Friday, July 25, 2014

July 25, 2014

I don’t know what I was dreaming, but I woke while the dream was uttering the line, “and we went to live in the stone city of the Nabateans.”

Mother’s birthday. She would have been ninety today– the same age as my house. That is a startling thought, for I think of the house as very old indeed, as something from a bye-gone age, and I never think of her that way. For she never was. She never saw her 50th year. It’s hard for a child not to know whether his mother loved him or just sort endured him. I have always assumed the best, and then let evidence wear down the golden edifices through time. But. . . no matter now.

It is a comfort–amid all these things–to understand that when the writing all but writes itself, then it is right.

The sky’s an odd green-gray before dawn.

Cut down the last of my black walnuts. Its revenge was that it was covered in ticks.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

July 24, 2014

Watched an old Tarzan movie, Tarzan’s Secret Treasure, which I probably saw in my youth a dozen times. Get to hear Jane’s operatic screech. Boy pursues a sea turtle in an African pond. What struck me in particular this time was the actor Barry Fitzgerald. He had worked at the Abbey with W. B Yeats and Lady Gregory, and there he was acting the fool in a Tarzan flick. It was difficult to cram all into one concept. Emotional roller-coaster summer. Are they all, and I just forget? Yesterday was good. Peg came by to see the new house, bearing a loaf of bread. Will says his floor guy says that the floors at 62 look barely cat vomited-upon at all.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

July 23, 2014

Revision of Budapest poems. Steaming ahead with the Triangle play. A day half overcast, ambivalent. Drove to the Ford dealership thinking I was going to buy a Lincoln. Didn’t like the Lincoln (it would be like driving a sofa) and so came away with the elated notion that I had just saved $40,000. Bought another native hibiscus instead. Net savings: $39, 995.00. Man at Jesse Israel who talked with me about witch hazel: electrifyingly sexy. I look for good things on the 23rd of each month.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

July 22, 2014

Went under thunderheads of wrath to the optometrist’s finally to resolve to issue with my “new” glasses. Discovered that it was less one day of a year since I first went to get them, and that my warranty expired the very next day. My wrath grew as this doctor, too, explored every way in the world to convince me that the glasses were all right. The old glasses, the ones that are on my head now, they condemned as being “wrong,” though I could and can see through them perfectly. Finally, though, she decided that the new lenses were ground wrong and that I was always looking through the wrong part of them. She put dots on them to show where certain parts were, and that they were an astonishing distance from where they should be. Another pair in ten days. Part of me is thankful for the good luck in coming the day before my warranty expired; part of me is enraged that it took a year and a series of dismissed complaints to get it done. Is it done? We’ll see. My rage is not settled, even now, if that’s what the rage is about.

The glasses people opened two hours late yesterday because of some meeting, so I stormed out to Lowe’s and bought flowers from the last-of-the-season bin. One was joe-pye. Don’t even know what the other was, though it looks onion-y.

Ran hard at the Y to no ill effect. Made surprisingly little progress on my play. I think I have to have a payday before I can work anymore.

Monday, July 21, 2014

July 21, 2014

Sang in church after long absence. Showed Will the plants at 62, so he can decide what to keep, what t let go of. The mulberry is a golden conflagration. The paw-paws stand way above my head. I wish I could think of a way to get them here. My guts relax at this becoming solid after months of speculation. The exchange is low on profitability but so high on convenience that one is overjoyed to let it go. Loaded up on all the mulch I could need for a foreseeable future. Will found a little journal I had left behind– one bought me by Jay and Anise, in which I chronicle my New Orleans sojourn long ago. My keel is firm beneath me now that I have a writing project.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

July 20, 2014

I was weeding before the rain, and the plants I pulled up are still green from having the rain fall on their exposed roots, and do not yet know that they are dead.

Moon landing anniversary. I was a Playground Supervisor then at King School, and was going to bed after a long day, when my dad made me come to the living room to watch it on TV, saying, as he seldom did, “You’ll remember this forever.” He was right. It was dark and silver.

Will is refinishing the floors at 62, which means, I suppose, finally settled in my mind, that the deal is a done deal. Levels of relief!

Saturday, July 19, 2014

July 19, 2014

Hummingbird at my bee-balm patch. I envision an acre of scarlet bee-balm, fluttered over by vibrating wings. . . .

Sudden inspiration to write a play abut the Triangle Shirtwaist fire. One of those projects finished in conception after the first four or five pages are laid down.

Went three times to the studio and entered to work only once. One time I realized I was too drowsy to work. Another time the “new” glasses (which I have been struggling with for a year) hurt me so bad I couldn’t see. Third time was a charm. Fixed some paintings, foresaw what is to come.