i came home tonight from paul's house at about 4.30 am. tim drove me home while i looked at a book of EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD arranged in order from smallest to largest. at 4.10, we contemplated the possibility of one more bowl but we realized we weren't being reasonable and tim and i said goodnight to aron and paul.
my only class today was romantics, just before getting on the bus home, and i am so incredibly glad i didn't skip it. i hadn't done my readings for the day, since all my time had been eaten up by the essay i had to write for renaissance poetry & prose, so when we started the lecture and i heard the things people were saying in discussion, it was like a really excellent surprise gift.
we talked about blake's the marriage of heaven and hell, how it tells us to free ourselves from the binding rules of the church and follow our natural energies. we have both reason and passion within us. the body is a part of the soul. we should not be restricting and limiting ourselves, striving for something in death, but rather we should be living fully while we are alive.
reading it felt fucking fantastic. so many lines were exactly right:
EXPECT POISON FROM THE STANDING WATER.
(because change is so necessary for health.)
THE FOX CONDEMNS THE TRAP, NOT HIMSELF.
(when life becomes something you don't like, change your life instead of torturing yourself. nobody deserves to suffer.)
DIP HIM IN THE RIVER WHO LOVES WATER.
(i especially love the way this is worded, suggesting giving to others, not taking for yourself.)
OPPOSITION IS TRUE FRIENDSHIP.
(someone who blinds you by always telling you you're right is no friend.)
FOR EVERY THING THAT LIVES IS HOLY.
it was like reading antoine de saint-exupéry's the wisdom of the sands. so brilliant i would have it tattooed all over my skin. AND I GET TO READ BOOKS THIS GOOD FOR SCHOOL. I LOVE MY LIFE.
professor morrison's voice gets high-pitched when he's excited about an idea. professor morrison tells us not to think in black & white. "THINK GREY," he says. he speaks of the poets as wise men, visionaries, prophets. "the unacknowledged legislators of the world." he asks us: "at the end of your four years at queen's, what are you going to do with your english degree?" he answers immediately: "you're going to get out there and change the world." how could i not adore him.
i have focused so much on reason for a while, ignoring desire or calling it suffering. but that's far too black & white of me. both are so necessary. the balance is so necessary. i feel more and more like socrates every day, in that i know i know nothing for certain. change is the only constant. motherfuckin socrates, man.
a gorgeous boy sits on the opposite side of the room, carefully brushing his mop of curls out of his pale blue eyes and raising his hand, first finger pointed up, to make intelligent comments in a warm, calm, comfortable voice. his mouth curls up at the corners like the lips of a lion, like he's always on the brink of smiling a genuine smile.
tonight i stood in the forest behind paul's house sharing a fat two-pape that i'd rolled with tim and aron. we went back inside to the basement and paul asked us what we wanted. i asked for fruit. as aron peeled an orange, i bit into a crisp, sour green apple and chewed it slowly, fulfilling my craving. feeling metaphorical.
written saturday night:
my aunt left for switzerland today, and my mom and i drove to the airport to see her off. we cried when she went through the gate, but she was smiling and ready to go and see her husband and her son and her mother and be with them, all together for the first time in months and months. looking at her sitting there with my mom and her other good friends, she asked me "do you like second year more than first year?" and after i said yes i really thought about it, what a time that was, such a trial, and how different everything is this year. and i was standing there looking at them about to go through the same kind of thing, friends splitting up going their own ways, and i felt so much sympathy.
our friend kaya's grandma quoted someone she'd heard describe goodbyes as little deaths. "he was exaggurating, certainly," she said, "but there's some truth in that."