Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Basia Bulat sings the lunar eclipse while I sip upon a mystery tea

It is the magical predawn, but I cannot sleep. And yet I have never been so tired. I am beyond tired, beyond fullness; beyond emptiness, too. I linger by my frost-sheered window and watch the moon go into hiding--I would howl at the damn thing were the night not so peaceful and serene. But instead I struggle to silence my mind and brew a cup of tea.

The kettle's on. I search the cupboard for some chamomile for I feel like the convalescent Peter Rabbit, but I do not find the leaves I seek. Rather I stumble upon a stray teabag of unknown origin. I sniff it but it remains mysterious. I drop it in the cup and pour the boiling water.

Ah, what a horrid, horrid day, I think, as I leave the tea to steep. I languish on the couch, robe hanging open, my weary eyes gazing at the diminishing moon. My affairs are not in order... I cannot think straight anymore--my thoughts don't just wander--they fall into the pit of mundanity and are drugged by the candy of spiritual starvation. There is little I can do... The modern world is, sadly, stronger than my soul's tide.

But at least I can drink this mystery tea. And, I chuckle to myself, I've noticed that the simple pleasures are intensified by the still predawn hours. The tea smells of nothing but warmth and tastes the same. I do not remember buying this?

Let us put on some music... Something befitting of the predawn, of the lunar eclipse, of the mystery tea. Ah, yes, Basia Bulat--the modern equivalent of a woodland nymph. Her voice warbles and echoes throughout my den as I take another sip. What is this brew? It tastes of nothing, perhaps nothing with a hint of hazelnut.

I think of Julian of Norwich and how she saw the world inside a hazelnut. Perhaps we were not so different, she and I.

Except for the whores and the drugs... Oh Julian, I'm sorry, my dear... I am weak and have given up trying to change. Come out of your little cell tonight, just for me. It is a night for ghosts.

I almost drop...

Ah yes, the moon! It is nearly gone... There is no eye watching me tonight, seeing if I'm on my best behaviour. For a moment I cease to exist. A perfect night to die in the cold...

Yes, now I know... Now I remember. I have had this tea before. It is the kind that gives me mad dreams and madder erections. The night will be lovely but the day will be dreadful. So be it.

With legs like lead, I stumble off to bed.

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