Writing

I was writing very well and then this book of Skip's appears in the mailbox. I swore I wasn't going to start on it until the weekend because I knew it was a black hole. But it's suddenly very hot and I have to run the window AC until the temp inside gets to 81 degrees or my black Dell is very unhappy, jets taking off the deck of a carrier unhappy. Very loud. Samara calls and we talk about fat people fucking, and what a strain that must put on a bed. I can say anything to my daughters, they can no longer be surprised. And finally it's cool enough to write. This book of Skip's is the cat's ass. I peeked, "Sheer Indefinite", you have to own this, he's one of the best writers writing, some of his work stops my heart. After writing I read him for another hour. A man with his hand on the pulse. He plays with language constantly, shocks and surprises. Heady stuff. Museum was a zoo of kinder-garden kids and their handlers most of the day, TR and Klaire (the intern's intern) handled most of it, Pegi and I holed up in our offices. I switched between reading Mary's letters, reading more about Munch and looking at pictures of his work. Strange guy, strange work. In the afternoon I sorted hardware and started a list of things I'd be needing. It's an odd list, but I've done this local show three or four times now, and I know we'll need monofilament line, several kinds of tape, plastic anchors for the drywall, maybe a box of those screws that have a washer pre-attached on the inside of the screw-head. Good for keeping a very light matted drawing from leaping off the wall at a clap of thunder. Monolithic buildings shake, the energy has to go somewhere. This is not a metaphor. My new cubby of an office has no view of the outside world, but I can always tell when a squall line is moving through. I usually walk into Pegi's office, to see what's happening, she has the only 'outside' windows, except for Sara's view of the alley, and base my plans on what I see. Have a draft at the pub, or hurry home, always an issue. I'd rather have a draft, with Juan of the two beauties, but he was either lost at sea or arrested by the FBI, and the storm clouds are threatening.