On the train this morning, I was struck by the beauty of a passage in 'The Guermantes Way' -- which admittedly has some verrrry slow sections -- in which Proust describes the death of his grandmother. 'At the foot of the bed,' he writes, 'convulsed by every gasp of the dying woman, not weeping but at moments drowned in tears, my mother stood with the heedless devotion of leaves lashed by the rain and torn back by the wind.'
I wish I could say it inspired me to do great things today, but the truth is that I went to work, just like I almost always do; I like to think that the impact of art is not always immediate, but is rather a type of accretion on which we may one day stand to gain a better view of the world around us.
At lunch I went outside, where -- on my way to the gym -- I occupied myself trying to think of a clever way to tweet the idea that, except for the winter weather, it felt very much like a summer day. (I ultimately failed in this endeavor.)
Crossing Madison Avenue, I was almost run over by 50,000 taxi cabs.
On my way back from the gym, I admired a statue of an eagle, one of a pair that reside on Park Avenue.
Back at work, time passed. I took a break at one point to visit my tumblr, where I was somewhat dismayed to find that someone had posted a rather snide response to one of my 'lolcat pix.' Rather than 'rise above' and ignore it, I succumbed to the temptation to 'reblog,' adding an equally snide and infantile response. Any satisfaction I felt about making this gesture quickly evolved into a deeper sense of melancholy and regret; I probably would have just deleted the blog post, but alas, it was too late and others -- such is the internet! -- had already reblogged, adding their own comments (both snide and earnest). Going forward, I resolved not to let such things get the better of me, and instead to simply 'unfollow' those who appear not to appreciate my brand of tumblring/writing/insight/stupidity/etc/etc.
On the way out of work, I decided to take a 'Gratuitous Picture of Yourself Wednesday,' or GPOYW. I remembered how in the 1990s, jackets like this were harder to come by, and I had a few 'vintage' ones that I found on tour, and how my old bandmate Jennifer used to encourage me to wear 'monochromatic' outfits not too different than the one I had on today. Of course, what once may have seemed unusual now seems very 'run of the mill' (thanks to a decade or more of heavy khaki advertising by ___, ____, ____, and ___), so it was more the memory than the actual effect that brought me any pleasure.
What did bring me pleasure was a perfect commute home; I caught the D-train at 34th and managed to get a seat, on which I slept soundly between 59th and 125th, waking up just in time to catch the C-local to Washington Heights. At the house I was also pleased to see an arrangement of tulips that someone had placed in the living room.
Nor could I pretend to be anything but exhilarated by the arrival of a bulb catalog, filled with an array of dahlias, which Stephen and I have already decided is going to be one of our 'star plants' this year. With so many beautiful varieties, I could hardly imagine how we would be able to choose!
Outside, the bridge resembled a glowing necklace of pearls. In a few months, I thought, I would arrive home in time to see the sunset, this after stopping in at the garden to check on our new flowers, which with any luck will be reaching up for the sky.
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