Sunday, August 10, 2008

Provincetown 37

I took three days off from the book because:

1. I was getting way too close to the material and couldn't see the forest for the trees, and
2. I needed to work on syllabi and teaching portfolio materials for school.

Yesterday, I took a walk into town to clear my head. I had coffee, and then went into some shops. Until yesterday, I hadn't been into most of these places. I bought a book about angels and an art magazine. I also went into Tim's used bookstore and found a beautiful volume of Haiku poems. It's a tiny thing, published in 1955-56 by Peter Pauper Press. Reading through the Haiku I suddenly got an idea for a story, a simple story, a child's story, perhaps, or a teaching story like Jesus would tell. I could see the whole thing clearly in my mind. I made some preliminary notes and did a small art project. Now I feel ready to write the story. I plan to write it today.

Usually, now, when I write a story it's in the back of my mind what I will do with it: where I will send it for possible publication. This time, I just want to write the story. I am really looking forward to writing it.

This is going to provide a nice break from the book. I've worked the field of that book so much, grown so many crops there, that it needs to lie fallow for a while.

My time here is quickly approaching an end. Allen will join me here again on the evening of the 20th. We will spend a couple of days playing, and then it will be time to teach again on the 25th. What an incredible experience this has been!

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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
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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.

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My Original Artwork:  Triptych

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