Too Quiet

I'll work this out tomorrow, the logistics, I think I have enough whiskey and tobacco to see me through, I can always reread Proust. But this last snow is an affront, bad form, I'd already changed out of long-underwear into tee-shirts with a pocket. There's this one crazy guy in town, Richard, all he does is walk around. He must walk twenty miles a day. He's convinced that there are aliens among us. I enjoy the brief conversations I have with him, everything is called into question. Most of the crazy people I've known are savants, one way or another. This blanket of snow is unwelcome. Heavy, wet, soggy shit; I swear I could just about kill myself. Glenn mentioned Harvey, thirty years ago he blew out his brains. At first I thought, yeah, but his situation was different, then I realized we were all the same. Harvey used to come over to the first print-shop, sit in the window sill and recite Lorca in Spanish. The music in the language was everything to him. Finished rereading Jim Harrison's non-fiction, which led to reading some of the people he talked about, which led to rereading the Nick Adams stories (in the handy 'all in one book' edition), and that pretty well used up the day. A nice homemade chorizo omelet. A walk over to the first morel spot. Nothing yet. Back in my chair at Black Dell, I read myself for an hour before I remembered I was supposed to be editing. So I go back over a section and cut a few words out, alter some punctuation. TR called and he agreed to come out and hook up the old Mac from the museum, so I can get to work on the three books that have been cut out of the Ridge Post, and print a bunch of stuff for Chautuaqua. A lot to do. Glad I have all my time for it. From this new vantage it doesn't look quite so impossible. Just needs the right equipage. And TR to stop by once in a while to clean up any muddles. I'm an absolute dunce when it comes to computers. I love them, because they allow me to edit as I write, and not have to retype everything ten times (I am a slow and deranged two-finger typist), but I don't know how to use them. I'm better with stinky cheese, velcro closures, frozen zippers, or any number of difficult trimming problems. Render everything down. What you're left with, is the thing its self. I'm sure there's a name for it.