Hobbled

Can't get the work boot on my right foot, have to forgo the arch, do hobble into town and get some supplies. Let this be a warning to you, don't drink and scratch. Mid-afternoon I take another slice off the curing loin, nuke some sliced new potatoes with salt, pepper, butter, and thin slices of parmesan (sinful stuff), and sliced cukes in balsamic. Never really believed or disbelieved stories of the black copters but just now, 7:44 (I think my one clock is eight minutes fast) two of them came over very low, no markings. Strange. One of them right over my house, not a hundred feet above the ridgetop trees, and I'm pretty sure they're supposed to stay at a thousand feet. Just because you're not paranoid, doesn't mean... Nelson back at me, still thinking about rack and ruin, used a word I'd never heard, hendiady, for that verbal tic of Hamlet's, doubled nouns, and it's true, I didn't doubt him, he's taught Shakespeare for decades, but I always keep a copy out and read a bit of "Hamlet", never a bad idea. What language, working on so many fronts. Caxton had codified the language, he had to, he needed to set it in type, but Shakespeare was free to borrow anything from anywhere, and he did, we owe hundreds, maybe thousands of words, to him. A nexus that occurs rarely. A product of technology or genius, Michael Jordan or Stephen Hawking does or says something that changes everything. A thing that can't be done or said, that is, somehow, said or done, the bar is raised, simple as that, the impossible suddenly possible. What Emily did, or Olson. I was there, in the wings, when Skip Fox and Stephen Ellis broke free, into new ground, the impossible becoming real, count my lucky stars. Loud noise outside, have to go see what it is. No idea. Sit on the back porch with all the lights on, running through the possibilities, considering paranoia. But there was a noise. Not dogs, no animal sounds, maybe cats, or a cat and a something else; a deaf, dumb and blind bear; three minks on the way to a dance. Broke my concentration. Could have been a human, I suppose, but my experience, living alone in the woods, is against that, it's my terrain, everyone knows I have guns and listen closely. A natural sound that I can't place, does that make it unnatural?