Whatever Floats

Interesting things found at waters edge. Mostly it floats. D wanted to use a rock and I nixed the idea as unfloatable, as though that were some sort of criteria, which it might be, then remembered exceptions, to the rule. One rule being there should always be exceptions. Besides, who am I to say? The pergola should dive fairly steeply toward the back, think V, lower at the bottom, better angle for lighting, dramatic flare and flair, maybe the balls inside. The suggestion of a porch can be as few as six pieces, think minimal: 2 posts, a beam, a rafter at either end, a single purlin, elegant. Maybe a nifty crooked railing, maybe a small piece of metal on the roof, to cast a shadow. Shadows, god, I hadn't thought much about them, but there are going to be a great many shadows. Think about it. Liking the lashing attachment more and more, may need to steal some rope while there are still moored boats. Found a roll of baling wire and it certainly doesn't float, but I'm not above using it. Whatever Floats could also mean Your Boat, and that would mean whatever it would mean, whatever made the idea work. Also growing on me is the voyeuristic peep into the two adjacent houses through the back windows. Nice touch. Need a raunchy piece of wrack, just remembered a piece, not enough, but a start, a rubber thing that looks like an enema bag for a truck. The dock bumper could be a sex toy. Must remember to tell Nick about a possible display of sex toys. Cleaned the alley today and found a used condom, a doubled condom, actually, so someone is practicing safe sex. It would be nice to find a roll of butcher paper or cling-wrap. Just had a great idea but won't have time to do it: a Japanese screen made from glued bits of wrack paper in a wrack frame. Palimpsest. There's a lot of paper floating around. You could probably say whatever you wanted, find the words and make a ransom note. For instance, from a distance, this lovely screen, clean natural form, back-lit and slightly opaque, but as you get closer you can make out words, closer still, you can read the words, and it's a specific note: leave five dollars and a bottle of Ridge, '93, Lytton Springs, Zinfandel, under the north bridge abutment, or you'll never see your cat alive again. Like that. I see a series of threatening screens. I need to call Barnhart, the music guy, be nice if there was the sound of the river, on a loop, softly in the background. Be nice if at the opening there was a beautiful naked female playing the Bach Cello Suites but I doubt that. Think about it. Whatever, you know, think about it, floats your boat. I try not to judge, so deeply scared from hiding under my desk, when we did that as a matter of course, earth tremors or atomic attach, nuclear, we ducked beneath the desks, we were well trained, and that meant keeping the path clear, so we put up our toys, I remember a peg-board, with the toys outlined in magic marker. I almost remember.