Monday, January 4, 2010
The river is standing still this evening. It stopped like it had nowhere to go. It makes you nervous when it does that. Rivers have to go somewhere. When they don’t, it feels like nature has given up, and the apocalypse is beginning. Maybe it’s stopped up? Clogged? The sky’s a concrete ceiling, like you would see in a parking garage, holding up everything above it. Heavy as the dirt they’re going to throw on you when you die. She still hasn’t responded yet, and I’m not sure that she will. Tonight’s a lifting night. Squats. Christ, I hate squats. They burn right up from your knees, through your thighs and hips, to your lower spine, and sit in your gut like bad milk. I could squat three of her at once, but I can’t even talk properly to one of her. The river still is not moving, and I’m almost home now. Well…fuck the river, and fuck her.