it's not just the calling off decision i took earlier this week, though that may likely set the groundwork for this state. i'm sure my not being in full fine fiddle is in play, too.
my recent superstitiousness surrounding hunches, or the flavor of the air, or the feeling in the gut, the chest--- whatever it's about, it strikes me, after it's done doing what i put it there to do, and as superstition should at this point, as a bad sign regarding recovery that's supposed to be accomplished by now.
several of the silly thoughts i've been thinking would be so childishly chagrinningly embarrassing here that i think we're all better off with me not "sharing." (sharing like sharing the plague.)
i've been thinking tonight that i'd really like to make this new year feel fresh and clean, with me standing in the place where i live and the time that i'm in and looking forward to the year's unfolding. i'm not jewish, but the new year so VERY starts in the fall. day after labor day, specifically. it's not just my academic family origin, or my own many early years of schooling around that calendar; it's that fall is, of course, the true season of rebirth. to a seasoned, salty poet, vs. a simple-headed seasonal naturist. fall is rebirth of the 'rebirth of wonder' sort, cuz it's only in fall that we love a season the way we do when we can smell long, cold winter in the air. autumn is the season that comes around again and reminds us, afresh and anew, that there's a limit to things coming around again: the primal notion, to my mind.
fall is the season of rebirth and renewal for those who don't deny death.
maybe there's something in that line i can use.