An Owl

A little cooler, and I hadn't run the AC all day, the windows were open and I had the ceiling fan over my bed on low. Even had a light-weight blanket across my legs, wadded between my bony knees, as is my habit; deep in a dream where I was riding an old horse across a rocky field in moonlight. An owl starts hooting very close to the window where I'm sleeping, and it wakes me; I'm confused, momentarily, about the nature of reality, because the dream is so real that the intrusion of the owl seems like fiction. Several minutes before I realize the owl is real and the horse-ride is a product of my imagination. The owl is incessant, wins the day, when it comes to what you believe; I put on some pants and go downstairs. First thing I always do, in a similar situation, is roll a smoke and just listen. An owl's hoot seems to be merely a call, but I don't know, really, if something is being said, even a call says something. G. Spenser Brown and that entire field of what's said. Often, my entire thought process is interrupted by a sound from the natural world, a fucking owl, hooting, not unlike a whip-o-will, or those god-damn bugs that fill the summer. If you live in the natural world it's always subject to interruption, trees falling, something going on, a sound you can't make sense of, a scratching at the door. Needed to do laundry, so I spent most of the day reading at the museum. The place is quiet when it's open, when it's closed it's like a tomb. Great place to read. More of the beef strips for dinner. Rereading Pynchon's "Vineland" and I have to say not only that I think he is the best, but that he can also be very funny. Sara's giving a talk on the Carter painting, "River Boat Pilot", in the steamboat show gallery, so I'm on facilities detail tomorrow. D's on the road, getting the first two sets of dolls for the next show, Pegi's taking a vacation day, Trish will be buying and preparing the lunch spread. I've got some work to do on the roof, so I plan to get up there before it gets too hot, on a black rubber membrane, EPDM, which is a great roof, as is any roof, if installed correctly. The question then becomes how well do you know your roofers? I have a foot up, in this conversation, because I was a roofer, during the period I speak about; so I can filter through that, I understand, more or less. Roofing is just a way of casting, a shadow. If I were in touch with you. Consider the various connections. Bolts, and various lag screws. Brads, and the sundry nails you might shoot. A phone call late at night. Eyes locked across a crowed room. It's all the same. Peas in a pod. Attachment.