tuckova

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Interests: Alfons Mucha, Archibald Leach, big words, Bob Hicok, Brian Eno, Cat Power, Charles Bukowski, Charlotte Masaryk, cheese, clarity, dark chocolate, David Byrne, David Foster Wallace, Dorothy Parker, Douglas Adams, Edna St. Vincent Millay, E.E. Cummings, Frank O’Hara, Fred Rogers, garlic, Gaudi, Gertrude Stein, ginger, Gustav Klimt, Iva Pekarkova, Jane Austen, Jaromir Nohavica, Jeanette Winterson, Josef Skvorecky, Joseph Campbell, Joss Whedon, Just a Minute, Kate Bush, Kurt Vonnegut, laughing until it hurts, Laurie Anderson, Leonard Cohen, little kids singing, Lloyd Alexander, mandarin oranges, making lists, Margaret Atwood, Miss Manners, New Yorker, Paul Simon, performance, P.G. Wodehouse, poetry, Rebecca Solnit, Rob Brezsny, Robert Anton Wilson, Robert Creeley, salt, Salvador Dali, secrets, silence, Star Trek, Stephen Dunn, Talking Heads, Terry Gilliam, things that stain, This American Life, Tom Waits, T.S. Eliot, vegetable juice, veiled cultural references, vinegar, water, wine, W.H. Auden

dream of sheep

In light of what I have done and have yet to do I should be sleeping and in the same light I am not. Part of my brain thinks I can stay awake and prevent bad things from happening and as I am not a shark or whatever animal it is that lets part of its brain sleep I am swimming swimming swimming and I am awake. Please let the future be bright and I promise not to ask for more than I deserve; please let things be as they are and I promise to be satisfied. Although this is why I don't pray, because they are deals I always forget. Almost 4 a.m., almost time to wake up, and I have not yet slept, and I am making deals with imaginary objects I don't believe in. The first imaginary object I remember believing in was a girl who played with me all the time; her father was an Indian who rode a motorcycle. We loved each other and I think sometimes I am still looking for her, the girl who always wanted to play the same games as I did. Though how she looked has so faded from my memory I'm not sure I'd recognize her; she'd have to have not changed her name, and then I would know.

Today I edited a paper about dancing preventing or delaying Alzheimer's, and then because I am prone to connect the dots I went to a dance class where I could do everything except what I couldn't, and it was loud and sweaty and wonderful and now I enjoy the bonus of thinking that my brain is as happy as my body to be doing this, ass wiggling arm flinging slow-quickquick-slow stepping. 

The weather is unpredictable and often miserable. Some days feel like a litany of complaint. And yet even though I have wanted more, me and my greed, I have not lost sight of the many wonders of my life: that I love my job, that my life is so full of goodness, that art can always get past my walls and straight into my heart, that my friends are amazing. Keep counting keep counting, blessings like sheep. If I can fall back to sleep now I could get a good two hours before it's time to begin again.

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