A Ridiculous Injury

This early afternoon I was in too much of a hurry, rushing from a classroom down a hill via sloping walkways punctuated by steps and walkways and steps.  I felt I needed to hustle to get materials from my truck in the lower parking lot beyond the soccer field before my office hours.

So, I was rushing downhill, not really watching my footing, and right before the second set of steps my right foot came down on a small pinecone that turned under my ankle and my ankle turned with it, rolling.  I had such momentum going forward, a heavy pack of books on my back and another bag of papers and files on my shoulder, that I could not just stop.  Instead, gravity was sending me forward without any gravitas whatsoever.  I was going to fall, but falling down the set of steps seemed too fraught--I feared for my teeth and my skull, so I leapt and ran, lunging and launching myself even as I dropped one bag.

I "ran" down the steps, barely keeping my feet, that ankle protesting, ran down the steps and the next ramp--impossible to halt until I had run out all that momentum, had jumped a flowerbed, and had landed, sprawling on the sloping lawn.  So lucky in this mild misfortune.

Luckily, the wind was not blowing, so the papers that had fallen and scattered from that bag had not gone far.  One witness to my running-fall insisted on helping me gather the materials, insisted on telling me where the Health Center was.  I hobbled to my office time, late now.

Hours later, after ibuprofen, I am icing the ankle again and, also, icing a dram of rum.

I had to hurry, you know?


4/19/19 Further reflections:


The whole thing felt like one of those dreams in which gravity doesn't quite exist, dreams in which we run and leap and find ourselves too far from earth, too far from safety . . . and then gravity returns.  It was both hilarious and humiliating, both scary and beyond fear or thought.  I am glad I kept going, you know, for anything less would have resulted in injury, serious falling, and the strain on my ankle is from that first rolling.  Lucky me, seriously.

Also, when I limped past the scene of the crime this morning, I was chagrined to find that the whole thing -- from pinecone to lawn-sprawl -- only comprised about ten yards of territory.  And, the second "ramp" was actually flat pavement, though leading to another flight of steps, which made the flowerbed hop (not "vault," as I first wrote) and lawn-roll mandatory.

P.S.  About three weeks ago, I strained the other ankle by not paying sufficient attention, so there's a lesson for me, for me.

Pictish Warrior?

I've decked out my clay mask (Autumn/Winter) with a leather medieval helmet and a plaid muffler --for the fun of it.

Hold Fast

The Drowned Man: Mask.

The Drowned Man: A Mask

Here's another vision, another version, of what "The Drowned Man" voices to me . . . despite those tightly held lips.

"Consider Phlebas" in another context.

"Hail and farewell" from another vantage, from yet another angle.

"Winter is a-coming in" --Ezra Pound? or some anonymous medieval poet?

A Dancer From Atlantis

DETAIL:  Pit-fired goddess: sculpture mix; copper wire.
40-minute exercise with model.

Atlantis sank beneath the sea when a well-meaning man made yet another thunderous blunder . . . ?  No, that happens all the time, sad to say.  (The Kardios/Wellman conceit, for those who know.)  I wonder what Virgil would have said about Atlantis and the perils of burning desire, what Homer would have said about the pitfalls of pride and Atlantis' final days.   I can guess what Archilochos and Sappho would have said, yet I still wish we had such utterances--in the most embracing poetics--here to read.  I'd learn Greek to do so, I think.  Odd thoughts after a long and hot day.

(Anachronistic thinking?  Where did Plato get his ideas anyway, I mean, besides from Socrates?  Sail west, Athenians.  Sail west beyond Sicily, beyond the Pillars of Heracles, beyond the Isles of Tin, and then hang a sharp right--or was that an easy left?)

Autumn Dreams

The Sleeper: sculpture mix; nutmeg and shino glazing, layered; leather cord.  (Vintage 2005: one of the first pieces I considered wholly successful.)

Fall Begins

 Tumbler (Pictish): sculpture mix; pit-fired
. . . years and years ago on Ocean Beach.

Live model: 20-minute gestural exercise.

To Autumn