May 6, 2008

D T, A K, M A, D K all say they will be with me in New York. This is excellent, if bewildering, news. I am not used to not being on my own wild lone upon Manhattan. This will be far sweeter.

Chat with M at the studio. He wanted to show me the new blacksmithing machine he made, a colossus whose use seems to be to bang things into different shapes. Today he was banging cylinders into flattened cylinders. To do this you have to heat them till they’re red hot. He almost vaporized me, as I was standing right at the point where the flames shoot out of the oven where he heats them. Blacksmithing is way too scary a job for me. He talked until I excused myself away about how the women who now run the Fiver District Arts organization talk too much. I like him. He’s tall and skinny and smelly and not at all afraid of the smashing and burning things that would have me jumping incessantly. I was filled with envy when he told me how much he makes banging red hot metal in his room that used to be a meat locker. His wife makes tiny things, like baby shoes, and his descriptions of the tiny objects was loving and amazed as only those of a pounder-of-red-hot-iron could be.

Iris speckled white and purple. The blue geraniums.