hat shaped hats

“in walked a man in the shape of a man
holding a hat-shaped hat
and he held up two fingers and said “how many fingers?”
and i said, “peace man, that’s where it’s at.”
i said, you are what you do in order to
prevent becoming what you’re busy not doing
and if you do do it truly
and you arive at it newly
then in the end you are absolved
and the problem of heaven is solved
and the man broke into a smile
like he was breaking into song
and he was broken and smiling and I was singing along
and we compleed agretely about most things
’til the sun set sweetly like it does in those paintings
the ones they hang in the hotel rooms
the ones they bolt to the walls
as if anyone would want to steal them at all
and we talked like children without breathing
until i stopped this lady as she was leaving
and i said, excuse me
but do you know what time it would be
if we were on mars?
and she held up her hand
like a crossing guard stopping the cars
and she said
five in the morning
in walked a man in the shape of a man holding a hat-shaped hat”
-ani difranco

I wish it were as clear as all that. I wish it were merely a matter of a hat-shaped hat. But it’s not.

Nothing stays the same shape. None of the shapes are recognizable. My dreams come in clips and chunks of Life. Simple things, like emptying the cat pan, washing the dishes. So that when I wake, I think they’re done until I find that they’re not.

My fingers are cold. My arm is sore. My nose is clogged. My throat hurts.

blah blah blah blah blah.

The heat just kicked on, so that’s good. Hopefully there will be a new schedule out at work tonite. Especially since the current one ends on Saturday. heh.

Apparently I didn’t have much to say. Surprise.