The before-mentioned problem-question was stuck in my head 'til past 2am so I didn't get any sleep til then. Set my alarm clock for 8.30am (which is, of course, any idiot's definition of impossiblity) and got up long enough to switch it off when it rang. after a few minutes (what felt like it), I got up and groggily looked at the clock. 15 minutes to 3pm! A terrible moment: my head was blocked with the problem that has to materialize into 5000 words by the 12th (or rather, panic was blocking my head), I felt drained and sick and blah, and I missed mass. I pulled up the duvet and hid.

Some (more) moments later, I decided to get up and face reality, and saw it was 10am.

*scratches head*

It must have been 9.15am I misrecognized (which Freud or Lacan, I can't remember, believes we all do when we look into the mirror, so I don't feel so bad)

problem question

frog-style, dog-paddle, breast-stroke, sink
my head is swimming
how do I link this:

STRANGER:
To distinguish the name from the thing, implies duality.
THEAETETUS:
Yes.
STRANGER:
And yet he who identifies the name with the thing will be compelled to say that it is the name of nothing, or if he says that it is the name of something, even then the name will only be the name of a name, and of nothing else.
THEAETETUS:
True.
Sophist (Part IV)by Plato (tr. B. Jowett)

to this:


Metamorphosis of Narcissus 1937 Salvador Dali

Question mark.

And besides this infinitesimal problem, a BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Alex (Chomp Chomp is a goooood place), a salivating mouthful of praise for Cheryl's wonderful pics (tell me where and when you will be in Italy! I might be there around then too!), a miss-you-too-poke for Jo, and a I-left-a-message-on-your-blog to Frances *hee*

but you

Your love is amazing, steady and unchanging
Your love is a mountain firm beneath my feet
Your love is a mystery, how you gently lift me
When I am surrounded
Your love carries me

I've moved my desk so that now I can sit at it and look out from my window, small as it is (the desk, the window, me). From where I am the afternoon's clouded sunlight falls in just enough to create a dim embrace around my shadow and I look out at the slowly blossoming tree in my neighbour's backyard. It looks like a cherry tree, really, because its branches reveal more clusters of red buds every passing spring day. But then I've just looked it up on Google images and what people call cherry trees appear to be lighter pink with many more petals. Still, I may be right as time passes and people, i mean things grow and everything changes. 'but you...', reminiscing a Take That song.

Yes, but You.