Saturday, July 12, 2014

BIRD SONGS AND MORNING GLORIES


Yes, not a good sign. 80 degrees already at 8:30 a.m. Cooder is flat on the bathroom floor near the cistern, also known as the toilet. I’m on the couch in the cold room, also known as the living room/bedroom here in Brooklyn. Normally, as normal is evolving, I sit at the dining room table and absorb some morning rays, but it is too hot and the dark relief beckons.

Later that same month.

It's really only been a week, but last week was kind of a wash. Besides adjusting to a new environment, it was too hot to do much but hang out in the cold room and wait for the scary sun to go down so that breathing could happen again.



Hmm ...

We are deep into July now and counting the days when the house will be gone. To that end, I am sitting in the backyard on a fresh summer morning. Emmylou is far across the yard, grazing, and watching bugs. The cats woke me up too early as they wanted some kitty crack, Whisker Lickin's treats. They must be bad for them as they are nearly frenzied in their consumption. Who cares about Greenies.

There are birds and concomitant songs about. Emmy makes that odd cat hunting purr/growl/hiss sound. She's under the Honda watching a couple, but she has no chance of capturing anything. The cats, Emmylou particularly, so enjoy it here, I thought we should take advantage while we could. 

The sky is a cloudless blue. 

As to me? Not feeling great this week, or at least the last couple of days. Perhaps the stress, the hot weather,  and the unsettled nature of my existence are adding to that. Fortunately, I am not terribly depressed, more frightened and resigned, so I am functional mostly. The gnawing snarling black hole of fear is right nearby, but I have been able to remain balanced. I haven't been walking and perhaps reinstitution of that practice would help.

Was down in Brooklyn for the monthly Kermit Place Readers group. We had a blast drinking wine and discussing Italo Calvino's The Baron in the Trees. We all drank too much and had a rather more raucous discussion than usual. Then again, our more recent reading of Proust led more to reflection than celebration. And it was fun to discover that EW, one of the readers, is as big a fan of Engrenages (Spirals) as am I. Charterhouse of Parma next.

I don't how I feel about life. Slightly more hopeful than the last month or two, or maybe I am just floating in denial. But for this morning, I just wanted to check in and then return to enjoying the birdsongs, the cool, the morning glories and the morning's glories.



Oops! Here's an addition, a piece of Jeff Nunokawa's daily posting that is right in line with my morning thoughts:


5302. Whose Words These Are, I Think I Know

July 12, 2014 at 9:36am
Whose woods these are I think I know--but I don't think it matters right now, since right now I think he's about as far away as your worst fears on your best days. You know those days: they always start the same. You wake up to your usual wondering about why you're worried and then you stop wondering: you just lose interest, and then, whatever it is that has you worried stops coming at you, like he's given up interest, too.

1 comment:

  1. Remember, it is the fate of the working classes to suffer so that the rich can be exalted by our political system. I hope that cheers you up. MW

    ReplyDelete