'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.
'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'
I've had bits of "The Waste Land" rattling around in my head today. Not sure why. It feels like I am being admonished by my brain for not reading as much as I used to, for not reading enough poetry lately, for not thinking deeply enough. Or maybe it is a new form of procrastination? Perhaps I won't notice I haven't written my paper on Autism if I am rereading poems of my youth and researching references? Seems to be working. Still no paper written, but several critical analyses of The Journey of the Magi and Anne Sexton's "Hurry Up Please it's Time"read.
I used to think that the line, "Hurry Up Please It's Time", from Part II of "the Wasteland" was so haunting, as if the speaker were invoking death. I chanted it as a mantra throughout high school. It wasn't until college that I found out the reference refers to the closing call at British pubs. So much nicer than the calls here, which usually go something like, "finish your fucking drink and get the fuck out". Don't you think?