Compount Motion

Day off so I read the new David Guterson novel "The Other". Excellent book. Friend I'd been out of touch with e-mailed to ask what was up in my world and I just sent him to Ridgeposts.Blogspot.Com and told to catch up at his own speed and that I really didn't have much to say beyond what I say. Didn't mean to be rude, if I was, but I don't want to have to write out everything a second time, I type too slowly. Losing leaves and the late afternoon sun is in my eyes again, need to get a window shade but I really don't like covering windows. Don't think I mentioned, during the clogged toilet run, after the plunger was brought into the conversation, I said that I understood what a difficult tool it was to use, what with the compound motion required, both up and down. Everyone chuckled nervously. Maybe will make a large lever for the Wrack Show. Weight the end down with a stump and hold up something heavy. I like the image. Do all the Simple Machines, I forget how many there are, maybe five. Funny, I actually told those people yesterday to not take it personally but that I didn't socialize. Don't want anyone to take offense, but I barely have time to live my life. Writing these daily posts about uses me up. Four weeks paid vacation (I've never had any paid vacation), but one week of that I'll use to come home an hour early the coldest days next winter, one I might work in Iowa, save the other two for emergency visits to Florida and the dying folks. They are good, by the way, but Mom can't see and Dad can't walk, so it takes both of them to do anything. Fucking bat in the house, I get the tennis racket out and place it within reach. My folks are so zen about all the end-of-life things, the failing body parts, losing control of things, they had a good laugh when I was telling them about the clogged toilet, and we talked about farm life. I was explaining the Wrack Show to Mom and when I finished she said -so, let me see if I've got this right, you and Darren are going to take a bunch of shit (when she says this word it's very long) from the river bank and install it at the museum- and we laughed again. Salt of the earth. The parade went on forever. A lot of just normal people walking, the occasional band, some very bad floats; it was as if from wherever the parade started, it just picked up stragglers and various odd shipping containers. It was kitsch, without knowing it. It thought it was a parade. My me is a construct too, so I understand these things. I am, in person, almost exactly the person I appear to be. My attempt to nail things down seems to be exploding. I thought I knew what I meant, but it got away from me. I dined on a small grilled tuna steak and some of those baby carrots I halved and caramelized in butter, I did a nice wasabi butter to finish the carrots, lots of black pepper. The carrots were better than the tuna, which was old and tired, made better with some of the wasabi butter. My typing style is becoming affected, I often lean back in my chair and strike a mark of punctuation with a kind of histrionic stab. I've finished the thought, you know, the words, and I know what the punctuation mark is, I've decided, and I sometimes look at the stabbing finger, usually pointing finger (the first) right hand, and I shake it in front of my eyes, then stab with abandon. I'm usually talking out loud at this point, rereading the last sentence. I'd make a good Punch And Judy Show. Sometimes I wish I was gay, so I could like Judy Garland, but I listen to The Cello Suites, Bach calms me, turns me in on myself. Out of the blue, the thought that I can turn one of the pieces we salvaged for the Wrack Show into an outhouse, it's perfect, what it wants to be, build a skeletal frame around it and call it done, it's elegant beauty is that it doesn't even need a toilet seat, it's that perfect. I have several toilet seats I've collected as wrack, ironic that I wouldn't use one, where I could, but it's hardly necessary, and less is more, the new pink. Probably will have to take a paid week off to do yard work. I'm bad about this, I actually like watching things grow and have trouble cutting them down. Normally what you do is interrupt natural succession and plant grass, then you can mow it. I'm looking for another answer which is, of course, shade, invasive shit only thrives in direct sunlight. The view from the outhouse, through a grove of new poplars, is completely open, because it is completely shaded, crowns competing for open space. These fast hardwoods are key, they set the stage. Allow a floor. Cubicles. People could interact by leaning over. What a terrible world, anyone could say anything.