Sucking Smack

If you sleep with the overhead lights on, the glare will push you to cognizance.  Early you’ll stir and you rise feeling like you have already missed something.  And then you realize all the dull obligation that awaits.  It’s right there where you left it.  The uncompromising lights were left on purpose so you’d reach this resigned alertness, sooner.  Awake and stuck there.

Really?  Off again.  Then the sound of a not insignificant sized fish, hitting the floor with a wet smack.  The wind has broken the wet seal that held the window in place with a sucking smack.  The room is suddenly open to the night.  Traffic comes in now.  The cold has hit me.  I hadn’t locked the window shut it seems.  I do that now, turning the knob.  Once again, I’m up.  But not quite ready to sit at the desk.

This tidal pull continues and when I am finally sitting at the desk, I notice that this typing has advanced to page 192 of the document.  The space bar was down for that much time.  So.  Work then. 

I need to talk about Robert Oppenheimer today.  I found a clip on line where he is reflecting on watching the first bomb go off in Los Alamos.  He references his translation of the Bagahvad Gita : “I have become the destroyer of worlds.”  Something too about his ponderous cerebral quality knitted to this odd antiquated, everyman American English.  When I was up and then asleep I kept thinking of him and the way he said words like “paper.”