Accepting Fate

Had to pay land taxes, so I'd gone into town earlier than usual, prepared to wait in line, but I was in and out in just a few minutes. Buy the Daily Times and a cup of coffee and go below the floodwall to read the ads for window AC units. Looks like I am going to have to drive to Lowe's, as they have just what I need, cheaper than anyone else; also I could buy some extra light-bulbs, for next winter, and a few of those small drill-bits that always break. From the remaindered bin, I bought four Angus patties, and some Mozzarella. I love these early tomatoes, with diced cheese, balsamic vinegar and a goodly twist of pepper. Spoffle is to make one's self busy over a trifle. Too hot to think. Even with an overhead fan and a small desk-top unit, sitting perfectly still, I sweat. I'll go out tomorrow and get the AC, but today I have to finish reading Pynchon's Bleeding Edge, which I didn't read when it came out a couple of years ago. But now, with Trump being nominated, paranoia seems in order. Bloody hot by mid-morning and Black Dell is bitching. Basho:

firefly viewing---
the boatman is drunk,
the boat unsteady

As Pynchon says, "There are always secular back-up stories." Trifle and folly are both diminished in the way they morph in definition. Something about the abject Christianity of the RNC is driving me crazy. I can't listen to the news so I read another old thriller, Erskine Childers' Riddle Of The Sands, 1903 (I thought it was 1908) and it's still a riveting read. Childers was dead by firing squad after the 1916 rebellion. The boletes are fruiting, with rain and hot days, and I harvest a mess, to make a mushroom gravy for one of the Angus Burgers. Excellent fare. Jude pointed out that 'mess' was also a call to dinner, the officer's mess, for instance, in addition to being the meal itself, a mess of greens, a mess of clams or oysters, enough for a meal. My solar shower got too warm, and I used it to wash some dishes, refilled it with room-temperature water and rinsed off after a walk. An Angus Burger, I suspect, is a Scottish yahoo from Worcestershire. I was laughing out loud when a phone interviewer ask me if I would vote for The Donald, no, I told her, I'd rather vote for Nixon's dog.