Full Moon

It's so beautiful, behind layered clouds. Talk about 'in the zone', I wasn't aware of the outside world today, just hanging art. The focus becomes so narrow. At a particular moment, all I was doing was hanging a Jasper Johns and looking at it closely; a George Segal that is drop-dead gorgeous, lush and dark, three torsos, bare chested, in jeans stretched tight across their sex. I was whistling Janus Joplin, always a good sign, when the college class came in, and the kids didn't know what to make of me. I explained I was loosening the hanging wire, so I could get my hand behind a Andy Warhol, to make sure it hung correctly. A matter of course. I've taken one of the Roy Litchensteins completely apart, because I don't like the way they've done it, I could do it better in my sleep, which I do. Rearrange the hardware so it makes sense. In many ways I'm merely a technician. I mop in a pattern. It's not a big deal. I left home when I was quite young. Not that I had anything to prove, I was just curious, and realized that answers could only emerge from the din. Overslept this morning, nice stroll down the driveway which I judged to be firm enough to drive in on. As I need all the liquids, this is good news. D and I finish adding hardware and hanging the rest of the prints; it's a very good show, very powerful. We had gotten the entry wall and the signage walls primed yesterday, and got the first of two top-coats on them today. Going from brick red to bright yellow is a difficult transition, but three coats should do it. Stopped at Kroger, re-supplied the liquid larder. I'm craving roasted root vegetables, so I'll bring in food items tomorrow, maybe some pork chops, then booze on Saturday and I'll be set for a week. My needs are easily met. First thing I notice, arriving home, is that the poplars are showing bud; a big deal, for me, because it means I survived another winter. The blackberry canes on the driveway are set to explode. A beautiful, almost completely clear sky, and I'm looking forward to the moon again tonight. It's inexorable, you know, the turning of the wheel. I take very little for granted, but a day like this, I want to dance a jig. Everything clicked. Even lunch today was a treat; D and I sat between Tyler and a large guy with a Mohawk that was plowing through three large pretzels. D played basketball with Tyler in high school, we chatted about soccer and staying in shape, about whether or not North Korea could actually be stupid enough to attack the most heavily defended position in the world. I'm a Cancer, not that signs mean anything, and I love the moon. There were, camping beside my truck in the Utah desert, many times, when the only mediation between me and life, was a larger than expected moon, perched on top of a butte. Reminded of those times, as I watch a slightly past full moon rise among the stick trees. It's beautiful, it's sublime, it's astounding; I get a drink and roll a smoke and just sit there, watching the moon rise. Dusky dark and the three crows land on different branches of the dead oak tree out by the outhouse. They're in rare form. I didn't have a roadkill for them, and they seemed to be complaining. Fucking pets, they'll rule your life if you let them. I had a cat, once. I don't like dependency, it gives me heart-burn.