I'd wait all night just to see you
Every now and then I remember I spent a semester of my sophomore year at college being the mysterious semi-comic figure in someone else's school story and I feel like I peaked at nineteen.
I had agreed to run the projector for a professor of mine who used slides in her Greek art and archaeology class. I thought it would be like auditing, which I was doing for several other classes already on top of my maxed-out schedule because I had stamina in those days. The class convened at eight in the morning. Slides are shown in a darkened room. I did not sleep enough even then. It was consequently the recurring experience of the students that the professor would call for the next slide and nothing would happen for a beat or so and then there would be a sort of flailing rattle up at the top of the auditorium and the next slide would hit the screen. It was my overall experience that I remember discussion of the archaic smile and Knossos and Arthur Evans and then I think I slept from the eruption of Thera through the end of the Ptolomies. Years later it turned out that someone who is now a friend of mine had technically encountered me first in the person of the unseen assistant who kept falling asleep mid-lecture, identity but not circadian rhythms unknown.
I tell this story by way of explaining that I am so much not a morning person that under ordinary circumstances nothing short of personal or national emergency could get me on a train at six-thirty-aargh in the morning, but I have tickets to see the National Yiddish Theatre's Fiddler on the Roof with![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skygiants this afternoon and for that it appears I'll get up at too-dark-thirty, because I did. (The train was of course then briefly but nerve-wrackingly delayed.)
There's a rather nice, rose-clouded sunrise going on. [edit] Banks of mist over fields of cattails among autumn-gold birch trees, all suffused pink as a Technicolor fog machine. A kind of conch-bronze light on the changing hillsides. I just passed a pylon the color of shakudo. I should clearly be awake at this hour more often. The world looks weird.
I had agreed to run the projector for a professor of mine who used slides in her Greek art and archaeology class. I thought it would be like auditing, which I was doing for several other classes already on top of my maxed-out schedule because I had stamina in those days. The class convened at eight in the morning. Slides are shown in a darkened room. I did not sleep enough even then. It was consequently the recurring experience of the students that the professor would call for the next slide and nothing would happen for a beat or so and then there would be a sort of flailing rattle up at the top of the auditorium and the next slide would hit the screen. It was my overall experience that I remember discussion of the archaic smile and Knossos and Arthur Evans and then I think I slept from the eruption of Thera through the end of the Ptolomies. Years later it turned out that someone who is now a friend of mine had technically encountered me first in the person of the unseen assistant who kept falling asleep mid-lecture, identity but not circadian rhythms unknown.
I tell this story by way of explaining that I am so much not a morning person that under ordinary circumstances nothing short of personal or national emergency could get me on a train at six-thirty-aargh in the morning, but I have tickets to see the National Yiddish Theatre's Fiddler on the Roof with
skygiants this afternoon and for that it appears I'll get up at too-dark-thirty, because I did. (The train was of course then briefly but nerve-wrackingly delayed.)There's a rather nice, rose-clouded sunrise going on. [edit] Banks of mist over fields of cattails among autumn-gold birch trees, all suffused pink as a Technicolor fog machine. A kind of conch-bronze light on the changing hillsides. I just passed a pylon the color of shakudo. I should clearly be awake at this hour more often. The world looks weird.
no subject
So beautiful--we all should be up at that hour more often, to see those wonders.
no subject
I really don't dislike mornings per se. I just dislike not sleeping before them.