May 4, 2014

The bitter anniversary.


Slept till it was light (pale, opaline) after a fantastic day. I went to the Toyota place to have my electronic key renewed (turns out I could have done it myself) and of necessity passed Jesse Israel’s on the way. Bought and planted a wisteria tree (the one I got for four times the price mailed to me being still a dead stick) and various rock garden and shade garden plants. Gave those to the ground, then went for a wonderful session at the studio. I was happy. A wonderful session at the studio is one of which one has very little memory afterwards, all systems running on automatic. Came home, drank wine in the sun of my backyard, sobered up and then went to the rug sale at Togar’s. I’m going to have to add another room before I buy any more Oriental carpets.

In the evening I did my reading for Wordfest. It was a triumph, I think, on every side. Saw people such as Jackie Shelton-Green whom I had not seen in, maybe, decades. Ethan came up from Charleston, not for me, exactly, but including me in his travel plans. He looks like a man now. The last time I saw him he looked like a boy. The work on all sides of me was excellent, and my work was excellent (I knew this as it came from my tongue) and for a while all ambitions and yearnings in that area were assuaged.

One thing I bought from Ebay came broken; another, a leather jacket, blasted me with complicated odors as I opened the box. It had belonged to a smoker, and the bass notes were cigarettes. Over this and to mask this he or she had applied perfume. The jacket spent the night on my porch airing out.