Follies and Frolics

Phone service was out again, it's become a joke. Folly to believe. Went in early yesterday, because Pegi had asked to, as Julia, a board member, was decorating for an event tonight. It rained, and I didn't want to go home and have to climb the hill in the dark and wet, so I stayed in town. Watched an episode of "Elementary" and read Carter clipping. I'm about to broach the last two four-drawer filing cabinets, in which I know there are some folders devoted to single paintings. Highly specific information. Delicious. I might be able to tape record a book about Him. The docent approach to biography. Yesterday I was asked a couple of questions about particular paintings, and I had to go get support material so that I could show the connections. 1928 was big for Cartie and I could do a dense thirty minutes on that year alone, which would translate to 20 manuscript pages. I"d have to get someone to do the transcription, and then I could edit. So I could technically do a Carter book, I just wouldn't have to do as much physical writing. The actual hunt and pecking that I do, with my two fingered typing and my myriad diversions, has to be mostly reserved for "Ridgeposts" which is unscripted, almost the exact opposite of doing a biography. I love nothing more than getting a drink, rolling a smoke, and talking to Black Dell; I forget to eat, I'm reminded to do laundry only by the smell of dirty socks, I forget what I'm doing, I walk aimlessly in the woods. Maybe I get back to the house with a noun/verb combination, maybe just a noun, or maybe just a verb. I start writing, then I usually have to look up a word or two, roll another smoke and get another drink. It's slow going. I aim to make every word, and every mark of punctuation mean something. No reason otherwise for me to be doing this. There must be other things I could do. I always think of Falstaff, "I would I were a weaver..." The way meaning collapses on that phrase. Saying he wishes he had a safety net, but he enjoys being king of the bar, and given his druthers, he'll continue bar-hopping. Reading Zukofsky on Shakespeare. Damn. "Bottom: On Shakespeare", is probably one of the great books ever. It assumes so much, that you know Shakespeare well, that you understand the play of language. A typical Amish frolic is raising a barn., nothing like a post and beam frame to tie things together.