You would think, with ten days to go in the countdown, I’d be feverishly working on something.
Alas, the fact is that I stayed up till 2:30 a.m. finishing Deathly Hallows, and today I had to clear the living room of my packing crates. My brain is still trying to reconcile that I’m not in the Land of PDM any more. These are my streets I’m walking down, my bed I’m sleeping in now, not some bizarre facsimile, and it’s still not right.
The brain rebels. That curious feeling I noted before, of a sense of unreality as I walked through the campus, I have now identified: it was relief. Now, I sit in my club chair in the living room, looking out onto College Street, wondering what Roger’s last name is so I can call him to come fix the air conditioner in my attic study, wondering what I’ll do tonight. There is no concert. There is no culminating event. There is not a steady stream of people barging in on me, asking my opinion or giving theirs. There is no laughter from the lobby, no memory of some wonderful class I’ve seen today, no anticipation of tomorrow’s events. I have to deal with the openness of reality.
It’s far too hot to work in my study, so any extended creative work is out of the question for the moment. I could go for a walk with my music Moleskine (remember that passage in my life?) and try to come up with more songs for Day in the Moonlight, or begin sketching out the symphony. But my brain won’t work.