Bodies, Rest and Motion.

I can't tell if I'm tired or if I'm bored.

I do nothing but work. I don't say this so as to play the martyr or to fish for accolades. It's just the truth. I've always been like this.

But tonight I just feel this . . . blah. I know that a few months from now I'll probably look back on this time alone as a lovely respite, when whatever will be will have become. And I'm really quite relaxed by all this working because I'm retreating from the day to day otherwise. All of my social connections right now exist via the internet and with people who live far away. Physically, I am only in contact with my co-workers and my students.

But this is not physical contact. There is an intellectual and emotional distance between me and all of those near my physical body. I have no physical, corporeal contact with anyone.

Except Mojo, but admitting that is just pathetic, really.

I don't miss the drama that's associated with living with people, or dating someone, or having girlfriends around. I'm a bit of an anchoress right now, shut in but working very hard in order to open my doors. But I miss physical bodies, intimate bodies. The bodies that steam the windows when taking a shower and leave wet footprints on the floor. The ones who exhale smoke. The ones that tangle up in mine when we sleep.