High Maintenance

Here defined as ceiling repair. Water damage, the source of which we think is repaired. But first a trip across the street to check out the apartment where Glenn and Linda will be staying, for the Wrack Movie showing next week. Wednesday, the 30th, noon, free. Also needed to see where D and I will be cooking ribs (the roof) and the conference room, where we expect to dine. Must be the most beautiful spaces in Portsmouth. The workmanship is impeccable. Lunch at the pub has been a zoo the last couple of days, soccer mania. They opened early, for the U.S. game yesterday, and there were quite a few people drunk by noon. And again today, another crowd. But they always serve us promptly at the bar, know we need to be in and out, and banter with us in that familiar way that regulars anywhere enjoy. Lindsey, just pregnant, due in February, a perfect barmaid, enjoys our company. We usually sit in the same place, across from where the dispenser nozzle for various liquids hangs. That way we can get our own water, and we both drink a lot of water, so it's a good place; except that occasionally one of the servers will tip over a glass or even spray us or threaten to, if they perceive we're getting out of line. Lunch becomes an adventure. D had dressed for scrapping a ceiling over your head and I had other fish to fry. We only have James for a few more days, so I spent the rest of the day working with him, photographing the permanent collection. Except for three things we haven't found, I've now seen everything in the museum. So D scraped the ceiling in two spots and laid in a first layer of mud. Taking care of business. I have a very clear image of the museum, as a developed life-form, using people to further it's ways. That's why it got me to be the janitor here. Smart move. Good Draft. I was thinking about what Linda said, and rereread the passage, the beginning of 'The River' through wherever you lose interest, trying to find a certain passage. I like that section, it's free-form, it doesn't simply narrate. I expect an excess, really, if I pay any attention at all. What watching the frogs taught me, to admit my own ignorance, is that we rarely take the time to look at anything closely. Really closely. Now I notice everything and I still don't have a clue. Knowledge, someone said, is ignorance, and I might agree with that; my curser is stuck on a 7-10 split, which I've never converted. I think you have to bounce it off the backboard. Phone is out, probably another tree. Power out almost every day between noon and 5 PM for at least a few minutes. God damn goat-suckers, whip-poor-wills, wake me almost every morning before first light. It's like a George Carlin circle of hell. I often just go in early and read in the library at the museum, it's quiet and air-conditioned. Picasso's father was an art forger. Carvaggio fled Rome after killing someone, I knew that, what I didn't know was that the victim was a victorious opponent in a tennis game. Bad dude. D has some things to do and I scrub the floor in the elevator, hands and knees, an industrial orange based cleaner that I'm fond of for really tough jobs. Then scrap and vacuum the tracks the elevator doors run in. Little jobs accumulate, need addressing. I clean the theater, because there's a concert tonight, and just before closing the band arrives, to set up and test sound. They were supposed to perform in the theater, why I had cleaned same, but they like the main gallery, with the art work, and we set them up there. One of them is in the show, and he blows a mean harmonica. I want to stay, but I'm beat, from the preceding weeks, and all I can think about is getting home, changed into threadbare cotton, with a bourbon on ice. Salad and cheese and crackers for dinner. Produce is starting to come in at the farmer's market. A great tomato, I think I recognize it as a 'South Florida Ugly', a cultivar protected by state law there. I didn't say anything, just bought it for 50 cents. These are great tomatoes. Appearance isn't everything. Taste being what it is. Overriding, actually, like smell; being transported without conscious thought. The smells I remember. It's been a long day, a couple actually. I'm going to go have a tomato sandwich on whole wheat with mayonnaise. I can't think of anything better.