I want to carve a sphinx
I want to carve a sphinx. That’s what I want to do, among other impractical things. I also want to build a cathedral and carve the gargoyles too. I’d like to help carve that Crazy Horse monument if they’re still working on it. I want to build Stonehenge.
Maybe this is symptomatic of some kind of grandiosity disorder. Disorder is, I sometimes think, the only order I have. But I like to make things. Things that are nice to look at. Big things that are nice to look at. Big things that will last a very long time that are nice to look at. Pyramids are big things that last a very long time and are nice to look at, but I don’t want to build pyramids. Pyramids are a little too plain. Boring to build, and hard if you’re the one pulling the block up the sandy ramp.
I want to dig a cave that’s huge and beautiful and lit in some enchanting way. And with side passageways that connect with other caves and passageways that go down to where it’s hot and you could put in a geothermal pool to frolic in, maybe ringed by some classical columns. And an urn or two, for sure. (Did anyone see photos of that underground space they carved in NY for a new subway line?)
I don’t talk about these secret (not so secret anymore) desires, because when I do, I discover that these are not exactly universal fantasies. And as far as I know there is no fetish website for large-scale monument-art construction. But I still don’t think it’s all so very shameful.
A spring in my step!
Yes I did have a spring in my step as we began this dank new week with an ice storm and I ventured out into the 5am freezing rain at this happ-happiest time of the year.
I get up so early because I am a ‘morning person’ (the only one) and the Metro starts running at 5 am and I want to be first on the train with my lunch bag filled with pb&j and nectarines, and my bright, eager expression, ready for opportunity and adventure.
But on THIS December Monday, the sparking ice-laden branches were undershadowed by an skating-rink glaze upon every walking surface. And my Metro stop is up a long hill from my door. Not a problem! Because I have a pair of ice-gripping devices I can put on over my shoes! How cool is that, in the non-fashionable sense of the word cool? They consist of long ¼ inch springs running this way and that along the soles, to thwart the evil intentions of a slope of ice. And up the shining hill I merrily clatter.
But there really IS reason for sproinginess in the land, as I am in the habit of reporting each year at this time. Because of the curvature of the earth and the wobblitude of space-time, the shortest afternoon of the year has already passed, BEFORE the actual shortest day of the year, and now sunsets will be a smidgeon later each and every day than they were the day before. The ice and the snow and the chill can continue to gather their nasty strength in the days ahead, but the light begins its return, and the seeds of returning long summer days have already begun to sprout their curlicues.