#theshortestdays (4)

I'm trying to slow down, along with the year.

It's not easy for me. But this morning I soaked in a hot tub reading a Japanese novel, well past our usual departure time for work, while, in the next room, J. lay on the bed, reading Bolano. "Shall I wait for you to go up to the studio?" he asked. I had already checked the weather: gray, cold, pelting rain. "Yes," I said, "if you don't mind too much." "No, it's fine," he said, "maybe I'll go back to sleep, and in a few moments I heard fake snoring, and laughed. I became engrossed in the story: fifteen minutes, twenty-five. Then the voice from the next room announced, "I think I'll go on up," startling me out of my book-head. "No, no," I said, "it's OK, I'll finish up quickly," and plunged my hair under the water, beginning to hurry again.

There are cookies to bake, gifts to wrap, another rehearsal and evening of singing. Meanwhile the pendulum of natural time feels like it is coming to a still point. I try to listen to the stillness, but even now I hear ticking; perhaps it's just my own heart.