Saturday, June 07, 2008

Provincetown 12

I've been up since nine this morning, unusual for me, since I'm a night person. But I tried for weeks to get acclimated to a day schedule so Allen and I could enjoy P-Town for the week that he is with me. I arose and had a glass of V-8, took a shower: I have the tiniest shower. I'm a bath person and worried about that, but the water here is far superior to that of Ohio, and my skin feels clean. All in all, life is happy here.

Allen was out on the fishing pier filming the commercial fishermen this morning, and, amazingly, one of them invited him to go along on the boat today. So he will be out in the Atlantic for six hours getting a taste of what commercial fishing is really like. The men who do the work are a rough lot, pants cut off just below the knees and Tee-shirts all covered with stains. I wrote a letter to my friend Julie and walked to the post office to mail it. I stopped by the truck to open the truck cap windows wider for Buddha and Sweet Pea, give them some water, and pet them awhile, and then came straight here to the lounge. In the background, I can hear Hillary giving her concession/unity speech: there is a TV here, but I understand it will be removed in a week or so.


It's warm today, and should get up to 85 or so tomorrow, but then it will cool down again, they say. Commercial street is the busiest I've seen it since we arrived.

I did my research on the Homestead Strike and thought more about how to proceed with the novel. I'm going to head back to my apartment now and try to get some words down.

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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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