I feel really shitty, really down in the dumps. I started feeling ill yesterday, with some big thick fatigue. I would sleep for a few hours, sit up in bed, read a few pages of Marx until my eyelids weighed in at 350 pounds, slink back down under the blanket to sleep for a few hours, blink my eyes and feel confused, let the cat lick my head for a little bit, read the same few pages of Marx again, go to the bathroom and sit on the toilet for a half hour or so with my head in my hands, stagger back to bed, read the first couple chapters of a French translation of Song of Songs, sleep, &c., etc., et cetera, &/c., &ca., et caetera, and the rest.
I think I must have slept really hard and in a weird position last night because when I woke up there was a sharp pain in my shoulder that has not left me at all today. I can't hold my left arm above my waist for any amount of time without wincing. If I were an existentialist or a Tibetan Buddhist I could be grateful for the pain because it serves as a reminder of my creatureliness, my finitude, the fact that not very far off in the future I'll be food for worms. But I am not an existentialist nor a Tibetan Buddhist, so I've been loading up on the Ibuprofen, 'cause I'm a fucking American, that's why.
I wish my ears were dirtier than they are, because I really enjoy q-tipping. I, of course, live dangerously (remember: I'm a fucking American) by sticking those sons of bitches all the way into my ear canal, as far as they'll go. I'd go so far as to say that cleaning my ears is on a par with the joy I find in slipping on a brand new, virgin pair of tube socks, or scoring over 800 points in electronic yahtzee.
I'm really bad at math. This is not because I am incapable of mathematics, I've just never really taken the time to work at it. College algebra is the highest math course I've ever taken. I don't feel very good about this. I have an aching desire to spend a good chunk of time really focusing on it and it only. I'm thinking about taking a math class this fall just for the hell of it. That seems like such a comforting idea. No stupid and dumb words. Just numbers.
I'm confused about everything.
I used to pray the Rosary at least once a day. I would switch between praying it in English and praying it in French. When I was in Kansas City I would pray the Rosary once a week with Josh, saying the Hail Marys in between sips of cheap red wine. Once Kris called while he was drunk and crying and we prayed the Rosary and said the Creed over the phone, over and and over. I prayed using the cheap wooden Rosary I bought at a Catholic bookstore in Kansas City and he prayed with some wooden beads that a dying man had given him. Once I was invited to mass at a convent in Kansas City by a woman I worked with at the Kansas City Public Library who lived at the convent. Danica and I arrived early and we sat and prayed the Rosary with the sisters, using some cheap neon-colored plastic beads.
I haven't prayed the Rosary in months. I haven't prayed outside of a church in months. Most of the time I'm too lazy to go to church. Seems like everyone else in this city is, as well.
This guy is my favorite busker in Montreal.
He plays really fine seventies rock songs at the Guy-Concordia metro, which is right next to my school, so I get to see him quite often. I never seem to have any money on me when I see him, however. There's also a lanky guy with a bald head who plays old folk songs and slide guitar whom I really enjoy, but I don't see him very much anymore.
I'm ready for the snow to start falling already. I have no fond feelings for heat. Snow is still novel to me. I like to wear my big boots with my thick socks. I feel so comfy in my big green coat with the fur-lined hood. I especially like to smoke outside when it is snowing, except for the painfully frozen fingers.
I still feel pretty terrible right now. I feel like I have three bricks in my stomach, my entire body is one big ache, I can't get rid of the throbbing behind my eyes, the shooting pain is alive and well in my shoulder. You should feel really bad for me.
The new people who moved in above us are being really noisy, like they're having foot races and wrestling matches, moving thirteen beds around, playing basketball, jumping jacks, throwing babies, terrible at medicine ball...
I confess that I care more about this news story than this one.