Long Day

Up before dawn and the house is warm enough that I don't start a fire, first time in six weeks; heat water on a hot-plate, shave, read for an hour, 18 degrees, so the slush has refrozen, down the hill and off to town. Early enough that I can go to the store, get a few more things to pack in to the house, and wash my hair at the museum. D arrives and we go to Market Street for coffee and a scone, back at work we survey the scene, decide on a course of action, shuffle a few pieces, dig the last two pedestals out of the basement, both of which have a bad side but will be against walls, which frees up a shelf, which means we have enough flat surfaces. We hang the last few pieces, reposition a couple of things, D starts lighting the show and I start hauling stuff to the basement. Every tool we own is out, the gallery is a shambles, piles of blankets, tables (five of them) covered with debris, the job box overflowing with hanging hardware. Mount the remaining labels, touch-up the peds that we added, then we finish the lighting. Then we do the vinyl signage and it's 5 o'clock, I have to go home. We're both exhausted, but the show is done. We agree that I'll come in on Monday, to touch-up the walls and clean the floor, D will come in that afternoon and we can do the signage on the entry wall. I remember eating lunch, and we stopped for a couple of smokes, other than that, we never stopped. I get home at dusk, with plenty of light on six inches of rotten snow to follow the trail, and there was enough sun today that the house is not frigid, merely cold, I don't even start a fire right away. Comfort, it seems, is a relative thing. Mostly I want to change clothes and get a drink. Whipped, I have to nap for a couple of hours before I can see straight. Get back up at midnight, eat some left-over mashed potatoes and an avocado, start a small fire (it's still above freezing outside) and collect my thoughts. D and I work so well together, it's almost unbelievable what we accomplished (now) yesterday. I call up the weather on line, decide to stay home today, do firewood, rest and read, nap as necessary. Everyone knows what it's like to push toward a deadline (I wonder if that's really true: most people, in my experience, are actually quite lazy), to get your term paper done, to open a show. I draw on deep reserves to do what I do at my age. Enjoy is not quite the correct word, but I derive satisfaction from seeing something done, installing a show, and there are lessons learned, and learning is always a good thing. I didn't understand what D wanted to do with the vinyl signage, then I got it, he wanted a different plane, things aren't usually absolutely horizontal and vertical: life, actually, is skewed. Mostly what you see is what you're used to looking at. Snow-cover reveals the contour of landscape, drainage is a fact of nature, straight lines are rare. Nora Jones keeps popping up, Koko Taylor, the women in my life. It's interesting that my life is full of women but devoid of intimacy. The Court Of Enigma. I love women, I love the way they smell, I love their tone of voice. Maybe the right girl will come along. I use these terms loosely, right, loosely, because, really, I'm not going to change. It's fine to speculate. You're given a hollow, water flows downhill, you do what you can. Going out on a limb here, you follow my line of reasoning, which brings up several points we should talk about, but I can't keep notes fast enough. It's 4:12 tomorrow and I feel better than I have in weeks. The loosening of bunched muscles. The way you set back and breathe when you've done something difficult and survived. Hey, between you and me, there is really just this very thin fabric, what we have experienced together. Almost nothing, and yet a very real thing. Harmonics. I'm a joke, a cartoon character, I'm not sure I really exist.

Tom

Diana reads me in the morning,
a bagel, and cream cheese,
who could ask for
anything more.