Odds and ends, odds and ends,I had hoped to finish the Winfield serial this past weekend. Unfortunately, Saturday got a little busy, and I was sick most of Sunday.
Lost time is not found again.
— Bob Dylan
I let myself sleep in on Saturday. All the way to 7:00 am! Did my regular b'fast and internet surfing thing until it was almost 9, then mowed the lawn. It was still nippy enough to require a long-sleeved shirt. Then, I had some shopping to do. Then, lunch with Pam.
It was a very pleasant lunch. I talked some about where I thought things went wrong with Elsie; Pam talked about minor frustrations with her beau. George is a fellow well-met, but he's got his problems like anybody else. Nobody gets a divorce after an extended marriage (with two kids) without some scars.
Went to the library from there. I had plans of writing a draft of the lastest serial installment there, but I needed to use the rest room. And the library's restroom was out of order. So, I picked up a couple of Twain books, and ran home.
Had a little home-improvement project to take care of — reattaching the toilet-paper holder. Then — well, gosh, I needed a break, and there was this Twain book and .... To sum up, no writing was accomplished.
I had a mild sinus headache when I left for church on Sunday. By Sunday School time, it was getting pretty bad. And by the time I drove home, it was unbearable. It's a miracle I got home ok. I took some drugs, got a cold compress, and crawled into bed. Stayed in bed (sleeping off & on) until 3.
Still in moderate pain. Couldn't even think about writing.
You may wonder what happened to the plan to take Dame Julian to the annual blessing of the animals. Friday evening, I learned the Cathedral would also have a crowd of Junior High school kids running around. This, on top of the concerns I expressed in a previous post, convinced me that it was best to spare DJ the stress.
Saturday night, Melia told me what the priest at her church does. "Rev Bev" blesses water in bowls, and lets the animals drink from them. Im sure the cats prefer this method to the spritzing method. In that spirit, I will bless the fountain that DJ likes to drink from. My blessing won’t be official, but we'll let that be our little secret.
It's been a while since I've written or posted a poem. When I released myself from the discipline of writing a poem a day, I meant to write at least a poem a week. Right now, the standard seems to be "A poem whenever the heck I happen to feel like it."
I’ve had this niggling idea of writing a poem on how disappointed I am in America right now. How the reality is so distant from the ideal. I’ve thought about writing it from the POV of a disappointed lover. I know Alan Ginsberg has already done something along these lines, but I think I could bring my own unique voice to the task.
Last night, I dreamed this poem. Phrases and rhythm were still dancing before me in the morning twilight. But once the alarm sounded, and the kitten was digging at the sheets, all the words were gone.
*Sigh*
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