temperance14 | Blather and piss

Up late. Trying to write in diary, here, or other book every night. Get the skills back that I let lapse in 2004. Pissed. Need to get to sleep. Have to cross the picket line tomorrow, which goes against my principle. But am backed up on work. If I am not in, and boss Cornelia Fudge assumes its due to union action, she be in a lovely position to move for disciplinary action. Or at least a warning letter. She'd be just in the mood.

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(yeah, yeah, will get back to memes). Practice last Thursday was small, due to movies and illness. Enjoyed, got to work on more complex dances. I still stink, but I enjoy the dances more since Placerville. Did Sticks. Switches, Challenging Shuttle, Sheepskin Heys. Yes, Loup-garou, I remembered.

Slipped outside partway through to enjoy the sunset with the PeatMossSidhe. We enjoyed the slow quiet time of day/year--very special feel to the weather, and sound. Just approaching sunset under trees in a quiet place in a quiet town. We talked about how fast everything seemed to be moving past us, and the longing to slow down, trying to enjoy slow pleasures, the frustration of trying to make real contact with people--thinking you've found open doors and finding painted walls.

I had told her in prior week(s) of my time spent in the rookery, and eeireness of it at sunset, or rather twilight, when the birds are coming home, and their noises comes together almost like half heard voices. We decided we needed to get to the grove and spend time with birds. We split and drove to save time, to get there by sunset. It was closer to twilight when we parked near the vet hospital. We walked into the oak grove. Last time, I could at least see the white (cranes? egrets?)and the blue herons above me. Now we saw silhouettes against what little sky we could see through the branches. Very still. No breezes rustling fallen leaves and branches as last. The birds were not as agitated--but still restless, and vocal, in all their ranges, moods, and timbres. We walked carefully through the leaves, feeling for fallen branches or gopher holes. Sidhe was very cautious about the birds overhead...she kept her hood up.

We left after about 10 or so minutes, walking back. We went around the white garden, along the lake, to the bridge near the transit yard. and the 5 oaks that I remembered as the rookery. Where my poetry teacher took us at night to see the blue heron and their nests close up. Told Sidge about going out with my poetry class and Prof Robertson, armed with little polaroid cameras for a modern haibun.

Then we stood on the bridge. Told her about coming out at night on occasions--and seeing all the duck flowing west to this bridge--some to roost on the banks, others going into the lake in the darkness. Just a massive, blending flow, small clatterings and quacks in the night. Nothing that night, as we watched the water.

Took her home, discussed her plans for summer/year/life. Told her she will be dearly missed. Very sorry I did not go a-maying with her.

Drove back to south side, got call from Giggles asking for the name of a book. Joined her at Borders. Then she, E and S, all of us returned to join battymaiden, ribben and Mandolin (who else was there?) at Plutos....and then very soon outside to a giggle fest. I thought we started talking about working for U, but ended up laughing and roaring about South Park.

Home again home again, shuttley shuttle.