Flowering Pear

Portsmouth is an ugly city, but these are the days she looks pretty good, the Oriental non-fruiting flowering pear trees are lovely things. They are determinate, crowning beautifully with no trimming required, and survive the urban landscape. They are awash in white flowers. Yesterday morning, just buds, but by today, fully engulfed. I didn't write last night, a friend stopped by for conversation and a couple of drinks, and now yesterday is on the edge of memory. Barnhart did his April Fool music gig at the museum, extreme electronic music, some of his, some John Cage recreations, and it was wonderful. Music as transport, close your eyes and imagine. A combination of random, arbitrary sounds, and generated music that sounded much like Tibetan throat singing. Things in the museum were vibrating, adding overtones. Cage liked what the venue added to the composition, I met him once, we talked mushrooms, I was briefly dating a woman in Merce Cunningham's dance company, and I found myself standing at the back of a theater talking with him about interesting ways to cook puff-balls. Also yesterday I saw the crested pigeon again. James and I had seen it on Thursday. One of those weird birds, must have escaped from someone's cote, with a feathered crown and different coloration. Not your normal pigeon. Thank god there were two of us to see, otherwise it might be a figment of my imagination. A stunning bird. Consider the Pin Oak, as I have in recent days, those few trees that hold dead leaves, I was wrong about the mechanism, it's two separate events. But even my description would be flawed by interpretation, because several events, interconnected, might be considered one thing. What actually happens, and I looked at this closely today, with a magnifying glass, is that last year's leaf has a very strong stem, incredibly strong, and it's shredded by winter winds, freeze-thaw, winnowed to bare fiber. Right next to its attachment point, another bud, this year's branch or leaf. I can see what's happening but it doesn't answer my question. Why? There must be a fall-back position, where last year's bud, if it had to, could sprout again. In the growth form they are linked, I'll cover your ass if you'll cover mine. After Drew left, last night, I remembered the Santayana quote:"Fanaticism is described as redoubling your effort when you have forgotten your aim." Life is a mine field, architectural cliches seem to say something. Public policy. Be careful what you believe. I'm, at best, a tainted source; all the sources I've examined closely are tainted, memory is a slippery slope. Was that just yesterday? The horse you came in on. I thought what you thought was one thing, but might be another. I wondered what we were talking about. I'd held back one loin of the woodchuck, in a marinade of red wine and herbs, seared it quickly on a very hot grill. Very good, and Dog seems pleased with her body parts, bones and all, stewed in chicken broth. Mississippi John Hurt, many fish bite if you've got good bait. My baby's going fishing too. Slack delta guitar. Yes, I'm going fishing too.