Watching Dune this weekend all I could think of during the first Mentat scene was Kegboy sitting cross-legged on his couch giggling:
It is by caffeine alone that I set my mind in motion
It is by the beans of Java that my thoughts acquire speed,
The hands acquire a shaking, the shaking becomes a warning.
It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion.
Specifically caffeine with precisely three dashes of cinammon and a heavy dash of nutmeg as per Mr. Pyke's detailed instructions for What To Do With Less Than Premium Coffee.
Which I've been avoiding all varieties of lately, because I want to, because I want to spend days here and there where I feel pure somehow and not dependent on the constant vibrato that got me through university.
Also because sometimes fifty feet up a wall my shoulders start shaking, my biceps cramping and seizing, when all I have to do to make this climb CLEAN is to heave twice more.
THe neat thing about depriving myself of one of my favourite feelings, is mornings when I indulge again.
This morning, the slack features of a tired and sickly cohost begged for caffeination and I had some too.
Then, I:
Caught up on all my comics, vacuumed downstairs and upstairs and moved all the furniture and folded the sheets and dusted the bookcase with my bare hand and some spit because the moment told me that it was required, then I cleaned out the front hall closet and put things in rows and put other things in other places then I had a conversation with the next door neighbour and the recycling guys who finally deigned to take our recycling then I put all the beer bottles from this weekend into beer bottle boxes to be taken back to the beer store, then I resorted the beer bottles into their appropriate beer boxes because the red ones had been with the green ones and it looked silly and christmassy.
Then I sang my lessons really really fast and inhaled a hamburger then I had this urge to run out and buy knitting needles before I forget how to do a cable knit, and before I'd convinced my feet that they should be heading towards the shower, not the front door, my brain was already designing the faux-col for a charcoal and black sweater that I'd really like to make with little backwards seams on the bottom.
THen I decided that I had a sewing machine and lots of material much closer than the nearest knitting supply store and I had the design for a barely-there blouse all ready to show off my tattoo when I...
...ran out of steam and now I'm back in my white plastic lawn chair, padded with a fresh clean green towerl, listening to the comforting hum of the machines and feeling my heartbeat slow to match their steady pace.
Cristal emailed me seven times today, about what to pack, what we already have here, the weather and her rollerblades and ways to reach her by emailing her cell phone.
Looks like the household will be filled with new all over again, and if we all grin largely at each other, perhaps it will be even more filled with magic.