Tick Bites

I'm amazed I haven't caught one of those diseases. I look like someone peppered with bird shot, but all are healing and I haven't had a new one in over a week. Early to town, so I could do some grocery shopping. Don't know why I forgot about making a pot of rice and doing a stir-fry. Got a nice lean small London Broil, and while it was half frozen I sliced it very thinly, between a sixteenth and an eight of an inch, it's marinating now in a mixture of mango nectar and sambak, with some tonic water and various other things. Might be too hot because the meat is so thin, but ere, I say, on the side of excess. It's so much fun, to work with Sara and D that I sometimes feel almost guilty that we exclude some of the staff. But we work this way, a way we've found can get things done. Always the bottom line. There's this new male volunteer or intern, or whatever, and he's cool, wears a drover hat, and seems intelligent enough to stay in the conversation. No small feat. Our conversation, when we're working, is quite cryptic. We seldom finish a sentence. And we had a wonderful chore in front of us, all these new Carter drawings, the nudes, and they aren't titled, but we have to be able to tell one from another, for our record, so we have to give them names. A naming ceremony. I wear the white gloves, I handle the goods, I love it. I love handling art, and the new guy is there, Sara appointed him to record the names we gave them, because none of the rest of us are legible. One of those sessions, where everything is pure and the outside world didn't matter. Early on, I encouraged TR (?) to jump into the fray, called D from his office, because we were naming things. The job of a poet. Where we end up. I won't tell you almost everything, you'll accept that. I have to think about it. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the low bidder.