Nights

Night 1

 

Later that day, he curiously checked his right big toe and its nail to find that the latter was not two centimetres long with a deep triangular gash running from well into its cuticle to its edge. I say curiously because he sincerely was not sure if he had dreamed it or not. Time and the clock and day and night had started doing odd things either to his mind or to everything not his mind.

Next morning, he was supervising a test and an old man was the only test-taker. He checked the test of the man and saw there on the page written in a fine hand the perfect answers to the admittedly vague questions. He vowed to remember the last answer, which was in the form of a grid, but minutes later it had escaped his memory entirely.

And then, that evening, he simply had to check the nail of his right big toe again, and he saw it was long and gashed, and he realized everything had been a signal of something, for the gash was in the exact shape of the grid the elderly man had drawn. But what did it possibly mean?

 

 

Night 2

 

I was sitting in the food court, under the Crystal Palace, minding my own business, a week or so ago. Which isn't quite true, because I was awaiting something, some foodstuffs or other, as I sat there minding. The call came out: "Your order is ready": and I got up from the seat, and started scanning for cash. I found a bundle of bills, and I sorted them out, walking up to the counter, fives tens and twenties. The order was large: largest I'd seen: two trays full, all cheeseburgers and fries. The cashier then said: "That'll be sixty-two-fifty": three twenties I found, along with a five, but a wily ten-spot, entwined by a corner, folded down carelessly, got carried along. Meanwhile I vocalized: "Here's sixty-five dollars": handing it over, that seventy-five. He dropped it atop the till, started counting out change, as I tried to figure out how to correct my error. I said to him: "Sorry, I gave you too much": he counted the bills, then gave me back ten. I took the two trays straight back to my table, unwrapped a burger, and started to eat, the ten in my pocket, and Doris my mistress.

 

 

Night 3

 

In the middle of the night, when the sun is furthest away, at real midnight, that's the time for silence. The land has a moment to catch its breath, ponder what's past and what's to come. It's not a time to store up austerities, since there's so little energy to become stored. Thus, the local gods can take a breather too, seeing as how they are then threatened least by upstarts.

("Hey, Loki, how you doing?" "Well, it's midnight, so all those brahmas can't overturn me at the moment. So, I'm good.")

Since we conquered the night with electricity, it's hard to find stillness at midnight. Consequently, we have to make due with 2:30, when the bars have closed and the parties are done. Go out, and what's awake? Maybe some worms who don't believe there's much of a difference between day and night. Silly worms.

The trees are sleeping too or they are, what do you call it? somnolescent? Sure, they're still growing some, but there's no energy being produced. Oh, but bamboo: I understand you can hear it creaking as it grows through the night.

Also, disconnected thoughts really enjoy coming out in these midnight hours.

 

 

Night 4

 

In the dark of night, the two bags of garden-waste busted apart when I tried to pick them up to carry them to the curb. In both cases I had to get another bag to put the busted bags into, and though this took a lot of strain and lower-back, I got them both looking right and onto the curb, ready to be removed in the morning.

(She went out for her evening stroll up to the park as I worked on my computer. I heard the rain start; when she came back, she was drenched.)

I finished my work up and went to bed. The rain was continuing though not as monumentally as before. It was at that point that I thought about those bags, and how wet they were getting, and how in the morning they would break when the garden-waste gatherer tried to lift them, and he would curse me, and the curse would stick to my skin.

(I said to her: "I can't sleep. I have to bring those bags in.")

I get dressed and went outside in the rain. I brought the bags inside and went back to bed. Now, to sleep, peacefully.