Saturday, December 15, 2007

The last few days

1. Fog settled low over the gray fields. It lasted all day.
2. I watched a woman in tight pants carrying a paper sack by the handles. She was a large woman and her hips were beautiful as they swayed inside the pants. The sack seemed empty. She passed a building which had been blocking the wind. I watched the wind blow the sack behind her as she held fast to the handles. I couldn't stop looking at her and became so involved in watching her that I didn't think about the wind as I, too, passed the building. The wind blew off my hat. The hat went tumbling over the wet ground. I chased it but couldn't get it until it, mysteriously, stopped and lay still long enough for me to pick it up. Allen was waiting for me in the truck. He didn't see me. He was looking at The New Yorker!
3. I had lunch today with my friend Debbie at Call of the Canyon Cafe. She paid! We had a great window seat. I thought I saw a snowflakes now and then.
4. When we left the cafe, I told Deb, "It's colder now!" She said it just seemed that way because all the blood was flowing to our stomachs to help digest our meal. That made sense! It was a good time.
5. Allen and I stopped by the grocery store to stockpile items for the snowstorm which is supposed to arrive sometime tomorrow.
6. I read a very good short story by Tobias Wolff. "In the Garden of North American Martyrs."
7. I read two essays about Wallace Stevens's poetry.

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Dreaming

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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken

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Fave Painting: Eden

Fave Painting:  Eden

Fave Painting: The Three Ages of Man and Death

Fave Painting:  The Three Ages of Man and Death
by Albrecht Dürer

From the First Chapter

The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

My Original Artwork: Triptych

My Original Artwork:  Triptych

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