Nowhere

Not getting anywhere from here for at least another day. Fortunately B had brought over those books, and I turned to Richard Powers' new Orfeo which is a great read. Beautiful writing. I figure I can dig out tomorrow. The visual thing that was happening all day, were little explosions as the ice snapped off branches. On a bright sunny day, it was a succession of prismatic events. I kept catching them out of the corner of my eye. The couple of times I went out to pee, I could hear them too, a little crystalline jingle that's quite pleasant. I have a dry spot, on the edge of the back porch, and I have my Ethafoam pad; and I like to sit out there with a drink and a smoke, and watch the sunset. It's a different show every night. I've always watched the sun set, built a bleacher on Martha's Vineyard, a bench at the farm in Mississippi, a stump in Colorado, that was hollowed out by rot, that I had 'fixed' with multiple coats of two-part epoxy, that rested near the center of a ring of stones that had once held down the edges of a tee-pee, and the stump was only near the center, because I still used their fire-pit; in Ohio, I just sit on the back stoop and watch the birds. I had so many mice in the freezer that I started feeding the crows almost every day. Which has turned out to not be a good thing. They're just too loud. When I go outside, to dump the dishpan or the piss-pot, they're always there, asking for a mouse that I've micro-waved for thirty seconds. They seem to love the horseradish sauce, and I can't figure out what that means. Discerning crows, for god's sake. I wanted to work another year at the museum, but I can't do it, too many other projects, and the stars don't align. I have too much stuff, we all have too much stuff, the solution is a bonfire, but everyone hates to burn their past.