Squeeze Machine

I woke up wedged into the back of the sofa, thinking about Temple Grandin and neutral ways of achieving comfort. The easiest way of achieving comfort is to roll into your partner, denied that, maybe a sex toy of mylar and latex; but if you can't bear the idea of commitment, there's nothing like waking up in your mummy bag, wedged into a corner. I finally found the zipper and extricated myself. Small mercies. I almost panicked, then realized it was Easter Sunday, and I had all day, if necessary, to shed myself of whatever restraints. First morels. I don't want to make too big a deal from this, but I do love morels, they always make me smile. Butter, a finely minced quarter of onion, one clove of garlic, with a perfect fried egg on toast. Sinfully good. I spend the afternoon walking in the woods, collecting young morels I'd ordinarily leave for another day or two, but there's a flock of wild turkeys working the mast around my house right now, and they eat everything. Low cloud cover, impending rain, I retreat to the house, transcribe some notes, log off, before the first line of squalls moves across. Weather dictated behavior. Not unlike the Catholic church in the 15 nth century. The Inquisition. There were two or three popes then, and they all spoke for god. You know, really, I don't speak for mediation, a bunch of popes makes for confusion. Those days, the birth of moveable type, as soon as the church banned a book it became a best seller; the printers moved to Amsterdam, Poggio invented the lower case, and society became literate. This happened quickly, between 1450 and 1500 the modern was born. Simply speaking, people learned to read. B comes over with a book, or Michael comes by with a bottle of single malt, and we talk about books. Literacy is the key, when it comes to considering the modern. Drew makes a note to read Procopius because I had a copy of "The Secret History" laying on the table, I wasn't trying to make a point, it was merely the book that I was reading at the time. I was also reading Xenephon and a wonderful piece about fishing for sturgeon in a New Yorker article by McPhee. It doesn't get any better than this, morels on toast and esoteric knowledge, when all is said and done, I hang a very good show; it's not that complex, you just pay attention to detail., everything centers at 57 inches.. I do the math on a yellow legal pad, TR does it in his head, who's keeping track? D is hanging an iconic Bruce Nauman print on the front-wall, "MALICE'", and it's a beautiful thing, just a black lithograph, nothing special, but striking in it's contrast.. A squall line moving in from the northwest, I'd better go.