Rainy Day

Turned the driveway to a mushy mess. I couldn't get to work. Supposed to rain all week, when I get to town I may have to stay there, to get the show done. Damned awkward. Cross that bridge tomorrow. Read James Sallis, "What You Have Left", The Turner Trilogy, yesterday and today. Excellent, extremely good language. I couldn't put it down. The rain has killed that susurrus of life in the woods. Just the rain on the roof, the dripping off the eaves, water drops hitting leaves that are no longer soft and supple. I did need a couple of days off, before the big push; last two days, I probably read for 16 hours. Essays on Tiepolo and Piazzetta, there's a painting by P, "The Supper at Emmaus" that is beautiful, there's a plate of asparagus that is brilliant, but what I saw in the figures and in the lighting was Caravaggio. I see these connections now, is the point, and I didn't before, I hadn't read enough in that area, and hadn't looked at enough pictures, now I look at them every day and I see these obvious connections, like Dorn and Creeley with Olson. I imagine there's web-site now that tracks new ideas. Real-time responses, yeah or nay. You can find out if you're full of shit or not. It's a free service. I still have tomatoes, so I toast a trencher of Cincy bread, this stuff is incredible, the best bread I've ever eaten, sour dough, flip a perfect egg over easy on the toast, slice the tomato with a garnish of cheese shavings, a little balsamic, some kosher salt. I recommend this meal, for anyone who lives alone, and everyone else, also. Summers are framed by morel dishes in the spring, and tomato dishes in the fall, the nature of things. I'm having a good year, paying off my VISA and learning to walk with a broken toe. Ronnie gives me more tomatoes than I could possibly eat. I don't want to comment on Bear's older daughter flirting with me, she's young, the filters haven't kicked in yet, but Jesus, when did kids start maturing so early?