Call a Somnambulance!
Words from a fairly sleepless night.
There is something in the air. I feel like swallowing it down but I would only lose my breath and that is hardly a thing to be wished, not devoutly anyhow. If I am blind, now where does the sight prevail? The lost sensibilities have gone floating on the air? Swelled high and surged within, the inner sight of the blindman prophet? I don’t know that I could ever hope to be a prophet. Uyalala of the Southern Oracle, I wish I had a lovely voice. Does grief come tied in a knot? Not naught knot I am repeating myself again, America. Howsomever I am always half-awake or half-asleep, it all depends on whether you want to be the optimist or the pessismist today. If you wish, I could do you the coutesy of hyphenating: to-day, of course it is not a courtesy, it would be priggish of me to say so and truly mean the thing. What about the morally superior? Do they think about superiority? Or is it a long bootwalk all hills and valleys and sometimes plains, and you have to keep your eyes trained straight ahead since the way is so straight and so narrow? No side-glancers here. I would I were a cloud would I would you would you be with me? Whether the weather would change for the worse, I cannot predict. Rain down rain down, rain down Your love on Your people, you see. Ticking of the clock or whirring of the fan – which is the preferable? Tick tick whir were you at the station yesterday evening at five o’clock? I would speak with you if I had a you and you had a me and then we could keep each other some fine company. Will you m-m-marr – oh, dear, I seem to have a cough, a trifle. Thank you, thank you, the hankerchief will do just fine. It must be late, the clocks are ticking tocking telling me the time is getting late, it must be the truth, there are no lies in the telling of absolutes when the absolutes are not relatively false, when all is told when all is settled in the books. I thought I told you once I loved you. I had forgotten to say? Oh, well, do know that it is true, in the very truest sense, I mean. I went for a walk and a gentleman in front of the store was sitting on the bench and he said, Sir, what a fine beautiful morning it is and he was not talking to me, I could tell, his eyes were fastened on the sky, which was clear and blue as a robin egg, and that was an enlightened man. I renounced sleep ages ago, I am aging very well. How could I tell you the thing I wanted to tell you on an empty stomach? Dratted cough, come back again if you will! I shake my fist at the Heavens, but I don’t mean to blaspheme. I say the Lord’s Prayer every night and I cross myself before supper. The windmills are in the hills and they are tireless, what energy they have. I fear I am tired and a little tiresome. Where are the trees? Mr. Nash, I say, where are the trees! The billboards are boarding up the town… what a bore! what a monstropolous thing! The dark is kissing the stars, it is the bad man and the good girl all over again, they rendezvous nightly, or so it is reputed in this little town. I keep my windows open for the breeze. The breeze and I we talk sometimes like old buddies old pals. The breeze is nice, doesn’t say too much but cools you down all the times you’re hot and bothered, you know. Uncompanioned cherry tree, except for you, to others I am unknown. I walked on the plain I walked on the plain I wish I had a lovely face, mirror mirror, I am walking the plank, catch me if you can, oh meet me in the rye! I love you, did I forget to say that this morning? I was boiling eggs and if one is boiling eggs one cannot be occupied otherwise, it is a very serious thing. Immensely, if I may venture the word. Pretty ugly, I would say. Prett-y prett-y ug-ly what a day what a face what a day! O mirror if you do crack I blame only myself, cast the stone upon me! The glass has already broken, the stone-throw will not matter a whit. Not a whit of wit in that mind of yours, that mind of mine, I am talking to myself again, America. Please read me a poem. I will not stint, I gave her a poem to say to say she would stay. Clock the time o clock the time! The tarts are burning to a crisp! I marked them with a K, but I forgot what for. Kafka, he would loathe these tarts! Let us throw them in the rubbish, like a good man would. Oh, boy, oh, boy! If I had half a mind to punch you in the stomach, I wouldn’t. Achoo! achoo! My mother is very well, yes, yes, thank you. A little pollen in the air. A trifle a trifle. The world is rotating on its axis a hair faster than normal, I think that may cause eclipse tonight. Astronomy was astrology in the olden times, you know, although you could very well say the reverse, I do not know how you interpret things of such delicate nature. Very well very well. Oh, my, balloons are bursting over your head, what a shame they are not filled with paper planes. Glide with me we will away, we will abscond with an umbrella and a Homburg hat. The glissading is not too difficult, if only you will give it a try. I fancy boarding a ship before we take the plane, that way our stomachs cannot drop. How could I tell you the thing I wanted to tell you on an empty stomach? I am telling you now, listen! if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times! The milk, listen! is going bad. I dropped a coin into the paper cup for the, listen! If I’ve told you once, I thought I let the cat outside. The fur is flying everywhere! I will not argue for the sake of argument. My life is an argument, my argument I mean to say, Mr. Schweitzer meant to say, I meant to say it was he who said the thing. Do not swat – the fly! There will be no swatting in my h-h-how’s about we settle down and not talk, nice and quiet, for a little while?