Later Thoughts

Fuck a bunch of Johnson grass, wild asparagus, anything that waves in the wind. If you look closely, there are these miniature orchids, what they mean. My attention. I'd rather look closely than not look at all. Consider death and dying. The Grateful Dead, "Dark Star", or Edgar Meyer transposing the cello suites. Even The Allman Brothers, "Sweet Melissa", is a lament if you listen closely. Boz Skaggs, his first or second album, with Duane playing lead guitar, is heart-breaking. Brother can you spare a dime. I'm not without resources. I bleed, therefore, not unlike other critters that bleed, if pricked, a blackberry cane in passing, green briar, whatever stands betwen me and home, I might leak a few fluids, but nothing serious. I get to the museum early, to explain to Pegi why I wasn't there yesterday. D showed up in the rental van loaded down with ceramic work for the next show upstairs, had to get it now, weeks early, because she's (the lady potter) going to Canada for the rest of the summer. D thought she was hot. Unloaded the large tupper- wear 'totes', which have become the shipping container of choice for potters, into the downstairs hallway, put the rear seats back in the van. D returned it, I retreated to my office. A lot of other people in and out. Read some of Mary's letters, thought about Emily. I wonder what Linda thinks about the 'tells' that will make the character more real. They'll also indicate movement. Have to get this thing out on stage. I've got some ideas. After lunch, when TR is done with his Camp Group, we form a work chain: D downstairs, loading the elevator, me upstairs, unloading the elevator, TR carrying the totes into the vault. We'd straightened things in the vault, so that we could line them up down the middle, and still have access mostly. We don't really have storage space for even a relatively small show like the Stephanie Craig. Usually an incoming or outgoing show is just pushed to the center of a gallery (so I can access the walls) while it awaits either shipping or installation. It occurs to me that you could shingle a roof with old license plates. It would take a lot of them, but there are a lot of them. If you started collecting them when you were a kid, and people gave them to you, when they knew you had started your collection, by the time you got married and built a house, you'd have plenty of them. License plates hold up very well, with any luck, they could be your only roof. Took a nap and woke up thinking about license plates, go figure. Then a complete sidebar, into care for the aging, myself included, a phone call I didn't want to field. Late supper of things I can eat on a cracker. It's not that I'm anorexic, but I don't eat enough. A list of ways to die. I'd been working on this for a long time. You notice, time to time, someone dies an odd way, drowned in beer or buried in molasses, and you make a note. There was a nice list on Mandatory yesterday or the day before, about weird ways people had died. My way is equally good. Just saying. Explicate whatever.