May 1, 2008

The sudden release of duties at the end of a semester should foster a release of creative energies as well, and I guess it has, though it has been a splash rather than a stream, so scattered and unfocused that I have not set myself down to any one project, no matter how much I want to. I am a child in a room full of toys. David and Jonathan is the most focused and specific at this point, so perhaps I should turn my energies there. The garden is almost too alluring, for the work done shows at the end of the day, and, no matter how minute, is done.

Weeding around the golden tree peony, I almost swoon from the perfume, which may be my favorite in the world. Feminine, oddly cool, sharp and sweet at once.

A bottle of liqueur dives off the top of the refrigerator and smashes the florescent desk lamp that I found in my closet in the house on Harvard Place in Syracuse. I thought as I gathered the pieces for the trash that it had been with me thirty three years. I tend to animate all objects; I hope they will do the same for me one day.