The calendar reveals a falling away of days, as does the light that changes with the earth’s slight tilt and the urgency with which cicadas call to one another.
The new semester begins soon.
Indolence is becoming sparse, time for staring out windows at a premium. Already my dreams are peppered with classroom scenarios and visions of students misunderstanding the purpose of peer review. The books in my bags and on my bedside table have transformed from fiction & poetry, a graphic novel or two, to texts and opinions on pedagogy.
These next two weeks will slip through my fingers as if I were grasping water.
I cannot keep time from fleeing, but today I will embrace the casual.
Casual as in relaxed and unconcerned, as in not regular or permanent. As in irregular.
Casual as in eating out of the refrigerator, watching old movies with bad reviews, sitting on the broken lawn chair on the front porch even though the weather is hot and humid, wearing pjs for most of the day.
I mean ˈkaZHo͞oəl/, as in acting without sufficient care or thoroughness, puttering around the house, starting projects and not finishing them. Mooching.
And maybe later it will mean a happenstance discovery of a good deal at the local record store (it is vinyl Saturday, after all) and grabbing a iced something from a local someplace.
Just as long as it is informal,
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