Augustus, a feast
Where gods and goddesses dined
Food shortage, scandal
Friday, August 27, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
SS 1.0
“Our time, unfortunately, is out,” Campbell told me shortly after I arrived.
“I don’t know what that means. Am I leaving?”
She nodded and I peeled myself off the leather couch. “I just got here, though,” I said when I got to my feet.
“I know. I just don’t think we can take this conversation any further. Maybe you should go home, calm down a little bit. Then we can resume this. Does that sound alright?”
I bit my lip and thought about her proposition. “I guess that sounds okay,” I replied, “But I don’t understand why –”
“Look, I said we were finished discussing this right now. I mean it. I can’t handle talking to you anymore. Not right now. It’s just so frustrating. It’s so…you’re just too intense. My heart pounds and I feel like I’m going to scream. Like I need to scream.” She seemed calm to me. As calm as could be expected, I guess. Maybe less calm, though.
“It’s frustrating for me too, you know.”
“Maybe so, but I told you we’re done for now.” She grabbed me gently but still somehow forcefully by the arm and led me to the door.
“I’ll call you soon,” I said. She opened the door behind me.
“Alright. Have a nice afternoon.”
I stood in the doorway and thought about what was happening, the absurdity of the whole situation. “This has never happened to me before. It’s kind of weird. It’s making me really self-conscious. Like, what is wrong with me that she has to do this? That she can’t bear to talk to me anymore –”
“I know, I know it’s strange. It’s not really you; I just can’t do this right now. And that’s not entirely true – it is you, somewhat. But not really. I promise.” She smiled and I thought her teeth might jump out of her mouth and attack me.
“Were you a cheerleader?” I asked.
“What? No. We’ll talk later.”
“I don’t really think this is how psychiatrists are supposed to act with their patients,” I suggested. Then she shut the door in my face.
“I don’t know what that means. Am I leaving?”
She nodded and I peeled myself off the leather couch. “I just got here, though,” I said when I got to my feet.
“I know. I just don’t think we can take this conversation any further. Maybe you should go home, calm down a little bit. Then we can resume this. Does that sound alright?”
I bit my lip and thought about her proposition. “I guess that sounds okay,” I replied, “But I don’t understand why –”
“Look, I said we were finished discussing this right now. I mean it. I can’t handle talking to you anymore. Not right now. It’s just so frustrating. It’s so…you’re just too intense. My heart pounds and I feel like I’m going to scream. Like I need to scream.” She seemed calm to me. As calm as could be expected, I guess. Maybe less calm, though.
“It’s frustrating for me too, you know.”
“Maybe so, but I told you we’re done for now.” She grabbed me gently but still somehow forcefully by the arm and led me to the door.
“I’ll call you soon,” I said. She opened the door behind me.
“Alright. Have a nice afternoon.”
I stood in the doorway and thought about what was happening, the absurdity of the whole situation. “This has never happened to me before. It’s kind of weird. It’s making me really self-conscious. Like, what is wrong with me that she has to do this? That she can’t bear to talk to me anymore –”
“I know, I know it’s strange. It’s not really you; I just can’t do this right now. And that’s not entirely true – it is you, somewhat. But not really. I promise.” She smiled and I thought her teeth might jump out of her mouth and attack me.
“Were you a cheerleader?” I asked.
“What? No. We’ll talk later.”
“I don’t really think this is how psychiatrists are supposed to act with their patients,” I suggested. Then she shut the door in my face.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Rondel II
When first I heard her honey’d tone,
Ensnared was I, by timbre bold.
Though bitterness had taken hold,
Her fervor kindled heat unknown.
Fissures arose, through which light shone
(Ere venom spewed out uncontrolled),
When first I heard her honey’d tone,
Ensnared was I, by timbre bold.
Behold, as Moses split the stone -
Stricken, riven, my heart of cold,
Mollified by her heart of gold;
Blood sprang forth, sanguinity sown,
When first I heard her honey’d tone.
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