Crazy Loon

I'm thinking it might be a bear, after the spoiled meat in B's freezer, which stinks to high heaven. I guess because it's downwind of him he feels he doesn't need to deal with it. He's wrong, but no one could ever tell him that; it's not a bear, though it might have been, it's a family of coons, rooting through the compost. It's hard to believe, but it's all good. At 2:40 in the morning John Lee Hooker sounds really fantastic, the way he pulls at your gut. Then there's John Prine. I get a good fire going, I just want to go back to bed, but sleep and music and words become a tangle that I want to think about. So I get a drink and roll a smoke. 3 o'clock in the morning, and I'm whistling along with Clapton and that long lovely interlude in "Layla"; this is not an affected position. I speak with some authority. I went to a shrink once. I had a crazy friend who'd been in therapy forever and insisted I go with him one time. The wind whispers Mary, I know it's just the leaves rustling, but I'm beginning to hear words. This could be the winter of my content. Really, I feel strong in all the ways I need to be. There are a few bricks yet to set but I'm confident in my ability. I view winter as a good time to read. You know, when you have a woodshed and all, I think I'll tackle Proust again. The various gods. I think of myself as transparent. Go figure. A book is merely a book, the world is unabashed. You know what I mean? The crows, for instance, seem to be saying something. This west African music makes sense to me right now, I can't say why. Sense is a slippery subject. D says I make everything up, but every time he checks, I'm on the money. At Janitor College, there was a required course, where you collected your shit, and did something with it. Finally did get back to sleep then overslept because of the overcast. Thank god we're coming up on shortest day. Some organization sponsored a ginger-bread house competition and it was judged at the museum, the winner didn't want to take their "National Lampoon Christmas Vacation" house back and there's an event at the museum, several, actually over the weekend. It had to go, so I took it. We're talking quite large here, two story house, with yard and decorated trees. I thought the birds at the lake would like it. Left work early, my overtime exceeds two work weeks at this point, and I haven't started on my vacation time, there's supposed to be snow for the foreseeable future and I wanted to get more wood in the woodshed. So I stop at the lake, and put the house on a table at the shelter (roof only, open sides) and retreat to the truck to watch for a while. First are the crows and they seem to be partial to the gum drops, one of them gets his entire head covered with the powered sugar / coconut snow. One of the duck families, alerted by the raucous crows, come speeding over from the spillway. Then four geese waddle over from under the pine trees. This should have been filmed, it was just too funny. One of the geese, standing on a bench, started hammering at the roof of the house, and the chips were flying. I'm laughing so hard I choke and a Park Ranger pulls in next to me; I explain that giving a ginger-bread house to the birds is more akin to feeding them than it is to littering (a $500 fine at the lake) and he agrees, bums a cigaret, and we watch together, as birds destroy a house. Excellent diversion. I need to get home, as the first flakes fall, tell the Ranger I'll clean up the mess tomorrow or the next day, and he says not to bother, they've got a county work crew, prisoners, coming on Monday, thanks me for the entertainment. He knows who I am and where I live, common knowledge, I guess. The house is cold but I get a ripping fire going and go back out to cut a few starter sticks, roll a couple more large rounds into the shed. If the forecast is correct, tomorrow morning should be beautiful. I'm well supplied, my truck is at the bottom of the hill, what could be nicer than a blanket of snow? I'm more ready than I have been for several years, the tiff with B has focused my attention, being completely alone is not so bad, it tends to hone your reflexes. And there's no compromise involved. I don't have to wait for someone else, other, to fuss with their appearance. When I want to do something, I can do it, without synchronizing watches. My time is my own. I'm distracted constantly, and that's ok, my 'schedule' is a textbook with pages missing. I'm a good worker and the people I work with know that, and also know that if the frogs are having an orgy, I'll probably not show up for work. Unless it be imperative that I be there, in which case I would be. I'm a fucking rock when it comes to opening a show, as good as ever was, but I am still easily distracted. Walking up the driveway, this afternoon, there was a plant still intensely green, I stopped and took off my pack. What is this, still green? We've had several hard freezes. I don't know what it is, a mullein I think, and what are the mechanics involved in it not dying, or going into hibernation or whatever. If you're going to wander about and look at things in winter, you really have to carry a piece of foam. I have a piece of ethafoam, three inches thick, four inches wide, and twelve inches long that I carry with me everywhere. You never know when you're going to have to sit or kneel. The mysteries. This could be a significant snow event, I just went out to check the temp and it's right at 32 degrees, and the rain drops are large, changing to snow, then the sound changes, strange, everything muffled. I expect a blanket by morning. Yes, and she said yes, and yes it was. I'm always leaning on Molly or Emily, but tonight, I'm going to just stoke up the fire and retreat to my bag. I can't wait for tomorrow.