Mere Decoration

Got back up at one this morning, to do some writing, and the power went off. Put on my headlamp and rooted through the candles, lit an oil lamp for my desk, and a couple of candles at the kitchen island. Just enough light to see and pour a drink. Candles have become decorative objects, not designed to be burnt. Utility candles at the hardware store are, actually very good designed candles, the wick size perfect for the diameter. The power was out until five, and I read the entire time, and developed what I think of as the headlamp headache. Still, this book on dogs B lent is quite good. How Dogs Work. The candles at the island were terrible, the two I replaced them with were also terrible. Big Lots candles are mostly what I buy, because they always have a lot of them and they're cheap, but they're usually crappy. This is actually ok, just to have a light at the island, if I burn it in a saucer to catch the inevitable dribble. It was, again, completely overcast, and without power it was very dark and completely quiet. Fairly windy, with the rain, but the candle flames burned straight and true, yet another testament to the new floor insulation. I want to write a piece on silence; I'd probably title it On Silence because I'm so fucking literal in that regard. Being alone, and silence, have become very important to me. Barnhart emailed that he wants to come out because he has a cookbook from his mother (he reads her my paragraphs over the phone) and a salami he got at Trader whomever outside Cincy. We share a taste for exotics. Be great to see him as he is both extremely bright and quite funny, and I do love old-world salami. It coats the tongue like mutton fat, eat it with gherkins, anchovy stuffed olives, and a ripe cheese. I was thinking about the difference between Hoe-Cake and Corn-Pone. The Hoe-Cake is just cornmeal and boiling water cooked on both sides on a bayonet held over an open fire. I love origin myths. A flat rock is better. That whole bayonet thing is bullshit. A squashed canteen is better than a bayonet. I have a very good baking sheet made from a number ten can. A tinker, after all. Ear-marked as homeless, but that's mostly a product of dress, what you look like, what I am is even simpler than that.