i can lie in bed and type, can’t i?
i’m pretending to feel better. if you saw me in “you can’t take it with you,” where i pretended to be a very bad ballet dancer, you’ll know that i can do an excellent job of pretending. very excellent.
not that i’m in any way a good ballet dancer. but you know what i mean.
my professor showed one lone slide in class, of a theater in rome. he said he was on sabbatical there a while ago. he said he went to italy on his sabbatical for three reasons – he wanted to study dante, and galileo, and italian landscape painting. this is my english professor, who also does astronomy, and who knows what else.
first, and most importantly – i want to be so wrapped up in so many pursuits of the mind, scholarly stuff like dante and painting…well, not dante himself, i had to read his blasted inferno more than once in college, and that was more than enough for me, but i do want to learn to paint – but i long to be so passionate about scholarly pursuits, instead of my own petty day-to-day tortures that i torment myself with, all inside of this head of mine. maybe if i work at it, i can train my mind to spend all its time only thinking cerebral thoughts (but then again, what other kinds of thoughts could the mind think? footlike thoughts? elbow thoughts?), instead of the pursuit of happiness in a non-academic way, which never gets me anywhere but feeling like this right now.
and secondly, i want a job where i can go on sabbatical. of course, i really just want to go on sabbatical all the time (to europe), but i know this is highly unrealistic.
i must sleep. the other night a friend told me he takes an antihistimine at night sometimes to help him sleep all the way through the night (is there one single person who just sleeps through the night, unaided?), and so i just took one and i’m eager to sleep, hopeful (not knowing how i manage to always, always remain hopeful about something or other, even when i really don’t believe in hope as a concept that pans out so much) that i’ll sleep all night long until it’s actually time for me to get up.
ok then,
grace still typing, even though i wasn’t going to right now, because i simply can’t help it.
i suppose it’s a better addiction than say, cigarettes and beer. both of which i can’t stand anyway.