Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Tired

I want to go outside and do something, but I don’t know what. I mean I’m too tired. If I wasn’t too tired, I would go out and do something. But I still might not know what. Yesterday I went to the Tattered Cover, even though I was too tired, and then I stayed there turning pages and finding out things that maybe I did or maybe I didn’t need to know, bought The Nation because Katha Pollit wrote about SlutWalk and I was curious, but I turned too many pages and then my arms hurt and so I told myself I wouldn’t go back to the Tattered Cover today.

I could take a shower, but even that sounds tiring. Should I sit outside on the balcony? If I call someone, they might want to make plans, and that sounds tiring too, so maybe I should call someone who isn’t in Denver. I just talked to my mother. That was really tiring. She called me. Three times. I could call City Lights, to make sure copies of So Many Ways to Sleep Badly are on the way, but that definitely sounds tiring. Maybe I should lie down, but lie down and do what? I just did a whole feldenkrais CD, but that brought on the bloating.

I made an appointment with an ear doctor, to take the wax out of my ears – I’ve waited too long, and my whole head hurts. I don’t know if that’s why, but it might be. Especially when I get those pressure headaches, right? My mother wanted to know about Denver, but I was too tired to really talk about it. She always insists on talking to me when I’m tired, I mean calling me three times and then asking me questions but I don’t have anything to say. Or, maybe I have something to say, but I’m not saying it. Because I’m too tired. Sometimes I’m not tired, or not that tired, and then I talk to my mother, and then I’m so tired I can’t speak. But now my jaw is hurting, so I better stop writing.

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