Vicious Storm

I spent most of the day at the museum, because it was cool there and it was bloody hot outside, approaching 100 degrees. I didn't need to be there, but I didn't need to be anyplace else either. Lunch and a beer at the pub, John, the owner, sat with me and we watched highlights of the USA women beating Brazil in the World Cup. A great soccer match. The USA goalkeeper is hot. We talked about the curling team we were assembling for next winter; how we'd flood the alleys in town and slide concrete geese along a trail we'd clear with swifters. This was very funny conversation, and we had attracted an audience. Lost both power and the phone, which come in from different directions; a serious squall line. Green leaves fall in fear. I wanted to write. I make some notes, in longhand, but they don't make much sense, to the way I compose now, on a screen. I see what I write, and one thing follows another, checks on the list. I'm pretty simple, really. What you see. I have to go, this is a serious storm. Power and phone both out all night. The power came on after six this morning, and the phone shortly after. I clean up and go on in to work, because the house is stuffy, windows closed against the storm and no AC, and I know the museum is cool. Still a wreck there, but Pegi gets one of her strong young bucks to come in, and he's very good at lifting and carrying. The wedding party comes in for a final load of decorations. There are maybe 600 wine glasses and champagne flutes that need to be run through the dishwasher. There's still garbage to collect and haul away. By the end of the day, working steady, we have things under control; more than half the glasses done, all the tables and chairs put away, and the basement mostly dry, from where more water had seeped through the walls. D investigates various cement plasters we might use to waterproof walls. Sara asked me about a moment of anger in my writing, sometime the last few days. I had been writing and there was a power failure, I lost a few sentences, when the power came back on I couldn'r remember them, because I was dealing with issues having to do with power failure: find the nearest flashlight (I keep several, stashed around) light some candles, get out one of the oil lamps, and set up a reading and writing post at the kitchen island. This is the way I handle power outages. I've lived without power, it's not a problem, you just have to know what to do. You don't want to burn the house down just because the power failed. I have very safe candle holders, virtual cups underneath, and a handle, with which even a drunk could light his way up the street, or through the woods, wherever he might be headed. I chuckle to myself, sometimes, going in and out of fits. My 'anger' was merely irritation at how stupid people could be. You can't put three hundred pounds of food waste in a single trash can, it's not done. Does anyone use their fucking head. This bothers me, how stupid people are. Right there, that last sentence. I was looking for a fish in the shallows, something I could easily spear. Not even a sentence, lord knows I'd like to command a single coherent sentence; it's my dream, that cruise to the end of the world; but even just a clause would be OK.

Tom

Be careful. Just saying. What happened. July 13, 2011. I have both power and a land line, I'd better send this, start over.