Establishing Shot

Layers and layers of greenery. Morning sun, slanting through, leaves pools of light. Very calm. The soundtrack is awakening birds. The sun hits a low band of clouds that flame orange. With morning coffee and an early smoke, I start reading the 2009 book by Richard Powers, Generosity, and I know right away that I'm going to postpone making pate until tomorrow. Except for pee breaks and a couple of grazing meals, I read all day. About 4 o'clock my back is stiff and I walk out the driveway, come back, get an early drink, roll a smoke, and get right back to the reading. This is what I think of as "The Pynchon Response", when I just stop doing anything else I was doing and read a very good book that is new to me. There are a lot of books out there, and most of them are dross, proof-reading no longer exists, mistakes are rife; everything deteriorates. After a hard day of reading, the days are so long now, there's still time before dark, to clean up. I have an old kettle I cleaned the rust off of, and spray painted black enamel. If I fill it with rain water and set it out on the back stoop the water gets fairly warm. A packing skid is my shower stall, I use an old metal cup as my water delivery system. Get wet, scrub, rinse. I can do this with a gallon of water. It doesn't have the grace or eloquence of showering, then soaking in a hot-tub, smoking a cigar, and drinking a Frank Family Cab '93, but it's cheap, and gets the job done. Later, cleansed of my sins, I feel lighter in my frame, and finally drift off. I can't believe I bought into the whole shoddy mess; but, of course, you have to look at the context. Tom's old mule, Frank, knew gee from haw, and it was a treat to plow with him, because he knew every turning. There's a lesson there. Several, actually. The whole issue of control.