Research

More drawers, more letters, all day. Time flew by. Little pieces of the puzzle. One more day, for now, but I could spend a year, the amount of material is staggering. D went with me for a beer at the pub after work, and B came in, we gave him the stool between us, but he really just wanted to engage D about his thesis, and I mostly just listened. I think what they're talking about is that an audio or electronic piece of text is not the same as a physical book. Pretty sure I can tell an actual book from an imitation. B argues that the imitation was already codified as a book, the instant it appeared, because there was a history of book-ness, what might just be misleading facts are extraneous matter. It's difficult for me to think that many moves ahead. The Redbuds are incredible this year, B says the most he's ever seen, some back roads are lined with them, and now the Shad is blooming, the whitest of white. The ridge-tops are greening. Loveliness all around. Harvested five gallons of rain water, but it'll have to be strained though old clean tee-shirt before I can even use it for wash. So much shit in the air. The trees and bushes are all drinking now, so not much goes down the driveway; which was fine, for me to get out early and shave at the museum with hot running water. D arrived, we did the Saturday coffee and burrito run to Market Street. D is doing a great piece of programing that will dramatically improve the bookkeeping end of a large juried show, and the printing of labels. These have always been sore points. D and TR yelled back and forth all day yesterday. I retreated to my hermetic cell, read letters and looked at pictures. Sara called, while D was at the printers (making sure some letterhead was done correctly), and I shared my enthusiasm for doing this kind of research. The time signature is off here. I wrote twice, recently in one long night, the second posting, technically is dated the next morning, which is true, but it was within the same writing period as the post from the night before. Then I had just started a paragraph, last night, the first part of this, and B came over for a drink, and we ended up talking for a while. After he left I got another drink and rolled a smoke. Thought about mortality, dementia, and why we all end up dying. It wasn't particularly bleak. The physical self wears out. What's to be expected. I hope I'm making sense here. It makes at least a kind of sense to me. And that's enough, kind of, because there is no definitive answer, ever, to any question. The nature of inquiry. Hey, wow, that's cool, you nailed uncertainty, the way there isn't enough information, the way I want more information, not sure there's a solution. I'll have my people get in touch with your people.