Polenta

This batch, made with one-third acorn meal, are the hardiest damned things I've ever eaten, surely one of the attractions of Balanoculture. Worked right through lunch. I tend to eat when I'm hungry, I haven't gotten there yet and it's after 3. First rain drops, so I'm glad I worked the woodpile all day. Split everything I had cut, and moved a large quantity under the shed. No bad, for a gimp. The kneeling method of splitting is working well for me now, all I have to do is hold the hatchet handle with my left hand, no strain, and, as this method puts my eyes closer (by far) to whatever round I'm addressing, I can start the hatchet/wedge right in a heart-check. Found a maul-head by the side of the road, and it makes an excellent wedge for getting the hatchet unstuck, which really doesn't happen all that often. All in all, a superior technique for the aging and infirm. Rain supposed to change over to snow later, glad I got my walks in when I did, and collected a scant batch of acorns. Pretty well supplied, except I need eggs, for cornbread, and because I'll put a fried egg on just about anything, as egg yolk is one of my favorite substances. I was concerned about this weekend, because I needed to work on firewood, and I was uncertain about my arm. As it turns out, after two days of working, carefully, but steadily, I'm better, the arm is, especially after cleaning up and shaving, which always makes me feel better. Three crab cakes, fried in butter, with a bland white sauce (it's so easy to lose the crab) and an avocado on the side, halved, the pit dip filled with lime juice. I put the Dahlberg away, he is so fucking relentless, and read some Derrida essays, which I don't understand. Calm before the storm, the sky has become leaden and the wind has died to a whisper. " If the beautiful excludes the ugly, beauty is no measure of aesthetic merit; but if the beautiful may be ugly, then 'beauty' becomes only an alternative and misleading word for aesthetic merit." Nelson Goodman. I wrote this on a card and read it several times during the course of the day. I agree, I think, beauty is a difficult concept, a mind-field. It's hard to even agree on terms, definitions, punctuation. I'm not as cynical as Dahlberg, but I am cynical. Deep-river blues. I was in a road-house in Sidon once, deep in the delta, and time stopped, repression became tangible; because the lights were very low, skin color was not an issue. Like what Bela does on the banjo, criminal, but there it is.You can't listen to Son House in a room 20'x40' and not be affected. Infected. Whatever can go wrong certainly will. There was a guy, at Janitor College, Latvian, a depressive personality, because he'd never had enough to eat and was beaten as a child, who was emotionally labile, and made the rest of us cry too. Crying is contagious. Lamenting where you find yourself. Oh Sara Jane. These new writing gloves are perfect, a shade of gray. Everything is gray now. Nothing is black or white. I take a couple of aspirin, just because I'm happy doesn't mean things are ok.