read some Musil, finished the young adult novel Flamboy�nt, and a few more chapters of the newest Paul Auster novel. I gazed lovingly at Euripides, thinking about how cool it would be to sit down and translate again.
I decided that a sick room ought to have a sweet, heavy smell in it to cover over the death (in my case, Dirty Laundry will be playing the r�le of Death). I put on In the Sanatorium (Best. Momus Track. Ever.) and lit a rose-scented candle. MR across the hall has a tawny-port scented candle of which I am sore envious.
I thought that running an electric razor over my chin tonight would forestall too much hacking and hewing tomorrow morning, since my last proper razor blade is old and I have no new ones. That must be why I let my beard grow out for a whole weekend. That razor can take this beard, but half of my face will be going with it. I am arming for a war of pogonic attrition. So I ran an electric razor over my chin tonight before bed, and it is itchy and dry something awful. Nothing feels right; can I have a new body?