Getting Around

Paid taxes, paid bills. Drove out to the ridge, the lake still frozen (town is warm and dry), wisps of vapor rising, and I stopped to watch. The embedded root-balls and tree parts make an ephemeral installation. It's lovely, no one around, walking down to where Mackletree Creek comes into the lake. Open leads of water, and the different layers of ice carry different colors. All the edges are softened, rounded over, by the several days above freezing. The snow is mostly gone, but when I get to the north facing mouth of the driveway, in shade even in winter, there's still a hard crust of compacted snow, and where there isn't, there's mud. I just didn't want to face it, to be honest, with a 25 pound pack. I knew where there was a warm place I could read and write. I should have hiked in to the house. I wasn't mentally prepared, I'll go tomorrow. There are some experiments in perception I need to try, while this being warm and comfortable thing is still fresh on my mind. And there are new friends that I'd like to feed. I'm conflicted, now that the temps are warmer and the threat of frostbite is lessened. I could stay, for the dead of winter, in a motel room; they're all offering free wives now, which seems like a hell of a deal. Unless that's the very thing you're escaping. My limited understanding. I should be more knowledgeable. I keep running up against things I don't understand. Like time, and motion. Relationships, for that matter, which seem more and more distant. The concept of which. Met Anthony and Christy for an Irish with a beer back, nice conversation about cooking. They're both going to help with the croquettes, which should be fun. I usually cook alone, naturally, since I live alone. When I was teaching at the college I cooked for a few students maybe once a week. They'd bring bad wine and we'd eat good food. Christy made a risotto, Anthony's first. We talked risotto for a while. I love them. I love them refried as patties the next day, a risotto pancake with a runny egg is one of the great things you'll ever eat. If you're ever blessed with left-over risotto. Great word. And it really was one of the first things I wanted to make when I get back out to the house. It's been interesting, being away. I'll have months to think about that. An alternative would be to alter the system. I can't afford to do both, the usual delicate balance, but I could probably stay somewhere, in town, for 6 or 8 weeks. That's the edge I need. I still have designs on this place, but I'm a dunce, and confused. Consider that last comma. I think about it for the best part of an hour. What does a comma mean, what do you mean by a comma there, all the ten thousand things. And you're left with a note to see your adviser. You might be better suited to play rhythm guitar in a rock band. Stranger things have happened. Mound building is a way of altering the face of the earth, so that what we believe is made tangible. A major ephemeral event. Eventually everything slumps. Blame it on the Romans, or anyone with something to protect; personally,I choose Republicans, when I draw a line in the sand, an easy target. Nothing is not possible. You have to read along. I mean, if nothing is not possible, then what? Your sporting image selling golf-clubs, and shirts, with little stitched logos that must have meant something to someone. I don't buy the whole system. It doesn't work, you're running out of water. You flush toilets and refuse to compost everything you could. I lose patience.