![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i like my world cos it's mine
Dec. 18th, 2008 11:04 pmI've had an odd sort of day. Work was promoted from being merely a usual, somewhat dull workday to frustrating beyond the telling of it, when my drawer came up forty dollars short -- and this was after my replacement was terribly late. The supervisor who came to try to sort out my problem: every time she did the math again, the drawer got shorter. It was awful. Then I went into the back room to fetch my things (by this time I was ravenous, having been hungry since four), and the topmost locker fell on my head. This hurt, to be sure, but was mostly really upsetting. It was one of those ridiculous Things That Only Ever Happen To Me, such as tearing great holes in one's trousers by getting them caught on doorknobs, or -- well, colliding chin-first with a metal pole on one's first day of work, for example. Also I couldn't borrow a book because the people who are authorised to process such things were not in.
But -- have you ever had that feeling -- which is less of a feeling and more of a tasting or a hearing or a not-seeing -- that there is another world hovering just on the edge of this one? Or not the edge, as such -- behind the ever-fluttering curtain of this one. My head was full of it today. I don't know why: usually I get this sort of thing when I find myself in a very strange and beautiful place; woods, or a cathedral, or up on the hill behind my old house with a candle. There wasn't anything about me that seemed to be a link to some otherness. It was only there, catching at my thoughts. The curtain never parted -- I haven't had the flash in months, if not a full year -- but I could sense that there was a curtain.
I am going upstairs soon, and lighting up the candelabra, and lying on the bed with music.
(And: Moony seems to be back in working order -- it's a long story, and I don't even know how it worked out in the end, but I am very glad to have him back -- which means that The Mix is back in progress. It's really mostly finished; I just have to sort it out, and make cover art. Hurrah hurrah.)
But -- have you ever had that feeling -- which is less of a feeling and more of a tasting or a hearing or a not-seeing -- that there is another world hovering just on the edge of this one? Or not the edge, as such -- behind the ever-fluttering curtain of this one. My head was full of it today. I don't know why: usually I get this sort of thing when I find myself in a very strange and beautiful place; woods, or a cathedral, or up on the hill behind my old house with a candle. There wasn't anything about me that seemed to be a link to some otherness. It was only there, catching at my thoughts. The curtain never parted -- I haven't had the flash in months, if not a full year -- but I could sense that there was a curtain.
I am going upstairs soon, and lighting up the candelabra, and lying on the bed with music.
(And: Moony seems to be back in working order -- it's a long story, and I don't even know how it worked out in the end, but I am very glad to have him back -- which means that The Mix is back in progress. It's really mostly finished; I just have to sort it out, and make cover art. Hurrah hurrah.)
