Welcome to the H. I’m inhabiting today:
A shallow bowl of black plastic filled with applesauce-flecked yogurt. It’s disappearing fast.
Sidewalks baked in a snow-oven overnight, the top layer crusty and being tossed aside in pieces as I shovel.
Silty, clouded coffee in a fat, honeypot-esque mug. Wishing there were more.
A redhead in Western Civ. is wearing pink and I think it looks nice.
Droning four-foot principle stop playing mentally as I watch paper-tongues emerge from the printer… “Great is thy faithfulness; 2/3, 3, 3, quick substitute to 5; right toe – left toe -right toe, heel…”
Dignified Prof. R., clad in jeans and his rather old coat, running beneath the bridge. Urgently, without mittens or hat despite the bitter cold.
Dutch colors through the classroom door kitty-corner to my seat in the reading room – someone has a backpack with blaze orange and navy blue and it’s sprawled on the floor. (Do people look deflated like that, when they faint and/or fall over?)
Slate-like snow patterns forming the roof of Chamberlin as I look up, Dickinsonian winter slant-light pressing through the covered skylights.
And Prof. S. has recently styled her hair. It is very orange. Copper orange. Like those old colonialish wigs, but one made of pennies.
Scrawls in grey pencil and black pen all over the flimsy and rough-edged paper of the Logic homework I’m grading, illegible like the Arabic I saw in Systematic Theology today but not beautiful like that Arabic.
Prof. Y. and his wife shuffled along the snowy walks clinging to one another this morning. They looked like a pair of birds, especially she in her bright red coat. As our rooster Finzi would accompany a hen to the compost pile, hopping gingerly through the snow.
There is a checkered pattern on the reading room glass. What archetypal patterns are checkering my world? Hegel’s triads? Kant’s logical structures? What else is there, overlooked?