Aesthetic Theory

Glorious huge blue fall day, temps in the 50's. Drive to town requires many stops, with the leaves gone you see so much more deeply into the surrounding country. Below the floodwall, several people walking their dogs, remember me and the Wrack Show. And a new reader who really likes my work. Life is an Amish Folly. It's interesting to talk with people about they read me, all part of the process. Where I write from is almost a fugue state, white noise and focus, I usually listen to the refrigerator. Lunch with D and we talk about problems in crating the Circus Show, then I do my fairly large shop at Kroger, and head home. There are a lot of stale crackers, from recent events, and I take a large bag to the lake, feed a flotilla of geese, bless them on their way. The driveway is terrible, but fitting, I'm oddly proud it's so bad. Chatting with D today, and Barbara, at the pup, where we lunched, I realize I'm becoming more eccentric. A product of living alone, other people become checks and balances. If you live alone, you develop patterns, I, for instance, keep a juice glass in the fridge, a big, heavy glass, 16 ounces, weighted bottom, a serious glass, and I keep it full of a blend of juices. I drink beyond my means. But something is always on sale. Plato and all that. I'd rather be a reptile, really, just find a well-drained hole. Heaven knows what you might dream while you slumber. I merely channel shit, that seems to be my job. That's ok, defining me that way, but it doesn't address what I actually said, but that might not matter. What was actually said. Marbles are round, cornbread are square. I always have problems with sophisticated people. They expect more, an explanation, but there isn't one, another myth. I slip into the mop closet, and pull the door shut.